I report to work half-excited and half-dreading a daylight reunion after our awkward night. My brain hasn’t processed the rare flirting followed by the intense encounter with Kaleb’s superior. My fate is in his hands, and I take some comfort in the fact that he’s been nothing but a saint so far.
“Morning,” I say.
“Morning.”
His hair is still wet from bathing and he appears somewhat rested behind his desk. I try not to linger too long on thoughts of him in the shower.
“You look better.”
“Do I really, though?” he asks, serious before breaking into a devastating grin.
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Eventually. Hey, come here. I want to show you something.”
I approach his desk and lean over his shoulder to see the screen. Of course he smells as good as always. My brain rushes to water streaming over contoured muscles. Determined hands working soap over hot skin. Steam. So much steam. I blink and hold my breath to regain focus. It’s going to be a long day if my body betrays me every time I move within three feet of this man.
“It’s an account of what happened yesterday,” I observe. “This is your report.” I’m praying he doesn’t notice my wheeze from the lack of oxygen.
“Yes, exactly. I want to show you what I did so you can start to learn the process.”
Right. Reports. My job. My supervisor. My captor.
“This section here is all the background data. Time, date, names of those involved, etcetera.”
“My name is listed too.”
“Yes, we have to report the names of all involved.”
He scrolls down to the next section. “This is the description of the incident. What happened, what was said, who did what. Basically, every detail I can remember.
“This is the input from the medical staff. Official diagnoses, treatments, surgeries. And here,”—he highlights an exhausting list of numbers and codes— “the inventories. Every item damaged or consumed as a result of the incident. From your bloody jacket to the staples in Vi’s head.”
I release the air from my chest. “It must have taken you all night to put this together.”
“A lot of it. But I only have fourteen hours from the time of the event to file the report so here we are. You want to do the honors?”
My senses ignite when he turns. The smell of aftershave, the heat of skin, perfect lips inches away. Just a small trip in the right direction and… My pulse pounds, blood rushing south as I force myself to swallow unthinkable scenarios. I’m way past showers now. I’m back to forbidden midnight dreams that make morning fantasies unbearable. I don’t know when this switch turned on, but I’m losing control of the constant flood of electricity.
I clear my throat. “What do you mean, ‘do the honors’?”
“Here.” He guides my hand toward the monitor. “Just click ‘Submit.’” His tone is casual, an easy task. As though I have command of my nerves and joints when his fingers collide with mine. One button. He doesn’t let go and lightning surges up my arm, through my body. I’m afraid I actually do need his help pushing that one button and pretend to focus on the 16-digit number that replaces the string of text.
“What’s that?” My breathy question buys time for his thumb to graze over my knuckle.
“Our confirmation code.” Our.
The hint of a smile at my ear sends shivers down my back, straight to...
“What do you do with that now?” This question I regret when he lets go and pulls out a small notebook. I replenish my lungs as he scribbles the numbers below a long list of similar ones. I’ve watched him write for weeks, but this is the first time I notice he’s left-handed.
“Technically, I shouldn’t have to do this. The code should be in my profile history for reference, but I learned the hard way that it doesn’t always happen.” He taps the screen. “Look at that. Two minutes to spare. Couldn’t have done it without you, Admin Assistant Sorenson.”
“Yeah, you really needed me to push that button.” And I didn’t even do that.
“You never know. My hands were getting sore from all that typing.” His eyes change as he leans back and studies me, gaze shifting to my fingers. They still burn from his touch. “There’s something else we need to talk about.”
“Kaleb, come on...”
He shakes his head. “No, hear me out. What happened in the yard— It’s bad enough that I’m in a position of authority, but you were also in a vulnerable place. What I almost did was inexcusable.”
“What you almost did was exactly what I wanted you to do.” I lock onto his gaze. “You say it like I still don’t.”
He breaks away, jaw clenched. I remember the pounding of his heart, the feel of hard muscle tensing against my body. The look in his eyes when they explored mine. I may have been vulnerable then, but I’m not now.
Damn the rules.
I’m not always brave, but my sudden hunger makes me fearless as I slide my fingers along his cheek, daring him to deny me again. His flinch gives way to an open stare that cuts through my restraint. A huge mistake as this small touch triggers a craving for the rest.
“Sabrina Peters was crazy for letting you go,” I whisper. “I’m sure she regrets it every day.”
“I doubt it.”
“It’s not possible.”
“Andie, stop.” He removes my hand, breaking our connection with confidence.
