Inseverable: A Carolina Beach Novel (15 page)

Her voice quiets. “You’re all I ever think about, too.”

Good
.

I pull her against me, covering her with a blanket before reaching for my house phone. “Here. You better call your friends.”

Becca picks up on the first ring and she’s so loud I have no problem hearing her. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me,” Trin tells her.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“I went for a swim to clear my head. Callahan found me.” She takes a moment to smile at me. “I’m with him now.”

“You’re kidding.” Her voice drops. “Did you show him your titties?”

Seeing how Trin doesn’t answer right away, for Becca, that’s as good as hearing, “yes”.

“Holy fuck. You did didn’t you?” she squeals. “Hey, Trin’s over at Callahan’s showing him her titties.”

“No, shit,” Hale calls from a distance.

Trin covers her face when she catches my grin. “I have to go, Becks. Look, I’m sorry I worried you.”

“Aw, sugar, you can make it up to me by telling me all the dirty little details later. Bye now.”

“It was your idea to call her,” she insists when I start laughing.

I stroke her hair when she settles against me, trying to warm her rapidly cooling body.

“Where were you?” she asks. “You were gone a long time.”

She means when I took off without telling her. “I had some things to take care of,” I admit.

“I was worried.”

It’s what she claims, and I believe her. But while she’s not demanding more of an explanation, she does want to know why I left as abruptly as I did. I don’t really want to talk about it, but it’s because it’s her that I can. “A buddy of mine from the Army died.”

She lifts her head so she can see my face. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry.”

I shrug like it doesn’t affect me even though it damn well does. “The funeral was yesterday in Oklahoma. I left as soon as I heard to get there in time and drove all night to get back.”

“Were you close to him?” she asks cautiously.

“I served three tours with him,” I explain, my mind drifting away from her and back to my time back in Iraq. “During one of our raids, he was in a Range Rover that was struck by a missile. The rest of the boys inside were killed. He was considered lucky to have survived.” I huff. “I’m not so sure he’d agree. He lost his left arm and part of his face, also suffered permanent brain damage that affected his nervous system.”

“That poor man,” she says. “How did he die?”

I play with the strands of her damp hair, but I can’t look at her when I answer. “He killed himself, Trin. He couldn’t handle what happened. It wasn’t just the combat, his disfigurement, or even his girl leaving him when he came home. It was all of it, and more. No one would give him a job or a chance. He lost everything back in Iraq, including all those men who died when that missile hit, and what did he get in return? Absolutely nothing.”

We wait in silence for a while. When I finally bring myself to look at her, I see nothing but tears pooling in her eyes. “I’m sorry for your loss and for everyone who loved him,” she tells me, swallowing hard. “But most of all, I’m sorry for him, and what he must have gone through.”

My attention travels to the ceiling when that all that anger that flared at his funeral returns full force. “I know suicide is the worst kind of sin,” I say. “A straight ticket to hell. But I refuse to believe in a God that wouldn’t show mercy to someone like Billy. Someone so good, but so sick with grief, he sought peace the only way his beaten soul thought he could get it.”

I don’t realize the extent of my emotions until Trin’s fingers splay on either side of my face and she kisses my eyelids. Her touch is warm and delicate, something I could have used when I watched Billy’s parents drape their bodies across their son’s casket.

Christ, seeing them like that, and all those familiar faces breaking down like they did, it brought everything back in one cruel blow, triggering a slew of vicious memories and further riling all the ones that have been eating me alive.

“I believe your friend is in heaven, and whole, and loved,” she says, her own tears falling. “I’m only sorry he couldn’t find that peace here on earth.”

My arms wrap around her as she settles against me. “Thank you,” I whisper, not realizing how bad I needed to hear those words until they fell from her lips.

In the quiet that passes, I’m sure that she’s fallen asleep until she shifts her weight, and that gentle stare finds me once more.

“Callahan?”

“Yeah?”

