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“No. You and I are meant to be together,” I cry.

He turns to look at me, hope swirling through his eyes. He opens his arms, waiting for me to jump into them and claim him as mine again.

I run toward him, my arms open wide. I wrap my arms around
his neck and press my lips into his, pushing hard. Harder. And harder.
Walking him backwards as he loses himself within our kiss. I pull
away
and look him in the eyes once more. “Reaper, I—I—“ I shove him
once. I shove him less than three inches, and I watch as he topples off the
ledge, screaming like a girl. “I never fucking loved you, asshole!” I
shout.

The moment gets to me. The release of adrenaline in my body
makes me weak and causes my knees to give out. I fall backwards and hit my head against a sharp corner of a rock, forcing more swirls and swishes to float in front of my eyes. The memory of his body
falling off
the cliff disappears, and I feel like I hear faint screams in the
distance.
But I’m sure the sounds are from within my head. The screams
soften
almost completely . . . and then the noise stops. I hear nothing—
nothing
but silence among the grasshoppers singing against the soothing
winds whisking through the greens.

He’s gone.

I killed Reaper.

CALI

I’M SCARED
to close my eyes. I’m scared of becoming unconscious here in the dark. The pain in my head is radiating through my entire
body, and I’m stiff, lying here gazing up into the millions of stars.
Some twinkle, saying hello. Others just stare with curiosity. I wish I could send them an S.O.S, but no one would respond.

The place between heaven and earth is a one-way mirror that separates those who’ve moved on from those who are still on earth.
They
can peek in on us; see how we’re doing, and rest knowing we’re
okay. But those of us down here, who are wondering the same about them, have to live with the unknown.

Footsteps sound in the distance, but I don’t care. I have no desire
to know what’s next. I fulfilled my promise to Krissy. There’s
nothing left on my to-do list.

A cold sweat and darkness washes over me. I see Tango’s smile. I think about how we were here to save him, and now I’m the one
who needs to be saved. God, I hope he’s okay.

***

As the footsteps quicken into a run from whoever is nearing me, I notice the subtle glow from the sun sneaking up over the horizon,
telling me I
made it through the night. My fingers curl into each other by my
side. I
have no energy to fight. If it’s Jorge, he can just push me over the
edge, and I’ll follow the path Reaper took.

The noises are muffled again, but the ground vibrates next to me, and a hand swoops under my head as I hear the word, “Shit,”
yelled
loudly. “Cali?” I think I hear. An arm curls under my back and
another
around my legs. Why is my head still spinning? Why can’t I see
who’s holding me?”

I feel something pressed against the back of my head as I’m set down on a spongy surface. My hands rest by my sides and the
sensation of
grass tickles my palms. Tango appears in my sight, clambering on top of me. His lips are moving, but I can’t make out what he’s
saying. It’s the
ringing noise in my ears that is blocking out all softer tones. I feel his lips on my forehead. My cheek. My chin. My lips. The sensation lingers there.

Tango slides behind me and carefully lifts my head to rest on his
lap. He strokes his fingers through my hair and into my scalp. The
sensation makes me weak and I succumb to more sleep.

TANGO

I have to assume she’s the reason he isn’t here anymore. He
wouldn’t have left her. He would have either finished her off or taken her with him. There’s no blood, just a slight bump on her head. I’m sure she
has a concussion, and I’m worried since she’s asleep. But she’s
breathing
and her heart is beating normally. I continue to comb my fingers
through
her hair—I love wrapping the strands around my fingertips and watching them slightly bounce away when I let go. She’s so
beautiful, and I’ve come to love staring at her like this, when she’s unaware of
my lingering gaze. I press my lips against her forehead, hoping it will pull her from her sleep. I need her to wake up. My worry for her
injury
is growing by the second, and it’s only been twenty minutes since
she fell back asleep. But I know how important it is for people with head injuries to stay awake.

I feather my fingertips over her cheek, trying to rouse her again. Her body responds to my touch this time. She flinches a bit, and I’m relieved she’s at least reacting to me.

“Cali,” I whisper softly into her ear. “You okay, baby?” Baby? Did I just call her baby? That’s a new one for me, but it sort of feels
natural. This girl has seriously done me in, and it’s hardly been a week. She’s made me feel things I’ve never felt for another woman. She’s made me care in a way that I didn’t think I had the ability to do anymore. Maybe that’s what an undesired four-year abstinence does to a man.
Knowing she could be the beginning to my supposed end is the
answer to my last dying wish.

CALI

The hot sun nips at my skin as my tongue struggles to find moisture
on the roof of my mouth. My eyelids feel heavy, but I force them
open.
Two large bright green eyes are looking back at me. “Cali?” The
sound
of his voice is crisp, and I vaguely remember I could only hear a
ringing sound when I closed my eyes.

I try to respond, but my mouth is too dry. An achy noise
grumbles in my throat to let him know I need water, and he gently places the
mouthpiece to his water-pouch between my lips. My lips are cracked, and when I move them, they crack more. I feel warm air
swish across
the separated cuts on each lip. My tongue works hard to suck the
water from the straw, but with the first drop, my mouth craves more and sucks harder. A steady stream of liquid cools my throat and fills my stomach. The satisfaction is almost instant.

“I’m going to try and lift you up and sit you against the tree.”
His hand presses beneath my shoulder blades and his other hand
lifts under my arm. Slowly, he eases me up.

My head still feels like it’s spinning a bit, but steadies after a moment. I think I’m okay. My lungs constrict when a flash of what
happened last night trips my memory. I clutch my hand over my heart and twist the thin fabric of my shirt into a ball. “He’s dead,” I croak out.

“Who?” His hands melt into my shoulders as he lowers his face to my level.

