Page 57 of Caleb
Damn, this girl.
“How old are you again, Miss?”
“Shut up. I’m being serious.”
I sigh. She sighs.
“I know. I think about Yon’s last words all the time too, and you’re right … all I feel is guilt.”
“I know there’s nothing else I can tell you to stop feeling this way because I know how it is. You’ll feel whatever you want to feel. And you know I don’t know much about drinking and stuff, but my first guess is that it won’t do much to help sort your feelings out.”
“You are right again.” Ironically, all I can think about is getting home and pouring myself some vodka. It’s sick. But it’s the only way I can successfully stop feeling like it’s unfair for me to be living my life when Yon’s rotting six feet under. Because of me.
Red saying all these things makes me want to be better. Do better. But I’m weak in that sense, and I’m done trying to make myself believe otherwise. I’m all worn out when it comes to this subject. It’s something I must learn to live with for my entire life. Knowing that as much as I try, I’ll never make peace with Yon’s death.
It will never be okay. And I’m fine with that.
“That’s all I wanted to say.” Her voice is soft and sleepy. “I promise I won’t ever bring it up again. Like never ever.”
“Like you promised last time?” I tease.
“I have no regrets.” She grins.
“I’m sure you don’t.” I shake my head with fake disapproval.
“Jokes aside”—she frowns—“I promise not to bring it up again if you promise to stop drinking like that.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”
“Pretty much.” She tilts her head. “If you smell like alcohol when we go out for our runs, I’ll be allowed to bring up the subject to check in on you.”
As I stare at her in awe, I admit to myself how much I care about this girl. More than I realized. She’s beautiful inside and out, and I know she somehow has managed to care about me, too, along the way.
And I wish I wasn’t her bodyguard. I wish her father weren’t a psycho who wouldn’t think twice before evaporating me into thin air if I dared to get closer to her in any other way.
Calling her a friend is already pushing the limits of what we’re allowed to be. But she’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met before, and seeing her grow into this exquisite human being only makes me want to take a step back.
She’s the forbidden fruit.
Don’t fuck this up.
All I need is to keep doing my job, which I know I can hold down for a long while if I play my cards right.
If I don’t cross any more lines than I already have.
The thought of someday leaving Red makes me shudder. It gives me anxiety. Makes me uneasy. Inevitably, I pretend to argue with Ambassador Murphy inside my head, defending myself from make-believe accusations that are not being thrown at me.
Yet.
In my head, I always win the fight, but I know better. That would never be the case. He would have me thrown out like a dog, and a new shiny agent would replace me before I could even say Red.
The thought of someone else replacing me and following Red around all day makes my insides twist into knots.
“The film was great,” Red says, pulling me out of my head. “Since you asked earlier and I changed the subject.”
We’re crossing through Nanterre, which means we’re twenty-five minutes away from the Residence. But at Scott’s pace, maybe fifteen. And as much as I would love to chat with her all day, she’s sick, and a doctor needs to see her right away. So I’m glad we’re almost there, for a change.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” I smile. “I spotted a bunch of celebrities there last night. I’m sure your father was thrilled to have an excuse to send you back before scheduled. Wouldn’t want a hotshot actor to whisk you away.”
