Free Inseverable: A Carolina Beach Novel by Cecy Robson

crinkle my forehead. “We are talking about running, right?”
    He loses his footing, but then catches himself, and semi-smoothly resumes his gait. My muscles are tightening so bad I should focus on breathing. But watching Callahan lose his footing and his composure is too much to resist. No. He’s too much to resist.
    “Ever have a one-night stand?” I ask.
    “What?— Jesus .”
    I breathe deeply so I can keep talking because hey, Trinity Summers is on a roll.
    “I won’t think less of you if you have,” I tell him. “You’re young, these things happen.”
    He says nothing so of course now I have to. “So the times that you have, were they like a lot? Or was it more like one here, one there―Oh, but don’t tell me if it involves more than one girl, or a man, or crazy shit like on a roller coaster. That sort of thing is personal.”
    “ And this isn’t ?” he fires back.
    “I’m just saying―”
    “All right, you want to go there. Have you ever had a one-night stand?”
    He means to shut me up. If so, he needs to invest in duct tape. “Yes. Twice. But it’s not really my thing.”
    “You’ve had one-night stands?” He emphasizes the first word, but the rest is distinctly quieter.
    I smile thoughtfully. “I had a bad breakup last Christmas. Afterward . . . I don’t know, I was sort of lost, and maybe a little desperate. So, I did.” I look up at him. “What about you? Have you had your share of hook-ups? Or are you more the committed type?”
    He returns to his more solemn demeanor, making me think I somehow hurt him by asking—and I absolutely want to kick myself for it.
    I start to apologize only for him to interrupt. “I had a couple of steady girls in high school. Nothing real serious. After I enlisted, I didn’t have the time or opportunity to meet anyone.”
    “That makes sense.” I wait then say, “What about when you weren’t in active duty? Or when you got out?”
    He thinks about it. “That’s when I had my share of . . . interactions.”
    “Oh,” I answer, giving away the sadness I suddenly feel.
    Aside from caressing his face, I haven’t really touched Callahan. Not like I’ve wanted to. It bothers me to learn there’ve been plenty of women who have stroked a lot more than his beard. It’s not that I’m surprised. Not by a long shot. That doesn’t make the news easier to swallow.
    Callahan isn’t a good-looking man. Nope, not at all. Callahan is hotter than fried chicken sizzling in Hades. The waves of his dark brown hair have lightened significantly over the past few weeks, giving his ravishing blue eyes an extra sparkle. His thin beard crawls along his jaw, up and over full lips that can alter him from rugged hunk, to sexy god when they pull back into a grin.
    “Have there been many of these interactions?” I ask, my voice so quiet it surprises even me.
    “No,” he admits before cutting his eyes my way and offering a smile that flips my heart. “It’s not really my thing either.”
    Ah, and there’s my smile, too. “Good,” I say.
    He slows to a stop when we reach a path lined with palms and mangroves to our right. “This is where I get off,” he tells me.
    I wipe some of the perspiration from my brow and peek down the path. A ranch, covered in weather-beaten grey shingles, rests further back among the ancient trees. The trim and newly erected deck are painted in a fresh coat of bright white, and the roof and windows appear brand new. I take my time admiring the work he seems to have put in, permitting my breathing to relax.
    “This is old man Callahan’s place,” I say after a moment. “I take it you’re related?”
    He nods. “He was my uncle. I was named after him.”
    “Now that I know where you live, I figured as much.”
    He crosses his arms, appearing to look at the house without really seeing it. “Did you know him?” he asks.
    “Only a little bit,” I answer. “I’d see him around town now and again. At the post office or