Page 17 of Inseverable (Carolina Beach)

Shit. That hurt barreled over me like a rolling tree.

I told her she was pretty. And I meant it. She damn well is. What I didn’t mean was for it to come out of my mouth. Same way I didn’t mean for that laugh to escape. Lord, I can’t remember the last time I laughed. Or smiled. Except with Trinity.

I shake my head.What the hell’s wrong with you, soldier?

I fill another tray. Margarita on the rocks here, a shot of Jaeger there, and more Budweiser bottles than that skinny waitress seems capable of carrying. She hefts it onto her shoulder, barely spilling a drop and heads over to the table filled with frat boys who can’t seem to shut the fuck up.

Jed keeps his eyes on them and our new waitress, knowing they’re probably seconds from starting shit. But while I know I should watch them too, my attention returns to Trinity.

I wasn’t sure what she expected to achieve running alongside me. For being a big ballbuster, it’s clear she’s plenty smart. And it doesn’t take a smart woman to figure out I want to be left alone. But she wouldn’t leave me until I made her.

The thought pisses me off. I had no right dumping her like she was nothing. As annoying as I find her, she’s not a bad person.

I fill another pitcher, pour more shots, trying to keep my head on work where it belongs. I don’t want to feelanything. Maybe that’s why Trinity pisses me off more than she should, around her I feel . . . everything. The way she?aw, hell?I don’t know. There’s just something about her . . .

A redhead slinks into the barstool in front of me and waves a few bills. I glance up, so she knows I see her. “What’ll it be?” I ask.

She grins and leans forward so her rack presses against the bar and elevates it slightly. “Three blow jobs.” Her eyes travel downward and she laughs. “Or whatcha think, maybe four, cowboy?”

I make three shots, take the bills, and then walk to the opposite register when she and her friends make a show of swallowing them down. The frat boys holler, of course, egging them on. I roll my eyes only to find Trinity standing right in front of me with two empty pitchers clutched in her hands.

She offers me a weak smile. “Hey,” she says.

I nod, but that’s all I offer. She’s not drunk or rude, not like some of the assholes that have stumbled in tonight. But that doesn’t mean I’ll be any friendlier. For all I think it was a dick move to ignore her like I did, what’s done is done, and I shouldn’t encourage her.

“What are you having?” I ask.

She blinks back at me, like she wants to talk and not just order. But then she swallows hard, speaking quietly. “Just Bud, please.”

I reach for the pitchers and move down the bar to the taps. One of the frat boys, the biggest in the group, abandons the redhead when someone else catches his eye. He stalks forward like he’s hot shit. My grip on the handles tightens as I watch him plop down next to Trinity.

“Dude. You’re spilling your beer,” a guy in a bright yellow shirt points out.

I switch the pitchers, keeping my eyes trained on Trinity. Frat Boy leans on the bar, making a show of checking her out. I half expect Trinity to talk to him. Hell, she talks to everyone. ‘Cept even though he seems to be talking to her, she keeps her attention ahead.

He asks her something. Whatever it is has her shaking her head, either in disbelief or rejection. He leans closer, pressing his mouth close to her ear.

Trinity whips around, smacking him across the face as she wrenches away from him, her bright eyes firing with anger. I can’t be sure if his mouth actually made contact with her, or if he said something that offended her. At this point, I don’t really care. I’m already to them, set to pummel the shit out of this asshole no matter what he did to her.

I slam the one pitcher I’d managed to fill directly in front of him. He’s so close to her, Trinity had to slip off the stool just to put some space between them.

“The hell?” Frat Boy yells when the beer sloshes and soaks his shirt.

I don’t ask what his problem is. I don’t tell him he’s had enough. What I do is lean forward and shove my face in his. “Get thefuckaway from her.”

I’m vaguely aware of the advancing crowd. Frat Boy’s friends are edging forward, and so are Trinity’s.

“Break his jaw, Clayton,” one of the other frat boys yells.

“Shutup, asshole,” Trinity’s friend fires back.

Yelling and taunts ensue. Every local there has had enough of these pricks. I don’t pay them no mind. Every speck of me is focused on Clayton, or whatever the hell his name is. He’s big. Probably plays ball. And based on that shit eatin’ grin cutting a line into his face, he probably thinks he can take me.

Problem is, he’s messing with the wrong soldier.

“It’s okay, Callahan,” Trinity insists, her hand gripping my arm.

“No, it’s not,” I rumble.

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