Page 36 of Cruel Love

Boxcar bites his cheek. “What?”

“You say you met Myra in a bar, and then…” I raise my palms upward. “You just woke up in your hotel room?”

He inhales. “Cal…”

“Alone?”

“This stays between us.”

I pause, hearing his low, serious tone. “Okay,” I say.

He runs his fingers through his thick hair, messing up the sides before running them through again. “Myra slipped me something, but I can’t say for sure what it was. I blacked out… and when I woke up, I was alone but there was plenty of evidence to suggest that I wasn’t always.” He looks at me. “What happened to me was wrong, I had no control over it, and it sure as hell wasn’t consensual.”

My stomach churns. “Box…”

“I’m over it,” he says, waving a hand. “I came home, got tested, and moved on. I’d like to keep doing that if you don’t mind.”

He turns away to stuff the last shirt into his pack.

My eyes water behind my lashes but a few shaking breaths hold them steady.

I step forward slowly and wrap my arms around him.

Boxcar tenses up for a second. “Caleb, I’m okay,” he says. “Really.”

“Well, I’m not,” I say.

He pulls me closer and kisses my forehead. “Don’t stress out about it. Please. You’ve got enough to worry about.”

“I’m gonna kill that bitch.”

He laughs softly. “Sounds like you’ll have to get in line behind the Harts for that one.”

I look at him and he flashes that smile at me. The same smile that pulled me in out in Afghanistan. He’s still him after everything that’s happened. Still my Boxcar.

I think back to the desert where this began. Boxcar might still have that smirk, but he also has that curiosity in his eyes. Marilyn Black. Snake Eyes. His obsession took over before and I can already see it taking hold of him again.

Can’t really fault him, though. I’m curious, too.

“I thought Marilyn Black didn’t have a daughter,” I say.

“On paper, she doesn’t,” he says. “She was born after Marilyn allegedly died, so they probably figured a birth certificate was unnecessary. Myra doesn’t exist.”

“Which makes her the perfect face for an organization that doesn’t exist, too.” I try and shake the chills off. “I really don’t like the idea of you going without me.”

“I know,” he says. “I don’t like that it took a stern talking-to from Fox to change your mind about it.” He stands a little taller. “That’s something we’re gonna work on when I get back. I don’t want my wife ignoring me anymore.”

“I didn’t ignore you, I…” I bite down. “I don’t like feeling worthless. I don’t like standing in the back. Front row center. That’s who I am. You know that.”

“You think being pregnant makes you worthless?”

“I didn’t say that.” I look down. “Sure as hell feels like it, though.”

“You listen to me, Caleb Fawn.” He says it so sharply, I nearly flinch. “I would have voted to keep you here whether you were pregnant or not. My instinct is, and always will be, to protect you. You’re not worthless. You’re priceless.”

I laugh as a lump grows in my throat. “You’re getting pretty good at saying the right thing.”

“Everyone’s got something they’re good at. Happy to say my thing is you.” His eyes wander downward. “And right now, I’m not just protecting you. I’m protecting our baby. I don’t care how much it resembles a tadpole.”

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