Page 24 of All Along

He frowns down at me. “A break-up?”

I roll my eyes. “You know. A break-up. As in what happens when a ‘couple’ no longer wants to be together.”

“You want to break up with me?”

I giggle. “We’re not dating, Caleb. We faked it for your mom, remember? Or did you get a head injury?” I pause. “Oh shit. Do you have a head injury? I was joking but is that why your mom was happy you have someone around while you’re injured? Do I need to get you inside? Should you be standing?”

I try to lead him inside but he growls. “I don’t have a head injury.”

“Phew.” I drag the back of my hand over my forehead. “I was freaking out there for a minute.”

A minute? Snort. I’ve been freaking out since the moment Nova mentioned Caleb could be seriously injured.

He drops his arm and motions to the door. “We should probably discuss this inside.”

Inside? I clamp down my muscles before I jump for glee. Caleb is letting me inside his cabin when his parents aren’t around. Take that, progress! I’m winning today.

I stroll into the cabin as if I’m not jumping for joy on the inside.Be cool, Maya. I’ve never been cool in my life but today is a great day to start.

“Have a seat.”

I sit on the sofa and wait for Caleb to join me. He doesn’t. He paces back and forth in front of me. He’s obviously limping and in pain. There are brackets around his mouth.

“Caleb.” I pat the sofa next to me. “You should sit down.”

“I don’t need to sit.”

Ah, big macho Caleb has arrived at the party. I let him be. I learned long ago you can’t win against a macho man.

“Okay. What do you want to discuss? If it’s about the break-up, I can break up with you. I’ll tell everyone I dumped you because you didn’t perform in bed.”

He chuckles and his dimple comes out. A dimple I want to trace with my tongue. How does his skin taste? How does it feel? I’ve imagined it a million times but I bet the real thing is better than my imagination. And I have a stellar imagination.

“You wouldn’t dare tell everyone in Smuggler’s Hideaway I can’t perform in bed.”

I cross my arms and narrow my eyes at him. “Oh yeah? Try me.”

He frowns. “You’re not telling anyone I can’t perform in bed since we’re not breaking up.”

I scratch my neck. “We’re not? You do realize we’re not actually dating, right?”

He sits on the coffee table in front of me. “I know. And I know I’m no prize.”

I rear back. “No prize? I’d like to revisit the idea of you having suffered a head injury.”

“I don’t have a head injury. But my leg is screwed.”

I reach for his hands and he squeezes mine. I’m too worried to enjoy the warmth of touching him. “How bad is it? What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. The injury is bad, but I’m working with a therapist and doing my exercises. I won’t always walk with a limp like some loser.”

“Some loser? Do you think of yourself as a loser? You get injured protecting this country and you’re a loser? Maybe I should have tutored you in English as well as Math.”

He squeezes my hands once more before releasing me. I immediately miss his warmth.

“Don’t make me out to be a hero.”

“It’s official. I definitely should have tutored you in English. Thus far, you don’t understand the definition of loser or hero. Those are pretty basic words. Are you certain you passed English class in high school?”

---