“Reaper.”

“You killed him?” Unease and wonder reels through his voice.

“Yes.” I did kill him. I forced my way into his head then . . . “I pushed him.” I point to the cliff.

Tango stands up from my side and approaches the ledge where he found me. He leans over, looking for the evidence, but I’m not sure what he’ll find, and it doesn’t matter. After a second, I notice
whatever
he sees causes him to recoil. “I’m going to recommend you don’t
look
over this ledge. I’ve seen some shit in my day, and that’s bad.” He sits back down by my side and places his hand on the small of my
back. “What happened before you pushed him?”

“I had gotten up to go to the bathroom last night. I only went behind the nearest tree. He captured me there and dragged me
somewhere else that I don’t remember. He sent someone after you: Jorge, I think his name was. He said he was going to kill you. But I knew—“

“I’d win,” he interrupts me with a wry grin.

“Yes.”

“I did,” he says softly, tracing the pad of his thumb along my cheek, brushing off specks of dirt. “Then what?”

“I got in his head—like my dad always did to people. At one point, he became so angry he slammed my head into the ground, but I held onto my strength and kept feeding him what his mind wanted to hear.” Tango intertwines his fingers with mine and kisses me on
the forehead.
“He’s gone now. The promise I made to Krissy helped me to hang
on.”

***

It took a few hours for me to regain my bearings and for the dizziness to subside, but clarity is catching up to me. Now I just
want to find Dad
and help Tango. I push forward, throwing my pack over my
shoulders
and hold my stride tightly behind Tango. He spent some time
studying
the map against the coordinates this morning and said we’re still hours away. I can’t help but to think this could all be for nothing, and I’m sure Tango has already considered this as well. He talks
about dying like it could happen tomorrow and doesn’t mention a word of hope that all of this effort is for a purpose.

 “Hold up,” Tango stops short in his tracks. He pulls his phone out and turns on the GPS, pointing the device in each direction. “Shit.”

“That sounded like a loaded—“ I burst out laughing at my pun, realizing I’m likely getting dehydrated again. Jokes aren’t my thing, but I guess they are when I’m losing my mind.

Tango stifles his laugh and quickly straightens his jaw. “Cali. Water. Now.” He drops his phone back into his pocket. “We have to
cross over that bridge.” He points off to the end of an upcoming ledge.

“What bridge?”

He tugs on my wrist and pulls me closer to where he was
pointing.
The bridge is made of rope and loose planks of wood—definitely untrustworthy and not so secure. The rope is pale and brittle, and
there
are missing boards every few steps. I’ve already proven to be the weak link here, so I have to suck it up. I straighten my pack, pull
back my shoulder blades and walk forward.

“Hold it!” he shouts. “I understand you want to take the lead, but are you going to check that thing out first?”

“I think I’ll know within the first step,” I say, giving him a
duh
look.

He holds up his hands in defense. “Fine, be my guest.”

I approach the start of the bridge, which is a foot below the ledge. I curl my fists tightly around the rope and lower my foot
down, slowly
applying pressure to check for sturdiness. My foot wobbles as if I
were standing on a plastic swing.
This should be fun
.

I lower my other foot down and bare most of my weight throughout
my hands. My knuckles are becoming pale, and the bones beneath
my skin’s surface are becoming more apparent. I glide my right
hand
along the rope, careful not to shift my weight. The sprigs of the rope scrape against my palm like fine needles and the sensation mixes with my sweat, making my skin itchy. I step over to the next board,
which is
a bit firmer. I twist my head to look back at Tango, putting on my bravest face. “Come on in, the water’s fine,” I say, grinning like an idiot.

“God, you really need more water,” he shouts over.

With bravery acting as a sidekick, I move a little quicker over to
the next board, which also feels firm. The next three boards are the same, and my confidence is at a high peak.
This isn’t so bad.
With my foot dangling over the next pane, I feel a shift below me. The board
slides backwards about an inch, but the inch feels like a mile as I’m
hanging hundreds of feet over boulders protruding from a rapidly moving river. I continue forward, anxious to move from the wobbly plank. I make it over the remaining distance and hop over the last missing plank. My heart is hammering against my chest as I look
back to see what I just crossed over.

Tango hasn’t even left the ledge yet, which is best. I’m not sure this
bridge could have held two people at once. He moves across,
seamlessly, unafraid and unaffected. Everything he does makes me
feel like I could
never live up to his example. I’ve always been the most fearless person I’ve known until I met him. Compared to him, I look like a
coward.

His chest is still rising and falling at an even pace, not even a bead of sweat more than when he left. He brushes the dirt from his hands and readjusts his pack. “Ready, princess?” His smirk tells me
he knows what I’m thinking. He knows he’s better than I am. He knows he makes me weak.

Bastard.

It’s been two hours of an uphill trek, and my knees are starting to wobble. The sun is just as fierce and unforgiving as it’s been and my skin is beginning to feel like leather on top of the relentless ache in my shoulder. “Hang on,” I shout ahead.

I lower my pack and pull out the sunscreen and my bottle of painkillers—good thing I just refilled. I pop the pills into my mouth and then slather on the white cream, leaving it thick over the spots
that burn the easiest. “How are you not getting burnt?” I ask him.

He shrugs while taking a closer look at his exposed arms. “I think my skin has seen its day in the sun—Iraq and Afghanistan’s rays aren’t too forgiving and we ran out of sunscreen early on.” He reaches his
hand out for the bottle, probably just to appease me. “It wasn’t pretty for the first couple of weeks. A couple of the guys needed a medevac due to third-degree burns.” He slathers a bit on his arms and his shoulders, then tosses the bottle back at me.
Men
. “Your shoulder bothering you?”