Inseverable: A Carolina Beach Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

still, expecting the grime to once more coat my face with its filth, and the smell of sweat and death to fill my nose.
    Instead, only salty air strokes my beard in a gentle caress. I release a breath, remaining tense and unable to shake the memories that haunt my dreams every night. The squats, the presses, and the pull-ups I do during my grueling daily workouts only temporarily distract me. I need to run along the beach until my thighs burn, my muscles ache, and my brain forgets—everything. Feelings are bullshit. It’s numbness I seek. That, and to escape from everything and everyone.
    I take off in a sprint, desperate to free myself of all thoughts, and eager for exhaustion. Only through exhaustion do I ever manage a few hours of decent sleep. It’s not easy, pushing my body the way that I do. But it beats those meds the army docs kept trying to get me to take—drugs that lock you into the nightmares with no way out.
    Another breeze sweeps in, cooling my sweat-soaked brow as I reach the shore and turn left. It’s early, real early, the sun’s rays just starting to build in intensity. But already a few locals are out.
    An old couple dip their spotted feet into the water, waving to me as I near. I tilt my chin, but not much more. I can’t give much more, and hell, I don’t want to.
    The next group I pass is a cluster of old women speed walking, heads up, arms pumping, their focus tense and straight ahead. They don’t say shit, and neither do I.
    A wave crashes along the beach, strong enough to cover my ankles and drench my shins. I ignore the cold sting it causes and push on. I’m only vaguely aware of the water’s withdrawal, losing sight of where I am, and who’s around me. And I’m glad.
    Maybe I’m lost. But that doesn’t mean I want to be found.
    “Spanky! Is that you?”
    Jesus. H. Christ. No . . . just . . . no.
    I know who’s there even before my stare cuts left. The brunette, the little one from the other night abandons the buoy ropes she’s untangling and waves, a big grin lighting up her small face.
    I jerk my chin ahead and away from her, spitting every swear word I know through my teeth. My fists clench tight as that now familiar, annoying―hell, did I mention annoying?―voice appears way too close in behind me.
    “It is you!” she drawls.
    I try to run faster, but I already ran a mile, and worked out close to two hours. So when the small graceful steps grow louder, and Cheerleader Skipper bounces to my side, it’s all I can do not to fall to the sand and beg God to take me.
    “Wow, you’re fast. I almost didn’t think I’d catch you.”
    She only sounds mildly out of breath which means she keeps talking.
    Fuck. Me.
    “I love running on the beach. Don’t you, Spanky? It’s like exhilarating and fun all at the same time—”
    “Do not call me Spanky.”
    “Iron Man?”
    “No!”
    “Batman?”
    I turn enough just to glare at her. “ Batman ?”
    She shrugs and continues to run like she’s prancing through a field of daisies, pointy toes and all. “You know,” she says. “Because you’re all broody and your voice is really deep―like Batman.” She beams up at me. “Take it as a compliment. Batman’s all sorts of hot.”
    “There’s something wrong with you,” I tell her truthfully.
    I continue to run. And so does she. For a tiny thing she’s freakishly athletic. She’s also fairly quiet which is more than shocking.
    As I start to get winded, I notice her face is only mildly flushed. I make the mistake of sweeping my gaze along her form. She’s wearing a black sports bra, and shorts that are more like panties than pants. Her hair is pulled back in ponytail revealing a round face and bright brown eyes.
    A small spray of freckles pepper her nose and cheeks, and although it’s still only May, her skin has begun to tan. The girl is a stick and would probably shatter if she tripped. Yet despite her puny frame, there’s definition to her arms, legs, and flat stomach.
    My