Page 38 of Broken Love

“Get up,” I say, sliding off him and planting my feet on the floor.

“Wait—” Boxcar grabs my arm, wrapping his fingers tight around my elbow. “Don’t do that thing.”

“What thing?”

“You know damn well what thing.” He releases my arm and sits back. “That sudden attack of conscience you get even after you’ve done nothing wrong.”

I snap my lips shut. His understanding of my character is just as annoying now as it was back then. Giving in to Boxcar has always filled me with a keen sense of guilt. He’s absolutely right. It has no real reason for existence other than it just does.

“Caleb, lie down with me.”

I sit still, unable to move, unable to take what I really want. “Boxcar—”

“Lie down with me.”

I close my eyes as his voice twitches my senses again. It’s firm and demanding. It’s a side of him that rarely shines out, but it amuses me every time it does. I look back at him and his playful eyes overwhelm me with calm.

Finally, I give in and lean beside him. He guides me closer and rests my head against his chest. I feel his muscles flex beneath me. He’s stronger than he used to be. He’s obviously been working out since the last time I saw him, and I’ll admit — he looks good.

Boxcar draws a line across my head, pushing stray hairs away from my eyes and tucking them back behind my ear. “Talk to me, Caleb,” he says. “What’s going on in there?”

I breathe deep, relishing in his scent as it travels through my nose. “I don’t know,” I whisper.

He keeps his hands on me, his fingers gently gliding along my shoulders to stop me from running again.

It feels like I’ve always been running. Running from him, running from life, running from mistakes and circumstances outside of my control.

Running away from that bullet.

Chapter 11

Boxcar

“I don’t deserve this.”

I tighten my arms around her, feeling her soft skin glide along my fingertips. I fill my lungs with her scent because this just might be the last chance I’ll ever get to.

One minute.

We couldn’t go one minute post-coitus without her flight instincts kicking in.

“Don’t deserve what?” I ask her.

She raises her head off my chest. “I don’t… you don’t deserve this. You deserve better.”

I grin. “Shut the hell up, Caleb.”

“I’m serious, Box.”

“And so I am.” I shake my head, pushing this crap away. “This idea you have in your head — this belief that you being human is somehow selfish — is bat-shit insane.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is. Caleb, you’ve been a civilian for almost two years. The war is over for you. You’re home. You can be happy. You can start a new life. You can have sex and experience normal things without feeling like shit. I know I have.”

She pushes off the mattress, her face twisting into a foul expression. “Oh, really?”

“Yes.”

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