Head Above Water

by Amber Garza

“From this earth, yes.”

  Irrational anger bubbles inside of me. “I can’t talk about this. It’s fine for you to believe what you want, but I will not let you give me some false hope that I’ll see Heather again.”

  “Hey.” His hand lands on my thigh. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I was trying to do.”

  I nod, forcing the emotion back down.

  “I was trying to explain to you what I believe, that’s all.”

  “Yeah, I get it. I didn’t mean to get all weird.” A bitter laugh escapes through my lips. “You’re probably getting a little tired of my outbursts, huh?”

  He shrugs. “Actually I think it’s pretty cute. I told you I like a little feistiness.” Propping his feet up on the coffee table, he leans back and takes a sip of his coffee. “Coffee’s good.” His head rolls to the side and his gaze slides to me. “Company’s better.”

  I lean back too, feeling the earlier tension dissipating. “I agree.”

  “Harper?” Priscilla enters the room. “I didn’t know you were here.” She glances at Tag in a funny way. “Are you not working today?”

  “No, Mom. I have a few days off because of the head.” He points to the fresh bandage. I can tell that he put on a new one this morning. Not a speck of blood on it at all.

  “Ah.” Her gaze flickers back to me. “Are you going to be here awhile?”

  “Until you two kick me out,” I say.

  Priscilla smiles. “Great. I’ll go get dressed and make you two some lunch.” She whirls around and hurries back to her room, her pajamas rustling with each step.

  Tag watches her back with an awed look on his face. “How did you do that? I’ve been trying to get her to clean up and make a meal for months. In one day you’ve managed to revive her.” He moves even closer to me, and brings up his hand to stroke my cheek. His face is so close I can feel his breath on my face. “You are my new hero.”

  I chuckle. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.” His gaze is so intense, I lose my ability to breathe. I stay perfectly still thinking he might kiss me again. Remembering how amazing it was last time causes my stomach to flip. But then his expression turns serious, and he moves back. My heart sinks, and I have the sickening feeling like maybe things will never be the same between us. Maybe I messed up too bad when I broke things off the first time. Will he ever kiss me again? God, I hope so.

  “Hey, Harper?” Tag’s voice brings me out of my internal pity-party. “Do you think you can help me change my bandage?”

  “Didn’t you already change it?” I ask.

  “Yeah, but I’m not sure I did it right. Besides, it’s sort of itchy.”

  “Okay.” I stand up. “Where are the clean ones?”

  “In the bathroom, down the hall.” He points.

  When I walk past him, I catch the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. What is he up to? Heart pounding, I head down the hallway. The bandages and pain pills from the doctor are sitting on top of the tile counter next to a stick of deodorant. The scent that wafts from it reminds me of Tag, causing a funny feeling to land in the pit of my stomach. Man, I have it bad. I look in the cabinet under the sink and find a clean washcloth. After getting it wet, I grab a bandage and return to the couch.

  Tag is sitting with his head propped up on the couch cushions, his bare feet on the ground and his hands in his lap. I sit next to him and then tilt forward to touch the bandage on his head. As my hair falls over my shoulder it sways in his face.

  “Sorry,” I mumble, scooping it up in my hands and flinging it over my shoulder.

  “It didn’t bother me.” Tag has a lazy smile on his face.

  Taking a deep breath, I reach for the bandage again. As I carefully peel it off I’m acutely aware of the fact that he’s still shirtless and I’m hovering over him. His breath fans over my arm as I take the bandage off. The cut doesn’t look too bad. Stitches line it, and there is some dried blood so I press the washcloth to it.

  “Does that hurt?” I ask, trying to ignore the insistent pounding of my heart.

  “Not at all.” He peers up at me, his lips curling up at the edges.

  I swipe the bandage over his cut until it looks clean. Then I pick up the new bandage. When I reach up again, my arm bumps Tag’s lips. My insides flip. Pretending I don’t notice, I continue working on putting the new bandage on. When I’m finished, my fingers catch in Tag’s blond hair.

  “Sorry,” I say again, feeling flustered.