“When I asked you if what was happening was normal, I didn’t mean what you thought I meant. I was speaking of what’s going on between us.” She sighs. “It’s hard to describe―and maybe it’s too soon to tell you. But what I feel when I’m with you, I’ve never felt with anyone else.” Her voice is so quiet it seems to drift away. “I just wanted you to know that. It’s one of the reasons I was so scared when you touched me.”

I don’t respond, keeping my jaw closed tight. Mostly because I feel exactly the same way, and because it scares the hell out of me, too.

Chapter Thirteen

Trinity

Callahan kisses me again. It’s so sweet. No,
he’s
so sweet. And even though I want to know what he’s thinking, I don’t ask, choosing instead to melt into this kiss.

The door swings open and good ol’ Sean walks through—like I’m not making out half-naked with Callahan.

“Oh,
shit
,” he says.

Callahan clutches me to him, trying to shield me, as he covers my back with that small throw.

“
Sean
. What are you doing here?’ I ask, fumbling with the blanket and trying to gather it around me.

“I found these,” he says, tossing me my clothes. “I wasn’t sure what happened to you and ran back here to call for help.” He smirks. “But looks to me you have all the help you need.”

“I told him to call from my place,” Callahan admits. He rubs his jaw, pausing when Sean makes no effort to leave. “Sean, now that you know Trin’s safe, how about you head back to the bar?”

Sean laughs like the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “Sure. I can do that.” He starts to leave, but then adds, “By the way. Nice rack, Trin. They ain’t so tiny, after all.”

“Get out of here, Sean!” I yell. By then he’s already out in the back, but that doesn’t mean I still can’t hear him crack up.

Callahan’s light touch lures my attention back to him. “Is it wrong that I’m glad he hadn’t seen these until now?” he asks, passing his hands over my breasts.

I watch the way his fingertips trace along my small curves. “It’s not like that with him, or Mason, or Hale. We’ve been friends forever and nothing more.”

“I wasn’t sure,” he says. “I know you’re a tight bunch.”

“We are, and I’d do anything for them. But they’re my brothers, and I’m the little sister they’ve always watched out for.”

I enjoy the quiet between us and the way Callahan continues to play before he finally drops his hands away. “I have to head back. I left Mason covering my side of the bar.”

My eyebrows lift to the ceiling. “You left Mason in charge? That boy can’t do more than pour beer.”

He laughs. “Yeah, he mentioned that.”

I start to rise, both of us laughing when we realize we’re a little stuck. “I’d better get cleaned up.”

“Me, too,” I agree.

Callahan appears with a new shirt and a pair of jeans moments later, stopping when he sees me dressed. “Thank Christ. I was worried you were going back out in your underwear.”

I glance at our linked hands as he leads me out.  “Now, why would I go and do a thing like that?”

We step onto the sand and follow the path out to the beach. “You’re acting like I didn’t catch you skinny-dipping,” he tells me, that testiness returning to his tone.

“I wasn’t skinny dipping. It was dark, and my panties and bra are black. Anyone who saw me probably mistook it for a bikini.”

“No, they didn’t,” he mutters. “What you were wearing isn’t anything close to what decent folk wear swimming.”

“You calling me indecent?”

“Yup,” he answers.

The couple I passed on my walk stroll by. I was alone then. I’m not now and it feels amazing. “So you’re saying I shouldn’t wear things like lacy panties and bras in front of you―”

“Trin.”

“Or like thongs or edible panties and such?”

“
Trin
.”

“Do you like cherry or strawberry?”

“
Trin.
I have to get back to work!”

“I meant on your ice cream. Get your mind out of the gutter, soldier.”

I try to storm off like I’m offended only for Callahan to wrap his arms me and lift me in the air. I squeak as he nibbles my neck.

“You really know how to drive a man crazy, you know that?” he murmurs against my ear.

“Is that good or bad thing?” I ask. I laugh when he doesn’t answer. “Sounds like it’s a good thing to me.”

He lowers my feet to the ground. This time he’s the one eyeing our intertwined fingers. “How did this happen?” he asks.

“You holding my hand?”

He quirks his eyebrow. “Among other things.”

I shrug. “It was bound to happen.”

He shakes his head and chuckles as we resume our pace. “Was it?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean we’ve been going steady for like three whole weeks now.”

