Page 67 of Inseverable (Carolina Beach)

And there’s nothing like this family here on earth.

Owen, Landon, and I stand when Miss Silvie and Trin rise from their chairs and start to reach for our empty plates. She bats her hands when we try to help. “Now, you boys stop that. Trinity, help me get dessert together. It’ll give your Daddy and brother time with Callahan.”

Time to shoot him between the eyes.

“Yes, ma’am,” Trin says, pulling the plate from my grip with a grin.

We lower ourselves back to our chairs, none of us saying anything even after Trin and her mama disappear into the kitchen. I can hear banging, the occasional word, and some giggling, but not much more than that as they skitter around cleaning up and preparing for dessert.

I wait quietly for her father and brother to speak. Turns out, I don’t have to wait that long.

“So you work at Your Mother’s?” Landon asks, making it damn clear he doesn’t approve.

“Yes, sir.” I call him “sir” even though he’s probably my age. But that’s what we do here in the south.

He watches me as he plays with the beer bottle in his hands. “You doing anything else?”

Do I have a decent job is what he means. “I’m fixing up my uncle’s old place. I’m about halfway done.” This time, it’s my turn to take a swig.

“What happens after you’re done with your uncle’s place?”

“Don’t know,” I tell him truthfully. Before Trin, I couldn’t think past the next day. Now? Hell, can I really blame the scrutiny crinkling the edges of her daddy’s and brother’s jagged stares? They don’t know me. They only know I’m with their precious little girl.

Landon’s focus wanders to Owen, pegging him with a look that clearly tells him it’s his turn. I brace myself for the hard hand only fathers know how to wield, with their words or with their fists. I don’t impress either of them. Not by a long shot.

I lift my beer to take another swig when Owen motions to the tattoo on my right arm, the one of the solider. “How long did you serve?”

The bottle doesn’t quite reach my lips before I place it back on the table. “Eight years, sir.”

Despite that I wasn’t trying to hide my ink, and that I was sure Landon saw it, Owen was the one to ask about it. But there’s something in my tone that appears to catch his interest. “Did you go in straight out of high school?”

I answer with a slight tilt of my chin. “I graduated, but missed the ceremony to get on the bus to boot camp.”

“How many tours did you do?” Landon asks.

By now, Landon’s tenor lacks the warmth it carried in his sister’s presence. I don’t know if he’s in the process of judging me, or already has. This man?boy really?doesn’t think I’m good enough for sister.

And maybe he’s right.

The blood pumps hard in my ears when I meet him square in the eye. “Four,” I respond.

His eyes widen slightly. “Shit,” he says, drawing out the word.

There’re lots of words for it. And that’s one of them.

“Iraq?”

“Yes,sir,” I answer Landon.

I wait for Owen to speak. For a long while his words don’t come. And even though I steel myself for what he may ask, I know then I’ll never be ready for all he has to say.

“Were you in Special Forces?”

He’s been watching me closely. I felt the weight of his stare drilling into my skull throughout my interaction with his son. He didn’t blink when he asked, and he doesn’t blink as he continues. “I doubt that tattoo’s just for show, boy.”

I straighten a little more. “No, sir. It’s not for show,” I tell him.

I don’t see Trin, or her Momma. But I feel my girl standing behind me. In their silence, I know they’ve heard our exchange.

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