  “Don’t be.” Tag’s hand circles my wrist, and I stiffen. With his other hand he runs the pads of his fingertips across my lip, tracing every line. I suck in a breath and sink down on the couch until our faces our parallel. Tag releases my wrist and then he kisses me softly. Once. Twice. Sweet little pecks. His hands sweep up into my hair, gathering it in his hands. It’s not rough, but it’s not gentle either. Chills skate down my spine as his lips explore mine with an intense hunger and his tongue dances with mine. I reach for him, my hands skimming over his bare flesh. I trace the tattoo on his upper chest and then let my hands linger over his taut chest muscles and hard abs. The muscles flex beneath my palm as his fingers weave through my hair. When our lips disconnect, he drops his forehead to mine. “I think I’ll keep you around.”

  “I think I like the sound of that.”

  Tag releases my hair. “Seriously though. You’re amazing. Not only with me, but with my mom too. You have no idea how crazy it is to see my mom actually opening up to someone. You have a gift.”

  I smile at his words, wanting to believe them so badly. If it’s even a little bit possible for me to help others because of the grief I’ve endured, it would make me so happy. “How long has she been like this?”

  “Since Dad passed away, so three years now.”

  “She’s been like this the whole time? That must be so hard for you.” I thread my fingers through Tag’s, savoring the feel of his fingers against mine. “How did he die?”

  Tag is silent for a minute, and I can feel his hesitation like a physical thing. I know exactly what he’s feeling because it happens to me every time someone asks me about Heather. “It’s okay. You don’t have to share if you don’t want to. I know how hard it is.”

  “I know you do.” His eyes lock with mine and the connection between us is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. “That’s why I want to share this with you because you get it in a way no one else does.”

  His thumb circles the inside of my palm, causing a shiver to pulse through my body. I smile, encouraging him to continue.

  12

  TAG

  “CANCER. HE WAS sick for a long time.”

  Harper clutches tightly to my hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  A golden curl slips over Harper’s face, blocking her eye. She swipes it away with her hand, her blue eyes sparkling in the dim lighting. She looks like an angel sitting here next to me with her pale skin and light hair. All she’s missing is the halo. I don’t normally connect with girls like this. Hell, ever since Ginny I haven’t connected with anyone like this.

  Mom’s door opens behind me. I crane my neck to see her. She’s walking down the hallway wearing jeans and a shirt, her wet hair pulled back at the nape of her neck. When she reaches the family room her head bobs up and she smiles. My heart leaps as I catch a glimpse of the woman she used to be.

  “You two okay?” She asks, her gaze darting between the two of us.

  Harper releases my hand looking a little flustered.

  “Yeah, we’re fine, Mom.”

  “Okay. Well, I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” As she whisks past, the scent of soap and shampoo passes through the air.

  I glance sheepishly at Harper. “She seems to have forgotten that I’m an adult today.”

  Harper shrugs. “Like you said, at least she’s up and around. And she actually seems kind of happy.”

  I love that Harper seems genuinely interested in my mom’s well-being. It’s so odd to me that I’ve only known her a short time. She fits seaml
essly into my life, as if she was always meant to be here.

  Leaning forward, I touch her arm. My fingertips dance over her soft skin. Little goosebumps rise on her flesh, and satisfaction fills me at her reaction. “What do you say, when I’m better we go for another hike? Or maybe even a bike ride?”

  “I’d love that.” She smiles.

  Damn, her smiles do me in. She bends forward, her hair falling over her shoulder, and picks up her coffee off the table. After taking a sip, she sets it back down. A little dribble of liquid remains on her mouth. Without thinking, I trail my fingertips over her lips, wiping it off. It’s like she’s a freaking magnet. I can’t help it. I have to touch her.

  “Thanks,” she murmurs.

  Reluctantly I draw my hand back even though all I want to do is touch her all day long. I want to run my fingers over every inch of her skin, memorizing every nuance and curve. A pot bangs in the kitchen reminding me of Mom’s presence. I shake away the inappropriate thoughts.

  “Hey, do you think later you could take me to pick up my car and stuff at work?” I ask Harper.

  “Sure, but are you okay to drive?”