Callahan almost grounds to a halt at my comment, but then pushes forward. It’s similar to people who are walking along, and suddenly remember something they forgot, but then say screw it anyway, and continue on their merry way.

“Something wrong?” I tease.

He regards me out of the corner of his eye and pretends to scowl. “Going steady for three weeks?” he repeats.

“Mmm-hmm,” I say.

“Christ,” he mumbles back.

“You’re cute when you’re all broody, Batman.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”

My focus trails from his face and way down south. “You’re right. You’re definitely more like Thor, God of Thunder. After all, isn’t he the one―” I pretend to fan myself. “
Whoo
, with the giant―”

“
Trin
!”

“I was going to say hammer. See there you go again, taking a perfectly innocent conversation straight into Smutville. Shame on you; trying to corrupt an innocent little thing like me.” 

He throws his head back and laughs, but then pulls me against him. I wind my arms around his neck, slowly losing my smile. For all I joke, I mean it when I say that I’m scared. I’ve never experienced this connection and draw I feel with Callahan.

His heart makes mine shatter into a million pieces all the while melting what remains, and his soul, while bruised and battered, holds strong in spite of the blows it’s taken. Given what he’s survived and endured, I’m in awe of him. That doesn’t mean the pain he buries deep isn’t something I long to spare him from.

The kiss he meets me with reignites my smile. I confess, that while it was his appearance that first made me want to know him, it’s the man beneath all this muscle that makes me want to keep him.

I stiffen. The thing is, I won’t be able to keep him long.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

Now doesn’t feel like the right time to tell him I’ll be leaving in September. In fact, it feels very wrong. I trust my instincts, hoping they won’t steer me someplace neither of us wants to be.

“Just thinking about you,” I answer him truthfully.

“All right,” he says, taking my hand and leading us down the beach.

He quiets, growing almost tight-lipped. I’m not sure if it’s because he doesn’t believe me, or because he’s having reservations about being with me. But as we reach the steps leading up to Your Mother’s, I realize now isn’t the time to ask, even when his hand slips away and he steps aside.

“After you,” he says.

I tell myself there’s no need to get upset―that he’s not snubbing me and his reaction is only related to his need to return to work. But like I said, insecurity is a real bitch. I slide my discarded flip-flops back on and walk ahead toward the inside bar, not at all ready to leave him.

Poor Mason is beside himself, standing with his hands out as he tries to talk down a crowd of irate women demanding he make them some Hurricanes.

“Beer!” he says. “I can only pour beer. Doesn’t anyone want beer?”

The women are screaming at him, making it clear that no, they don’t drink Bud, Heineken, or anything in between. Mason’s hefty shoulders slump when he sees Callahan.

“Thank God,” he mumbles.

Callahan inches in front of me, appearing more than ready to put some space between us. I think I should say something clever—something to lure his grin before he leaves me. And maybe if it wasn’t for Hunter and Blakeney showing up earlier, I could come up with something decent to say. Instead, I remain quiet, doubting everything he could feel about me, despite what happened at his place.

Callahan on the contrary has plenty to say, except he doesn’t exactly use words. He hauls me to him, graciously and very vigorously reintroducing his tongue to my tonsils.

My spine bends backward with how hard his body and mouth press against all my right parts, and my foot is doing this jerky-twitchy thingy. I’d like to say I wrap my arms oh-so gracefully around his broad and manly shoulders, but they’re too busy flailing like I’m falling from the sky because
yes
, it’s
that
kind of kiss.

He pulls away and grins. “I have to get back to work, baby,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear. “If you stick around until closing, I’ll take you home.”

I try to be all smooth-like and mature because that’s the kind of gal I pretend to be. But there’s no pretending. Nope. Not after that deep and very necessary exploration of his tongue.

Instead of “yes” or “sure”, something like “yush” comes out of my mouth. He chuckles and releases me slowly, but not before shooting me a wink that no one misses.

I may or may not have Beyoncé strutted back to my cheering and
woot-woot-woot-ing
friends. But I do refrain from high-fiving them. After all, I am a lady.