Page 10 of Inseverable (Carolina Beach)

Considering I asked for the truth, I’m no longer sure I want to hear it. “Yeah.”

“I don’t know,” she says, taking a moment to mull through her thoughts. “A man like that is hard from life, and probably more, Trin.”

“I figured as much,” I confess. “That doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve some good and maybe a little happiness in his life.”

“Maybe,” she says. “But can I ask you something? Why him?” She holds up her hand when I shoot her a look. “I get that he’s hot, Trin. Hell, the man is sex, dipped in honey, with a cherry on top of his penis for the lickin’. But he’s no boy?not like the ones we know who are just now barely men. He’s different, steely, and from what I can tell, someone who’s innocence was lost a long time ago.”

There’s a whole lot of truth in what Becca says. The young men who generally pique my interest are like Hunter: more Abercrombie and Fitch, and usually on the smaller, leaner side. Callahan is jeans, work boots, and I have to crane my neck to meet his face.

“For someone who was all excited, that I was all excited, you don’t sound very excited anymore,” I remind her.

“That’s before I knew you wanted more than something to ride.”

Yeah. I think she’s right about that.

She purses her lips. “If you’re looking for something more, Trin, I’m not sure this guy is a good place to start.”

I adjust my head against the pillow, more to give me a moment than something I really need to do. “So is that a no?” I ask.

“It’s abe careful,” she answers me truthfully. “You’re a good girl?an angel always willing to sweep in and save people. But, Trin, some people don’t want to be saved.”

Chapter Four

Callahan

I throw open the back door, grumbling from exhaustion and step onto the deck in my bare feet. As I lean in to stretch against the rail, a breeze sweeps in through the break in the trees. For a moment I still, expecting the grime to once more coat my face with its filth, and the smell of sweat and death to fill my nose.

Instead, only salty air strokes my beard in a gentle caress. I release a breath, remaining tense and unable to shake the memories that haunt my dreams every night. The squats, the presses, and the pull-ups I do during my grueling daily workouts only temporarily distract me. I need to run along the beach until my thighs burn, my muscles ache, and my brain forgets—everything. Feelings are bullshit. It’s numbness I seek. That, and to escape from everything and everyone.

I take off in a sprint, desperate to free myself of all thoughts, and eager for exhaustion. Only through exhaustion do I ever manage a few hours of decent sleep. It’s not easy, pushing my body the way that I do. But it beats those meds the army docs kept trying to get me to take—drugs that lock you into the nightmares with no way out.

Another breeze sweeps in, cooling my sweat-soaked brow as I reach the shore and turn left. It’s early, real early, the sun’s rays just starting to build in intensity. But already a few locals are out.

An old couple dip their spotted feet into the water, waving to me as I near. I tilt my chin, but not much more. I can’t give much more, and hell, I don’t want to.

The next group I pass is a cluster of old women speed walking, heads up, arms pumping, their focus tense and straight ahead. They don’t say shit, and neither do I.

A wave crashes along the beach, strong enough to cover my ankles and drench my shins. I ignore the cold sting it causes and push on. I’m only vaguely aware of the water’s withdrawal, losing sight of where I am, and who’s around me. And I’m glad.

Maybe I’m lost. But that doesn’t mean I want to be found.

“Spanky! Is that you?”

Jesus. H. Christ. No . . . just . . . no.

I know who’s there even before my stare cuts left. The brunette, the little one from the other night abandons the buoy ropes she’s untangling and waves, a big grin lighting up her small face.

I jerk my chin ahead and away from her, spitting every swear word I know through my teeth. My fists clench tight as that now familiar, annoying?hell, did I mention annoying??voice appears way too close in behind me.

“It is you!” she drawls.

I try to run faster, but I already ran a mile, and worked out close to two hours. So when the small graceful steps grow louder, and Cheerleader Skipper bounces to my side, it’s all I can do not to fall to the sand and beg God to take me.

“Wow, you’re fast. I almost didn’t think I’d catch you.”

She only sounds mildly out of breath which means she keeps talking.

Fuck. Me.

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