  I shrug. “I think so. They said I didn’t have a concussion.”

  “Yeah, no problem.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and then crosses one slender, pale leg over the other. I stare at them, all shapely and perfect as they peek out from under her little sundress. It’s clear to me now that she’s trying to kill me with those short dresses and long legs. I was kind of kidding about it yesterday, but now I’m sure of it. Her gaze darts around the family room. I can see her eyes lingering on the photos on the wall and the ones that line the fireplace.

  “Are you an only child, Tag?” she asks, still looking at the pictures.

  “Yeah. Once my parents had me they figured why mess with perfection?” I throw her a wink so she’ll know I’m joking.

  “You really are insufferable. You know that?”

  “I’ve always been told that women find me endearing.”

  “I’m sorry that you’ve been lied to all these years,” she deadpans.

  I grab her around the waist, tickling her middle with my fingers. “C’mon, admit you. You find me so endearing you can’t stand it.”

  “I will not admit it.” She grits her teeth to keep from laughing. “I find you disgusting.”

  “Disgusting? Really?” I push her further down on the couch, straddling her body. She writhes under me, and even though this is supposed to be a friendly game I’m starting to get a little turned on. “I can show you disgusting if you’d like.” Raising my arm I pretend that I’m going to lower my armpit onto her face.

  She rolls her head to the side burying her face in the cushions of the couch. “You wouldn’t dare.” Her voice is so muffled I can barely make out the words.

  “Wouldn’t I?” I joke.

  She pries her face out of the cushions and flashes me a devilish grin. I freeze. What is she up to? With a smug look on her face she brings her arms up, running her palms up the length of my torso and chest. I loosen my hold on her a little as her touch sends tiny tremors down my spine. This allows her to sit up a little. She brings her face up toward my neck, titling it until her lips almost skim my flesh. Close. So close I can feel her breath, hot against my skin. This time my whole body shivers.

  “Guys are so easy.” She laughs, and a puff of air meets my skin. Since she has me so relaxed, she barely has to shove me before I fall back down on the couch, releasing my hold on her.

  “You’re good,” I say.

  Throwing her head back she lets out another laugh. Her hair whips behind her, exposing her neck. An evil thought enters my mind. Two can play at this game. Before she can put her head back down, I nip at her chin with my lips. She lets out a startled gasp as my hand cups around the swell of her throat. I move slowly until my lips are level with her ear. “Gotcha.”

  She shoves me back with her palms. “Like I said, you are totally disgusting.”

  “Oh, yeah. That’s the face of someone who’s disgusted by me, I can tell,” I tease her.

  “You two ready for lunch?” Mom appears behind the couch, and I wonder how much she witnessed.

  I glance over at Harper and she nods. “Yeah, Mom. I guess we’re ready.”

  As I lead Harper into the kitchen, I think about how natural this all feels. With Harper here I feel complete, like she’s the missing piece I’ve been searching for all my life. Frankly it excites me and scares the shit out of me at the same time. On the one hand I can’t wait to see where this relationship goes. On the other, I’m terrified of losing her. I know that nothing lasts forever, but at this moment I sure wish there was a way it could.

  13

  HARPER

  SHE’S STANDING IN the doorway to Heather’s room, her back to me. Even so, I know what she’s feeling. I can see it in the slope of her shoulders, in the trembling of her hands as they dangle by her sides. If she senses my presence she doesn’t acknowledge it. She remains perfectly still like an inanimate object. I could walk on by, ignore her. Honestly it would be easier that way. Then I wouldn’t have to see what’s inside. I wouldn’t have to face the emptiness. And I wouldn’t have to be reminded that the wrong sister died once again.

  I almost succumb to the temptation, but something deep inside won’t let me. It’s that compassionate side of me that always seems to win out. Sometimes I wonder if I was always destined to be the more compassionate sister. Even though Heather only lived to be six, she was definitely the more selfish of the two of us. It was always Heather who upset our parents or pushed the limits. Even between the two of us, I was the one who gave in when she wouldn’t.

