“You’ve told me that before. So let’s not date.” He took a step closer to me, pulled me in again, his shirt all the way unbuttoned because of my lust. “We will remain friends who hang out together.”

“Marco, I’m standing in front of you half naked. That does not seem to indicate we can remain friends. Plus, I’m a mess. You don’t want to date me.”

“I like messes.”

“I have problems, issues. Premonitions that freak me out.”

“I have problems and issues. I do not have premonitions. I do have nightmares and scary flashbacks that take me straight back to Iraq and battles and blood and fighting and people dying and screaming. So if you are a mess who wants a mess, I’m the mess.”

“I’m sorry, Marco. I truly am, but I can’t. I can’t do relationships. I can’t have relationships. It doesn’t work. They don’t work for people who are wrecks.”

“We can be wrecks together.” His voice was low and deep, persuasive.

“No, I can’t.” My voice cracked, pain filling me from head to foot.

He sighed, pulled me in for a hug, his head resting on mine.

“Evie. Can we not try? Take it slow? Take it easy?”

I shook my head. I wanted to cry. Cry because I was rejecting Marco. I love Marco. I always will. “No, I’m sorry.” And I turned, and I stumbled away, tears smearing my vision.

“Evie . . .”

I started jogging back to the clinic. It was when I was jogging, my boobs bouncing, that I realized I did not have my red lace bra or my red ruffled shirt. This was unfortunate, but I was not going to run back for them. I grabbed the cats out of the clinic, two in each hand as they meowed about the indignities of it, and put them in the truck.

I looked back at him when I was in my truck, trembling, wanting him so bad, at the same time wanting to have a meltdown. I had one cat on my shoulder, one in my lap, and two in the passenger seat. They had their paws on the window staring back at Marco as if they missed him already and their hearts were breaking, like mine.

I am doing this for your own good, Marco, so you will live.

* * *

On my way home, three minutes after I left Marco’s, I saw the police lights, red and blue and flashing, behind me. A second later the siren pierced through the night. Chief Ass Burn was behind me. He must have been waiting for me, right by Marco’s house. My stomach started to churn. How sick is that? I have a police chief stalking me.

I said a very bad word. Then another one. I wiped the hot tears off my face and told myself to buck up.