Page 67 of Caelum

“Traitor,” I joked and grinned at her when she giggled. “I’ll forgive you though.”

We retreated to the kitchen island where we’d stacked our pizza, and as I began eating and she finished off her slice, a comfortable quiet settled between us.

I grabbed some milk from the fridge and two glasses and some cookies from one of the cupboards after we’d eaten the pizza—she used the microwave twice more—and armed with snacks, I asked, “I take it you’re feeling better?”

She frowned. “Better?”

“You were sick in the gym.” My tone was grim. If I could beat the shit out of Coach, I would have.

“Oh.” Her nose wrinkled. “Yeah. I was okay after I puked. Then I was just hungry. I’ve been hungry all day.”

My lips twitched—her devouring three slices of pie had proven that.

“You’re new to all the exercises so you should take it easier.”

She shrugged. “Coach says that it won’t get easier until I build stamina. I don’t like him,” she admitted with a huff. “He’s mean.”

Not smiling was hard. “He is. But he’s cool. Or, he will be when you’re a little more…” I cringed.

“In shape?” she teased.

Her shape was perfect as is, but for Caelum’s purpose? Yeah, it wasn’t.

That thought hit me like a punch to the gut.

Eve wasn’t soldier material. I knew that like I knew my fucking name. But that was everyone’s future here.

Would she survive the reality of the world outside these gates?

Terror filled me at the idea of hernotsurviving. My body burned with it, and I felt myself break out into a sweat.

I couldn’t lose someone else.

I just…

I couldn’t.

Wouldn’t.

“Hey, what is it?” Her soft hand cupped mine, and I realized the glass in my grip was no more.

How had that happened?

Broken glass and milk covered me, and I stared down at it, unaware how it had happened.

Shaking my head, I whispered, “Sorry.”

“No need. Are you hurt?”

Luckily, I wasn’t. “Just wet.” My smile was tight while I collected the broken shards and shoved them in the trash then, as she mopped up the milk, I washed up.

When her hand touched my back, I flinched, then realizing she might take that as an interrogation when it was simply a reaction to pain, I whipped around and grabbed her fingers in mine. “Sorry. You made me jump.”

Her eyes were wide like saucers as she stared into mine. The kitchen light was harsh. It was industrial, so the place wasn’t exactly romantic, but what I saw in her gaze had me churning up inside.

The need to protect her was overwhelming, but how could I protect her from the future? From what was coming our way the second we graduated?

I couldn’t.

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