Page 71 of Inseverable (Carolina Beach)

My smile fades as his leaves him. He averts his head to the left. But the only thing there is a wall. “You may want to take that back,” he says.

“I don’t want to.”

I barely get the words out before he carefully separates us and disappears into the bathroom. I clasp my hand over my eyes, trying not to cry, but those tears silently push their way through.

My misery isn’t caused by his rebuff?Iknowhe loves me. He’s never said it, but I feel it. Feel it every time he opens doors for me, pulls me close, and seeks me out to make sure I’m safe. His soft words, his gentle ways, his kindness?no man has ever been this good to me who wasn’t blood.

I sit up and wipe my eyes, staring at the wetness they leave against my fingertips. No, these tears aren’t for me. They’re for him, because he can’t believe I love him.

Before he can return, I dress and leave the room. I walk down the hall and into the spare bathroom. Without meaning to, I slam the door a little too hard.

Callahan mistakes it for me walking out on him. The bathroom door in his room flies open and quick feet speed past the bathroom I’m in. With a crash, he wrenches the front door open, yelling my name. “Trin!”

Desperation and fear etch into his voice like a shard of broken glass. I grip the edges of the sink, sighing with relief. It’s not that I enjoy hearing his pain?I don’t in the least. But I can’t say his reaction doesn’t reinforce what I believe. Without intending to, and through his actions, Callahan just proved I mean more to him than he’s ever claimed.

Again, I wipe my tears, and call out when he yells my name again. “I’m in the bathroom.”

There’s a brief pause before his bare feet pad against the hardwood floor and stop outside my door. “You all right?” he asks on the other side.

I wrestle with how to answer, not wanting to lie. I’m not all right. I can’t be knowing he hurts as much as he does. “I’ll be out in a minute,” I manage.

I find a spare toothbrush and comb, and freshen up. The comb is one of those tiny ones from a man’s grooming kit so it takes me some time to run through my thick hair. When I step out, he’s leaning on the opposite wall with his arms crossed, wearing nothing but an old pair of sweats cut into shorts.

He lifts his head. “I thought you left.”

In two strides I’m in his arms. He kisses the top of my head, curling his body around me. I almost tell him I would never leave him, but that’s a lie. My time in the Corps is coming up fast. It’s already August 1st, and I’m scheduled to fly out the second week in September. I’ve asked for extension in writing, knowing I can’t simply walk out on Callahan?not this soon—not after everything we’ve been through.

My struggle is, I may just have to.

I’ve committed every part of my being to Callahan. But I’ve also committed the next two years and three months of my life to the Corps. I’m trying desperately to push it off as long as I can, but even that feels wrong.

The director emailed me back a few a days ago. She said she’ll see what she can do. But she made it clear how few volunteers are being recruited, and how desperate they are for people with medical training. She reminded me how many kids they’re losing who could’ve been saved through vaccinations. Children are dying, and here I am making excuses so I can be with my boyfriend.

All logic and common sense compel me to be honest with Callahan. Ihaveto tell him. I know this. But I just told him I love him, and he reacted so badly when he thought I took off on him.

I bury my face against his chest. Things are screwed up, and there’s no simple solution. He won’t follow me across the world. No matter what he feels for me. He made it clear the other week when I asked him if he’d ever leave the country. I intended to tell him about the Corps then, and ask him to consider coming with me. But his decision to never to leave the states was absolute. I can’t blame him, not after being gone for so long and everything he’s endured.

But I can blame myself for placing meandhim in this position.

“You know what you said,” he asks, his voice deepening as his hands trail to my hips. “What I told you to take back?”

I almost repeat it, but I don’t think he needs to hear those words just then. “Yes.”

“I’m going to tell you a few things about me?facts very few people know. After I’m done, you can decide for yourself if you want to keep feeling what you think you do. But if you don’t, I’ll?” He stops, and for a few seconds it’s like he ceases breathe. It’s not until I hear him swallow that he continues. “Just know you can take it back,” he adds quietly.

He pushes off the wall and leads me to the couch, turning down the air conditioning and draping a small throw against my legs when he realizes how frigid the room is. I won’t lie, the odd stab to his voice scares me. So when I adjust the throw around me, I can’t help but bunch the edge in my hands and clutch it against my chest.

He sits beside me, leaning forward so his big feet are planted firmly on the floor and his forearms rest above his knees. He regards me, the pain in his expression as obvious as the chill spreading along my exposed toes. I tuck them beneath me, trying to stay warm and protect myself from what’s to come.

It’s only when he turns his head away from me that finally speaks. “I’ve killed a lot people, Trin,” he says, taking a few breaths to force out the rest. “They weren’t all adults, and they weren’t all men.”

I know war doesn’t discriminate. But I’ll admit, it’s not easy to hear those words come from a man who holds me so tenderly.

“I’ve killed women, and young boys too young to grow their first beards.” His hands ball into fists. “But one of my last kills was a little girl who couldn’t have been more than five.”

This time, I’m the one who falls perfectly still, the first draw of air I manage strangely shallow. “Did . . . did she get in the way?” I stammer. “I mean, was it accident?” In my trembling voice, I’m begging him to tell me yes.

He meets me with ghostly blue eyes. “No. Every kill I made was intentional.”

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