“Do you … keep up with your parents at all?”

That’s a hell no!

“Last time I saw the old bastard was at my graduation from boot camp.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding surprised, “that was … nice of him.”

I stared at her incredulously. I thought she knew what a mean shit my dad was.

“Are you fucking kidding me? He only did it because he knew it would piss me off to have to salute him.”

“Oh, right,” she said, frowning. What about Estelle?”

I shrugged. “She’s still in San Diego. Ches sees her around now and again. He banned her from the country club—drinking. They got divorced a few years back. Dad shacked up with some stripper. I don’t really know. What about your mom? Do you see her?”

She shook her head. “No, we’re not in touch. I know she’s living in a retirement village in Florida, but that’s all.”

I didn’t know anything about Caro’s mom—she’d never visited when her dad came to San Diego, so I hadn’t met her.

“Why aren’t you in touch? She couldn’t have been as bad as my mom.”

“Don’t be too sure about that,” Caro grimaced.

“What did she do?”

“She didn’t do anything, Sebastian. That’s the point. When I … when I left David, she told me I’d made my bed so now I could lie in it. She didn’t want anything to do with me. Wouldn’t lend me a red cent to help out when I went to New York. She wouldn’t even send me any photographs of Papa. I only have a couple of old pictures of him…”

Her words trailed off, and I automatically went to pull her in for a hug, but she resisted me without even being aware of it. I shoved my hands in my pockets so I wouldn’t be tempted to touch her again. It was fucking choking me

“Do you see anything of him … David?” I grit out the name of her ex-husband, managing not to spit on the street as I said it.

“No. We had to correspond over the divorce papers, but that’s all. I believe he stayed in the Navy. You said you tried to see him … when was that?”

Really didn’t want to talk about it. I sighed, looking up at her expectant face.

“About four months after you left. It was killing me not knowing how you were, or where you were, or how to get in touch with you. Dad had already trashed my computer and deleted all my email accounts before I went to live with Mitch and Shirley. I didn’t even think the bastard knew how to do that stuff. Took my cell off me and smashed that, as well. Anyway, I was getting pretty desperate, so I went to your old house—but it was a waste of time. The asshole yelled at me that I’d ruined his marriage; I told him he didn’t deserve you and was a bastard for the way he’d treated you. He threatened to call the police. That was it.”

She looked so sad, that my ever-present anger began to boil over.

“You don’t feel sorry for him do you, Caro?” I snapped.

“A little. He just married the wrong woman, but he wasn’t a bad man.” The hell he wasn’t! “But you didn’t ruin my marriage: David and I managed to do that all by ourselves. You … freed me.”

It took a second for her words to sink in. She thought I’d freed her? Thank God.

“Please let me hold you, Caro,” I begged. “It’s driving me crazy that you won’t let me touch you.”

I reached out again, but she stepped away from me. Again.

“Just … just give me some time, Sebastian. I don’t deal with rejection well.”

Her words stunned me. “Is that how you see it? That I rejected you.”

She stared at me disbelievingly. “Of course. There’s no other way to see it.”

I ran my hands over my hair in frustration. Why couldn’t she see how wrong she was? That my anger came from fear—fear that she’d realize I wasn’t worth the effort, and leave me for a second time, a final time.

“Fuck, Caro! Last night was about my shit, not about you. Don’t you see that?”

“No, I don’t.” she said, shaking her head. “Not really. But I don’t want to go over that again. I’m trying to put it behind us … I just need time.”

“Okay,” I sighed. But it wasn’t okay. It really wasn’t.

“Do you want to go find somewhere to eat?” she asked, making an effort to lighten the mood, I guess.

“Yeah, I was hoping you’d say that. Do you feel like Italian?”

She raised her eyebrows, a small smile hovering on her lips.

“Oh, very funny. You should be on ‘Saturday Night Live’.”

We wandered through the crowded streets, checking out some of the cafés and ristorantes.

“What about that place over there because…?” she started to ask.

Suddenly, she lost her balance and I had to catch her arm.

“My camera!” she screamed, pointing at the thief who’d grabbed her and pushed her over.

Not on my fucking watch!

I sprinted after the douchebag asshole, tackling him to the ground and landing several good punches, one of which broke his nose with a satisfying snap. Blood leaked onto his t-shirt, and I was just about to express more of my extreme fucking displeasure, when Caro ran up behind me.

“Sebastian, no!” she gasped.

I uncurled my fists, shaking them out, then stood up, handing the camera back to her. I realized that a crowd was beginning to form, pointing and yelling. I really didn’t want a run in with the local Polizia.

“We’d better get out of here.”

“What about the police?” Caro whispered, her eyes glued to the thief and the blood pooling on his chest.

“Fuck them!”

I grabbed her hand, dragging her through the ring of onlookers who were watching the show. There were a few angry voices aimed at our backs, but no one tried to stop us.

Caro was pale and shaky. I would have thought a foreign correspondent wouldn’t get faint at the sight of blood. Maybe she was just hungry? Or maybe she was pissed that I’d made a mess of that fucker’s face? I never knew what she was thinking anymore. The thought made my gut clench.

I dragged her down a side-alley, and a moment later, we emerged into a wide piazza.

“Are you okay, Caro?”

“I’m fine,” she said weakly, looking away from me.

“Come on,” I ordered. “You should eat something.”

She nodded, and didn’t argue when I led us into a small restaurant pulling out a stool at the bar for her.

“Thank you for saving my camera,” she said quietly.

I was relieved—understatement. “I was waiting for you to chew me out for hitting that guy.”

“Well, I’m glad you stopped punching him when you did, obviously, but I’m very fond of my camera. I worked hard to afford to buy it. Thank you, Sebastian.”

I smiled, shaking my head in amusement. “You never cease to amaze me, Caro.”

Then she reached over and took my hand. “How are your knuckles?”

I chuckled quietly. “Much better now,” I said, running my thumb over the back of her hand.

The waitress sauntered over to take our order and was pretty damn obvious about checking me out while she did it. Better still, it was making Caro pissed, so at least I knew she still wanted me.

“Not my type,” I whispered, jerking my chin in the waitress’ direction.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Caro whispered back. “She’s not mine, either.”

I nearly fell off my stool, my imagination going straight to the gutter.

“Not interested in three-ways?” I croaked.

“I don’t know,” she replied, casually. “Do you have friends in the Marines who are as cute as you?”

No fucking way!

“No. I don’t.”

She laughed, and I’d have done anything to see that happiness on her face again. Although there was no way I’d let her near any of the grunts I used to hang with.

“Tell me about being a Marine,” she said. “What do you like about it? What don’t you like about it?”

“Are you interviewing me, Caro, or is this off the record?” I smirked at her.

“Off the record—for now,” she said.

I decided to answer her question seriously. I hadn’t had a choice about joining the Marines, but I’d been so desperate to leave home, I didn’t care either.