Inseverable: A Carolina Beach Novel (10 page)

I lift my fork and point it at him. “
Exactly
. Glad we’re on the same page, here. What’s wrong? Don’t you like the eggs?”

“The eggs are good,” he snaps. “In fact, they’re the best damn eggs I’ve had in a long time.”

I swallow and reach for my orange juice. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because
you’re
sitting here with
me
talking about having sex with
other men
.”

“Would you prefer I talk about sex with other women?”

His jaw falls open like it did when I accidently shoved my finger up his nose. “You’ve had sex with women?”

“Oh, no. Not at all.” I polish off my juice. “But if I had, and that’s what I was talking about now, I bet you wouldn’t complain.” I smile sweetly. “Now, you go ahead and finish your eggs before they get cold.”

Once more, Callahan stares at me, stunned. At first, I’m not sure if he’s going to swear, or accuse me of being crazy,
again
. But then I see it, the edges of his mouth lifting slightly and those startling eyes weld onto mine.

I return his smile, but I don’t allow our stares to linger. I turn around, and face the ocean, well aware that this time, he’s looking at me and not away. It’s then I start to believe that I might stand a chance with Callahan. Goodness knows, I want to do a lot more than just make him smile.

Chapter Nine

Callahan

How the hell did this happen? I’m standing in front of a set of tall wood doors outside of Trinity’s house wearing my best pair of jeans, and the newest T-shirt I own. She invited me for supper after making enough sweet tea to last me a week. I glance at the bottle of wine in my hand, thinking it was a mistake. Mistake to buy it. Mistake to be here. And so were the flowers I bought. Thankfully, I had enough sense to leave them in the truck.

Too bad that sense was nowhere in sight when I agreed to supper.

The door swings open and one of her friends appear, the stocky one who’s built more for football than he is for lifeguard duty.

He leans forward, shaking my hand. “Hey, Callahan. How you doing?”

“I’m all right,” I answer slowly. It shouldn’t surprise me, he knows my name, but it’s still odd to hear it coming from his mouth.

“I’m Mason.” He looks down at the bottle I’m holding. “Now that’ll score you some major points.” He calls over his shoulder. “Trin, your man’s here!”

Her . . . man? The hell?

Another half-naked guy appears, the tall, lanky one who’s always flirting with the waitresses. He lifts the wine from my hand. “
Hey
,” he says, examining the bottle. “That's some classy shit there. Hey, Mace, 2014 was a good year, wasn’t it?”

“It was, Sean,” he says, rubbing his jaw like he’s trying not to laugh.

Sean throws open the door the rest of the way and calls out louder. “
Trin
, you coming? Callahan’s here.”

I step back, frowning. Both talk like they’ve been waiting on me to show up. When Trinity asked me over to thank me for breakfast (although she made it) I thought it would just be me and her. And when she told me she lived on Sugar Cane Road, I thought she lived in a house similar to mine―like the ones I’d passed on my way in―not a house big enough to have its own zip code.

Laughter erupts from the level below. I didn’t expect all these people―I expected―hell, not these young men looking back at me like they know something I don’t, that’s for damn sure.

I’m ready to tear on out of here when I see her skipping up a set of stairs that lead down to another level. “Curtis, check on the burgers, will you?” she tells the guy hanging out near the top. “Lianna, could you and the others take down the salads in the fridge?”

“You got it, Trin,” they say.

She bounces toward me, her dark hair sweeping behind her as she walks. She’s in tiny white shorts fringed at the bottom and a red bikini top that looks way too good on her. She smiles brightly when she sees the bottle and takes it from Sean’s hands.

“You brought wine? Oh, that’s so sweet,” she says.

She snags my elbow, her hold soft yet firm enough to keep me from hauling ass back down the driveway. “I didn’t know this was a party,” I mutter.

“Oh, it’s not―not really. Every Sunday the gang usually heads up here after work. It’s close enough that most people just walk.”

Which explains why I didn’t see any cars. She leads me down the marble, that’s right,
marble
steps of the curved staircase.

“Hey, Callahan,” one of her other friends says as he makes his way up the steps.