It hurts, but I understand the stakes. I’ve seen what happens when he loses a toothbrush.
“I know.” I retreat to a safe distance, even though my blood still longs to explore and own. My pulse feels audible. Or is that his? The politics get hazy when he avoids my scrutiny.
“Are you allowed to have relationships?”
God, it’s the worst question I could ask at this moment, but it’s all I can think about. His naked body protecting a perfect soul. Raging jealousy for the woman who gets to claim both.
His gaze shoots to me, but it’s not anger in his expression. It’s something more troubling.
“I can’t have that conversation with you. Especially not right now.”
I lean into his desk. “I’m not fishing for anything. It’s just, after everything you’ve been through, I want to know that you can. That you’re happy.” I’m a liar. I’m fishing like my life depends on it because I want it to be me. I want to pretend. I want to torture him with the same longing I’m supposed to deny.
“Happy?” His bitter laugh cuts through me. “Happy, right.”
“Why is it a ridiculous question?”
“It’s… Shit.” His hand scrubs his short dark hair as he turns away.
Yep, politics be damned. “No, I want to know. Why is it so absurd for you to have someone in your life? Is that a rule? No love, no sex? They’re allowed to suck up all your light with no return?”
“No, it’s not. It’s just—”
“So you could have a relationship if you wanted one.”
“Andie, stop.”
“Why? Why is this conversation impossible for you?”
“Because it is, and it’s none of your business.”
“It’s a simple question.”
“Seriously, drop it.”
“What are we even arguing about? Why are you upset?”
“I’m not upset!”
“Yes, you are. You’re pissed off and it makes no sense. All I asked was if you were with someone. What’s so ridiculous about that? Sabrina Peters thought you were worth caring about at one point.”
“Will you stop bringing up Sabrina Peters? Stop with all of this. It’s none of your business who I’ve been with, or who I haven’t, or how I feel, or what I’m afraid of, or why I’m pissed right now. I am none of your business, Andie. I will never be your business.”
I quiet. It’s a lot to absorb. My superior yelling at me, accusing me of prying. My friend in pain. My crush denying any hope of fulfillment for either of us. And I’m ignoring direct orders. Flat-out reducing his authority to reprimand-level consequences or worse. But I can’t drop it. I’m staring into history, the future, evidence that’s been mined to the surface. We’re angry because we’re stirring secrets.
“I’m asking because I care about you, Kaleb. You spend every minute of every day sacrificing yourself for others. I just need to know that someone is taking care of you too.”
My victory falls flat when the dam explodes. “Taking care of me? Who would want to take care of me? Look at me!” he shouts, shoving back his chair. “Look!”
He rips off his shirt, and my brain isn’t fast enough to block my gasp. Not when it’s confronted with perfection tarnished by marks that stop my heart.
“Yes, that’s right. That’s the look I expected. Go ahead and take it in. See what I am, Andie. See it.”
His hatred isn’t for me, which is worse. Angry tears burn in his eyes. Unfiltered pain that I’ve forced to the surface—for what? What am I supposed to do with the open wounds now that I’ve dug my nails in?
“How can I be with a woman when I’m barely a man anymore? I’m scar tissue and metal, a half-functioning mutant. Is this how I’m supposed to love and protect someone?”
He holds up his right hand, but only three of his five fingers ball into a fist. I choke at the thought that he wasn’t always left-handed.
“And this.” He glares down at his chest, so littered with scars I can barely see the outline of muscle and tendons. “Oh and my face.” He lets out another harsh laugh. “I’m not even the person Sabrina Peters knew. I may look the same in the mirror, but it’s not me anymore. It’s the face the doctors gave me. I’m not real, Andie. I’m a story you can’t even begin to imagine. No one can and no one ever will.”
He swipes at his eyes and takes a step closer. “Don’t you see that I’m trying to protect you?”
“From whom?”
“From me.”
A fire explodes in my chest, burning up my throat and into my eyes.
“Bullshit,” I hiss.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re a liar. You’re lying to yourself, and I’m not going to stand here and let you do it.”
“Oh? I’m a liar now too?”
I cross my arms. “Yeah. A liar. I haven’t heard so many lies since the last election, and I will not let you talk about my friend like he’s a monster.”
“What do you know about him?” he says, reaching for his shirt, but I snatch it away and shove him into the wall.
“Hey! What the hell?”
“Just listen.” I cover his mouth with my fingers. “You know what I see when I look at you?”
