Guys like Caleb don't need people like me. He's an officer, a West Pointer. Caleb fits here among the rich kids and the big brains. But even with all that, I can't for the life of me figure out why Eli scooped him up. He reeks of old money and East Coast elitism.
I sigh over my beer. I really don't feel like f*ck
ing dealing with everything about Caleb that drives me over the cliff of sanity. He hasn't seen me yet, which is a good thing. I'm going to finish my beer and get the hell out of here.
"Fine. But it's on you if he triggers my PTSD by talking about how hard summer camp was at West Point." A joke is easier than the truth.
And the truth right now isn't something I can risk unpacking. Not without bringing up some really bad memories.
Eli grins and it’s amazing how not scary he looks when he smiles.
Then again, going to war changes a guy. I've never seen what he looked like before the war. I suppose going to war counts as a transformative event. I'm damn sure not the person I was before I left.
Just like that, old pain resurrects, and I take another long pull off my beer, trying to find something to anchor me to the world before I slip into an alcohol-induced abyss.
I deliberately circle my thoughts back to Abby and meeting her in an hour. I glance at my watch. Fifty-three minutes. I haven’t seen her since that moment after class, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. It was the closest thing to aroused I’d felt in as long as I could remember. I'm twenty-five years old. I'm not supposed to be celibate, but the f*ck
ing war has neutered me.
The door to the bar swings open, and I see her the moment she steps into the dark interior.
Something is wrong. I was supposed to meet her. And yet, she’s here. One look at her face and I'm on my feet, crossing the space to her. "What is it?"
I want to put my arm around her. I want to pull her close and let her lean before she collapses. "Can we go somewhere?" Her voice breaks, shattering my heart with it.
"Yeah. Sure. Let me close out my tab with Eli."
I step back to the bar and hand Eli my card. Caleb stumbles back to the bar from the latrine. His Brooks Brothers shirt is untucked and wrinkled and he smells like he crawled out of a bottle of tequila. He slaps me hard on the back.
I barely manage to keep my expression neutral even as I shift to keep him away from Abby. There’s something about the way he looks at women that’s…unsettling. I’m trying to behave, if only because Eli asked me to and because Abby is here.
I’d really like to avoid her seeing the worst of me at the moment.
I just want to get out of here, away from him and the thousand bad memories he’s resurrecting just by breathing. I might completely lose my shit if he starts in about what a badass he is.
Hatred is a powerful thing and Caleb—not the person but what he represents—is on the short list.
Jesus, Eli needs to close my tab out so I can get the hell out of here.
“Hey, look at you.” Caleb glances over at Abby and nudges me in the elbow. “Finally gonna get some, huh?”
Just like that, Caleb crosses the line. It’s an innocuous statement, one that shouldn’t set me off. But I know this guy and I know where his mind just went, taking Abby with him into the filth and the grime and the grit. My hand moves before my brain fully engages and I shove him back. “Watch your mouth.”
He smiles and it is cold and patronizing. “No need to be so f*ck
ing sensitive. She’s just a piece of ass.”
I react before I really think.
I slam my fist into his face. His cheek splits open and the sight of his blood feeds the need in me for violence. To hurt him for those hateful words. I hope to Christ Abby didn’t hear him.
The blow sends him sprawling across the barroom floor, and I’m about to follow him down, but Eli is there, blocking me from taking his f*ck
ing head off.
I shake my hand and take a step away from Caleb, who has managed to push himself upright. Blood splatters on his pale blue Brooks Brothers button-down.
Hitting him felt better than it should have.
Eli steps between me and Caleb and jabs his finger toward the door. “Out.”
I guide Abby out of the bar, unsure of where to put my hands, what to do with them.
“Friend of yours?” she asks. There’s forced lightness in her voice, a tension that mixes with whatever was there when she came into the bar.
I need something to fill the void between us. Something to distract me from the look in Caleb's eyes that filled me with disgust. Maybe I was just looking for a fight.
I was, but that doesn't mean Caleb doesn't need his ass whipped. Just thinking about it gets my blood burning again.
“Not exactly.” I drag my hand through my hair and breathe slow and deep.
“Looks like there’s a history there.” Her voice is quiet. Husky and thick and reserved.
“He’s…he reminds me too much of my old platoon leader.”
“Sounds like you miss the guy.”
Her comment catches me off guard and I smile unexpectedly. “Something like that.”
“Do you miss it? The Army?”
I swallow at the innocence in that question. How can you miss something that destroyed you? That would have taken everything you had? “Yeah, I guess I do.”