He stops in front of us. “Trin, can I borrow your car?” he asks. “Looks like we need more beer. Oh, look at that,
wine
.” He pats my arm. “Nice move. Classy.”

“So I hear,” I tell him.

He cocks his head and frowns. I’m not trying to be an asshole. But I’m also not volunteering to be anyone’s friend.

“Hale,” Trin says, luring his attention. “My keys are on the hook in the kitchen―the one by the door. Take Tony and Jonathon with you, they offered to pay, and it is their turn.”

“Sure thing, Trin,” he says. He jogs up the steps, but not before shooting me one last look over his shoulder.

She sighs and even though voices trail from upstairs and downstairs, for the moment we’re alone on the steps. “I was hoping you’d be okay with everyone being here.”

She knows I keep to myself so yeah, I’m wondering why she wants me here. Am I someone she wants to get to know more? Or am I just another pal to hang out with?

Her dark hair slides along the wall as she leans against it and plays with the bottle in her hands. A few people carrying bowls of food pass us before she speaks again. “I know you’re not what some refer to as a people person,” she says. “But you might have noticed I am.”

“I might have noticed.”

She laughs and turns her head to the side, her grin fading as she continues. “My friends mean a lot to me, and this is our last summer together before we move on with our lives. I can’t ditch them for a guy.” She faces me, smiling slightly. “No matter how much I like him.”

I’m surprised in a way she put it all out there. My first thought is to set her straight and tell her there’s nothing between us. But seeing how I can’t stop thinking about her, and how bad I wanted to kiss her in my kitchen
and
when I drove her back to her post, I don’t say anything.

I wasn’t supposed to fall for a girl. Especially one who can’t keep her mouth shut for two whole minutes―who talks about one night stands like I’m one of her girlfriends―who pushes her way into my life and takes on men ten times her size to protect
me
―a man who’s shot and killed, and . . .

“What are you thinking about?”

I can’t tell her, so I switch it up so I don’t have to. “Just wondering why I’m here. Is it to get your friends’ approval?”

“No, not at all. More like their blessing.”

She smiles, causing that sprinkle of freckles on her nose and cheeks to arch. Damn, she’s pretty. Who am I kidding? Trin’s beautiful.

I swallow back the need to kiss her again. “I don’t know if you’ll get what you want.”

She makes a show of trailing her gaze from my face down my body. “Oh, I don’t know. . . You’re here, aren’t you?”

Can’t say she’s wrong about that.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

She wraps her arm around mine. Like a tamed lion, she leads me downstairs. I don’t fight free of her hold which is odd, and even stranger yet, I don’t want to.

The lower level has a pool, patio, and barbecue area with walls that open up into a large backyard where a volleyball net’s been set up. The foundation of the house is all dense slate which is probably why I couldn’t hear the group when I first pulled in.

Trin’s friends: Hale, Sean, and Mason, make it a point to hang out with me, sticking with me even when she flutters off with Becca or when her hostess duties demand her attention. They’re good guys, especially Hale who seems to have moved past the dick way I treated him.

He nudges me and motions to where Trin’s appeared with an old guitar. “Come on. It’s show time,” he says.

I hesitate, thinking he means for me to entertain them until I see everyone gathering around the fire pit and Sean reach for the guitar. “All right, what’ll it be?” he says.

About six people shout out requests. I sit and take another sip of my beer. Trin takes a seat next to me, catching me off guard when she wraps her arms around mine and rests her chin on my shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“You having fun?” she asks.

“It’s all good,” I say.

It’s then I notice that guy―the one who’s been checking Trin out every time she passes―take a seat across from us. He flashes another approving smile as his stare travels down her body (yet again) like he can’t wait to get his hands on her.

It’s clear he’s into her. It’s also clear that by now, I want to beat his ass.

Men are possessive. It’s an innate trait that’s withstood the passage of time. Tonight’s no different, especially with this woman latched to my side.

“Who’s that?” I ask her.

The guy looks away when she glances ahead. “Hmm?”

“The guy in the red shirt,” I say, loud enough for him to hear me, and let him know that I know he’s looking at her even when it’s obvious she’s with me.

