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.
Life slows over the next few weeks. Vi makes significant gains in her recovery, and I take every opportunity to visit her. Our bond strengthens with each conversation and fit of laughter. As the days pass I grow anxious for her to return to our room where we can be friends instead of visitors.
Kaleb and I fall into a good routine as well. He guides me through the inner monstrosity of compound report-land, and I do my best to focus on being an effective assistant. I’ve always been a quick study, and soon I’m able to complete the more straightforward reports on my own. A utensil RP-7 here and a weekly apartment inventory count there are crowning achievements in our little administrative office bubble. It becomes my personal mission to deserve his faith, to make one small difference in a world that has given up hope.
“I was a vegetarian for three months when I was fourteen,” he blurts one day while I’m finishing up my tally of the cafeteria supplies.
I chuckle at the random announcement. “Really? A whole three months, huh?”
“Sabrina decided we should be vegetarians so what was I supposed to do?”
“Tell her you’re not?”
“Yeah, right. You had to know Sabrina. I was whatever she wanted me to be.”
“So, what happened? Why the sudden change of heart after three full months of dedication?”
He moves to the couch, and I shift to give him room. He smiles when it’s less than he needs. My mistake.
“She started because her mom was one. She stopped for the same reason. They were on a three-month cycle of hating and loving each other.”
“Ah.”
“Anyway, today’s lunch reminded me of that. I agreed to be a vegetarian, but I didn’t want to give up any of the foods I liked so she was always trying to find ways to recreate my meals.”
“Gosh, I hope she was more successful than today’s attempt. Was that supposed to be ravioli?”
He shrugs. “I think so? But no, Sabrina’s meals weren’t any better.”
“I was convinced I was going to be a pop star when I was little.”
“Oh yeah? How did that turn out?”
“Not well since I can’t sing or dance.”
“At least you didn’t want to be a basketball player.”
“Hey!” I swat his arm.
The corner of his mouth lifts, and I can’t help but return it. “Sorry, but I saw you trying to play the other night. It was painful.”
“Shut up. Speaking of that, can I cut out an hour early to visit Vi before dinner? She’s supposed to be allowed out of the infirmary for a few hours today and I want to be there to support her.”
“Sure. Maybe I’ll come with you. I wasn’t able to stop in yesterday so I owe her a visit.”
“Yeah, she made sure I was aware of that when I was there last night.”
“I had a lot on my plate.”
I regret my teasing. “How’s therapy going?”
He grunts. “I’m showing up. That’s all they can make me do.”
“Are they still badgering you for details?”
“Yeah, but we’re not talking about that anymore, remember?”
I sigh. ”No, I know. It’s just—”
“Andie.”
“I want to know, Kaleb. I want to know about your scars.”
And there he goes. More interest in the wall than me. I’m not surprised. He loves that damn wall every time this subject comes up.
“You already know more than you should. There’s no sanitized version.”
His eyes venture to me, but I don’t accept the plea.
“How? You never even talked about it with me. I don’t know anything.”
“Yes I did. Hell, you’ve even seen it.”
I shake my head. “No, not really. Not any of the important parts.”
He looks away, and I sense a rare opening as his mind seems to claim him again. I’m not sure I should let it, but I want to understand him. All of him.
“What exactly do you want to know?” he asks finally.
“Whatever you’re willing to share with me.”
I take his hand and trace his arm. It’s then that I notice new scars I hadn’t seen before. Tiny slivers zigzagging around his wrist. I reach over and grab his other hand, cringing at the same pattern on that side.
“Razor wire restricts your will to struggle against whatever else they’re doing to you. It’s very effective,” he explains quietly.
I bite my lip. I hadn’t realized how much I was protected by hypothesis, mere speculation about something I couldn’t begin to understand. Reality slaps damn hard.
“Razor wire?”
He nods and pulls away, rubbing his face.
“Electrical burns.”
“What?”
“The scars on my chest.”
My head starts to shake on its own, and he seems to forget me as he squints at the wall again.
“At one point they stripped me and wrapped the rest of my body in razor mesh too. They left me like that for two days, beating me every time I seemed able to control the pain. I almost bled to death that time. I think that might have been the worst part. Well, next to my leg anyway.”
His face becomes blurry in the silence. It takes a conscious command to force my eyelids to blink the tears away.
“Is that what you were looking for, Andie? Do you feel better now?”
I grip his hand again. “I want to know everything.”
He looks away. “No, you don’t.”
I force his cheek toward me again, and find fresh agony. Some t
ruths can’t be acknowledged with words. Some require silence, the inhalation of sour air. Futile bracing for what’s next.
“There were days I wanted to die. Of course there were. Most days. But…” He blinks and shakes his head. “I don’t know. I kept living. I kept fighting. By the end, ‘surviving’ was all I had left to make them lose.”
“What about your hand?” I flatten his palm against mine and outline stiff fingers.
“Ah. That one wasn’t as creative. Just your basic mallet and frustrated anger after another unsuccessful day of interrogation.”
I shiver at the thought and kiss his deformed joints.
“If you had to go back, would you lie again or just let them kill you?”
He studies me. “I don’t know. Would you be waiting for me on the other side?”
I smile when he does and accept the end to this conversation. He already gave me more than I thought possible.
“Of course,” I say, returning his light kiss as he pulls me to my feet.
“Good to hear.”
He squeezes my hand before setting us to work.
I release a shriek of surprise when I find Vi waiting in our room after dinner. She grunts as I capture her in what must be the biggest hug she’s ever had to endure.
“You’re back!”
“I am. They decided I was doing well and let me walk all the way here instead of around the track. And look.” She pulls away to rub her head. “I’m keeping the hair.”
I embrace her again. “You’ll have a decent scar.”
“Yeah? Who’s going to mess with me now? I just need a good story.”
I love her confidence. “I know I wouldn’t.”
She drops to her bed. “So what did I miss? Anything good?”
It’s frightening how important Kaleb’s daily greeting has become to me. Seeing his face, his smile, feeling the peace of his presence. I could file all day knowing he’s seated ten feet away at his screen. Today, I’m particularly happy to see him.
“You know there was a rumor going around breakfast this morning that Tad Cullum has been transferred to a different building.”
Kaleb tries to hide his amusement, but the mischievous glint does him no favors.
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