  I’ve never really known other twins, but when I was younger I read all the Sweet Valley Twin books. And I used to wonder if that was how Heather and I would’ve been. Would we have been polar opposites or very similar? Would we have dressed alike or had our own style? I guess I’ll never know what we would’ve been.

  Silently, I stand next to Mom, fitting perfectly against her hip. When I was a child, I would curl up against her hip on the couch and she would say it was my special spot; that I fit like a puzzle piece. It’s comforting to know that I still do. A tiny gasp escapes my lips as I take in the empty room. I’ve never seen it like this before. Ever. The walls are devoid of the jungle pictures that used to cover them. There are no more stuffed animals, pink, frilly daybed or ornate white dresser. The books we used to read are gone.

  “Wow,” I breathe. “You did it.”

  Mom nods beside me. Her eyes are wet and a tear slips down her cheek. She wipes it with the back of her hand, then swipes it across the thigh of her yoga pants. I drape my arm over her shoulders. When Heather first passed, it was hard to imagine that anyone missed her as much as me. She was my other half, after all. Life as I knew it disappeared. Gone so quickly I couldn’t even gear up for it. I was suddenly so alone. My playmate and best friend had been cruelly taken from my life. Gone were the late nights spent whispering or the days spent running around outside playing hide and seek or tag. It was only me.

  But now I know that Mom and Dad suffered as much, if not more. They lost their daughter that day. They lost a child they had love and cared for. Mom lost a baby she’d carried in her womb and delivered into the world. Heather’s death took something precious from all of us.

  “It was time,” Mom says, but there is a trace of regret in her voice.

  I squeeze her shoulders. “It was time. You’re right.”

  “Then why does it feel so awful?” Her shoulders shake a little and she sniffs.

  “It’s hard to say goodbye.”

  Mom nods. “The first year was so hard, but I kept thinking it would get easier with time. But it hasn’t. I still miss her every day.”

  “Me too.” Our heads meet.

  “But I need to let her go. I’ve been holding too tightly to her, trying to keep her memory alive.” Mom stamps a kiss on my forehead. “I’m sorry for that
, Harper.”

  I peer up at her, confused. “For what, Mom?”

  “I know that at times I’ve been preoccupied with Heather’s death. And because of it I haven’t always helped you get past your grief the way I should have.”

  “No. Don’t say that. I’m fine.” I shake my head, not wanting to have this conversation right now.

  Mom sighs. “I know you are. But I also know that fear drives a lot of what you do and that makes me sad.”

  Her words slam into me, and I move back a little. “What are you talking about?”

  “You don’t let anyone in.”

  “Yes, I do. What about Kate?”

  “Kate’s it though. You’ve never had a serious relationship, and even Kate you keep somewhat at an arm’s distance. And what about the fact that you still don’t know how to swim? You’re a grown woman, Harper.”

  My body trembles. “I do not keep people at an arm’s distance. And I am sorta, kinda in a relationship.” I’m really not sure what Tag and I are or if it would qualify it as a relationship. However, I know I like him and it would be nice if I could call him my boyfriend. The thought of that makes my heart flutter. My only other boyfriend was Liam in high school, and he was a jerk. Nothing at all like Tag.

  “You are?” Mom leans her back against Heather’s doorframe.

  “Yes. I’ve been seeing Tag again.”

  Her face lights up. “Great.”

  “Yeah. And he understands why I don’t want to swim.” I cross my arms over my chest. “It’s not that big of a deal. I’m sure there are other women who don’t swim. It’s not like something everyone has to know how to do.”

  Mom pushes off the wall and walks to me. “I know, honey. I want you to experience everything you can in life. I don’t want fear to keep you from doing that.”

  Biting my lip, I look at my feet. “Don’t worry about me, Mom. I’m fine. I promise.”

  “Okay.” She places a hand on my shoulder. Then she moves back to Heather’s room. In one swift movement she flicks the light off and closes the door. I flinch as it slams closed, and I feel like a chapter ended in my life. “Oh, I found some pictures when I was cleaning Heather’s room. They’re of the two of you so I put then on your dresser.” With one last touch on my shoulder, Mom glides down the stairs.