He tenses, but his ire reduces to a blazing glare.
“How about this version of the story? A woman gets taken by uniforms with guns and tossed into a prison where she’s forgotten like a sack of dirty laundry. Terrified and alone, she thinks her life is over; she’s nothing now. Then, a handsome soldier comes sauntering toward her with this easy smile that makes her feel like she’s human. She matters.”
I move my fingers from his lips and lace them through his right hand. “Your hand can’t make a fist? Well, you know what it can do? It can give someone your breakfast ration when she’s hungry and forgotten. It can keep another alive as she lies bleeding on the pavement. It can send an inferno through my blood every time it brushes my skin and—”
I suck in a breath. Emotions rip at me, but I’m not finished. I stare at his chest, covered with dozens of beautiful scars that I want to understand and claim. Every one should be mine. They could be if he would just let me in.
“I see arms that held me when I broke down. Arms I want around me right now.” I trace silver lines etched into hard flesh that has consumed my imagination for weeks. I can’t take it anymore and find his eyes, my anger slipping into something way more dangerous. In a lifetime of deprivation, I’ve never craved anything as much as this person before me.
“So excuse me if I refuse to sit here and let you tell me that Kaleb Novelli is anything but amazing, because that’s all I see.”
Violent lips consume mine, melting me with an addictive ache. I cling to him, desperate to make him understand what he means to me and why he can’t be less to himself. His mouth drags me in, shoves us toward the impossible. I want everything and believe it for a moment as perfectly imperfect hands reach into my hair. My own fingers blister from their trail over dense muscle, exploding my imagination that’s now surpassed by reality. I never want to stop touching him. He’s beauty. He’s perfection. And then he’s gone.
The ache of our separation settles deep within me when he pulls away, and I grip the waist of his uniform in protest.
“That’s a great story,” he says softly.
“Thanks. You wrote it.”
We exchange a look, still holding each other, and I wish we could stand here forever. Connected, happy, isolated from pain. My veins still scream from his touch, but this fantasy is over. It’s the kind of mistake you don’t regret.
“I believe this belongs to you.” I say, retrieving the pieces of his uniform I ripped from his hands.
“Gotta say, I’ve never had my clothing so forcefully confiscated by a woman before.”
“I had to get your attention.”
“Oh, you got it.”
I do nothing to hide my appraisal. “I don’t regret it.”
He smirks and adjusts the military ID around his neck before going for his jacket.
“What are the tattoos?”
He follows my gaze. “One is for my enlistment. Another is my battalion.” He holds out his left arm. “These are for my first tour. And these are my second.” He quiets and secures his jacket. “I never got one for my third.”
I swallow, unable to respond.
“I guess I have enough reminders of that one.” His joke crashes, and I take his hand. I want to kiss away pain I don’t understand and memories I don’t share, but we’re back on script. He focuses on the closed door. “That was… We should get to work.”
I follow his gaze and let go. “Right. I’m way behind on my filing.”
“And I’m sure I have an RP-38C number by now so I can request my TA and start preparing for the rash of RP-7s.”
“Do you have any idea how disturbing it is that I understood what you just said?”
“You’ll be even more disturbed when you stop seeing towels as tools for drying, but as TP-1s or 2s.”
I snicker. “You know Vi thinks we could put an end to the war with our diplomacy.”
He raises a brow. “Does she now?”
“Yup. And you should be honored, because she hated you before last night.”
Geez, I’m so addicted to his laugh.
“Yeah, she told me.”
“She did?”
“I guess you never have to wonder where you stand with that woman.”
“No. Although she kind of compared you to a fairy godmother.”
His eyes narrow. “But a badass fairy, right?”
How is the entire universe not in love with him?
He points toward the filing cabinets, and I can feel his grin as I find my files.
It’s there, on his desk the following morning. Carelessly tucked under a pile of folders when he takes a bathroom break and I search for the stack of kitchen inventories. The crisp white corner of the page looked so innocent, then bam, the reason he seemed weak this morning. The reason there’s been no empty coffee cups or wrappers in his waste bin. My own stomach cramps, slicing through every barrier holding back my tears. Worst part? I can’t confront him. I wasn’t supposed to see this, and honestly, wish I hadn’t. I close my eyes. Even blind, I see the small bold letters screaming above an official seal.
For willfully failing to enforce residential conduct code 17.42a.iii-3a, Lance Corporal Novelli shall forfeit rations lasting no less than seven days.