“Oh. I think his name is Davis. One of the new girls brought him. He’s her cousin or something. Why?”

I take another pull of my beer. “Just asking.”

Sean begins to strum the guitar. He’s good, real good, playing a nice rendition of
Give a Little Bit
, that old Supertramp song. For a bunch of twenty year olds, they know all the classics. Maybe because they’re the ones best played on a guitar. Everyone joins in, except for me. I’m too captivated by Trin singing next to me. Her voice is sweet, tender―very unlike that awful way she was belting out that rap song the other day on the beach.

Three Dog Night’s
Never Been to Spain
is next. Trin knows that one, too, stopping between lyrics to grin up at me.

Sean continues to play, taking requests, but then people start taking turns singing by themselves.

“Hey,” that Davis guy calls at the end of a Brad Paisley song. “Mind if I have a go?” He’s asking Sean, but looking at Trin.

Sean shrugs. “I don’t give a shit.”

He sends the guitar around the circle so Davis can have it. I don’t realize how tight I’m balling my fists until my short nails dig into my palms hard enough to leave marks.

Now, not only does he pick Toby Keith’s
God Love Her
, he pisses me off by singing it well―and singing it to my girl!

Okay, not
my
girl. But damn it all, she’s sitting right next to me.

Trin doesn’t seem to notice, but Hale, Becca, Sean, and Mason, all exchange glances, not missing how I’m ready to pound the guy for being a disrespectful son of a bitch. He finishes to― get this―
applause
from the rest of the group.

With a wink, he stretches his arms out and offers me the guitar. “Want to give it a try there, partner?”

I didn’t come here to sing or fight, and while I’m leaning more toward the latter, I can’t disrespect Trin’s place. I yank the guitar with enough force to jerk him forward and meet him with a grin that’s nowhere near friendly. “Sure. Why the hell not?”

Trin relinquishes her hold and adjusts her position so she can see me better. I pause, taking in her encouraging smile, and how it lights up her face.

‘Cept as I fumble with the strap so it rests over my lap, and place my fingers on the right markers, I’m beginning to think I’m in way over my head. Not only because
she’s
watching, but because everyone’s watching right along with her.

I do my best to ignore the whispers behind me, and the mutters from Davis who’s started laughing. For some reason playing something I learned by heart so many years ago is a lot harder than it should be. That said, I’ve taken long enough and need to get started. So I focus on the prettiest girl here. The one sitting directly in front of me, whose eyes remind me of a warm autumn day.

My fingers begin to move long before I’m fully prepared, strumming the first chords of Kenny Chesney’s
Anything But Mine
. Maybe I could’ve picked a better song, one that wasn’t about summer love. But like I said, men are possessive and I’ll be damned if I let a guy in plaid shorts and boat shoes show me up.

I start off slow, allowing the melody and my courage to build. With my next breath, I open my mouth and sing the first verse. “
Walking along beneath the lights of that miracle mile, me and Mary making our way into the night…”

Sounding more Chris Young because of my deep voice, I capture the right rhythm and make it work. Everyone falls perfectly still, including Trin who’s no longer smiling. Her pink lips form an oval like she can’t believe I’m doing what I’m doing. Maybe she likes it. At least, that’s what I hope, because right now, I’m singing it solely to her.

The last time I sang in a group was for my boys back in Iraq, back in our tent to try and drown out the distant blasts, and make like we didn’t have to meet the enemy head on the next morning, all of us pretending like we didn’t have to kill yet again and that’d we’d all return the next night in one piece.

Each pass of my hands, and each press from my fingers, stirs one of many painful memories I’ve tried to forget, forcing me to avert my gaze from Trin’s. It doesn’t seem right to feel what I’m feeling when I look at her―not when the memories that have plagued my dreams and woken me from sleep flash across my mind as clear as glass in the early morning sun.

The excess of emotion firing through me range from good, like when I catch Trin’s stare, to not so good, when I think back to how many didn’t make it back from that raid. But everything I’m feeling, I feel it down to my heart, using it to fuel each verse. I finish the song, not bothering to look up until my fingertips finish plucking that last note.