Bloody Sunset by Gwendolyn Harper (inspirational books for students TXT) 📕

In the time it took her to blink, Caitlin wondered if she’d imagined it. The malicious glare didn’t fit in with his otherwise courteous demeanor.

And when she opened her eyes again, Seth was nothing but smiles.

“Sounds like it’s been one upgrade after the other then,” he said. “And speaking of possum… I wonder if that’s the mystery meat in tonight’s stew.”

“Smells like rabbit to me,” Booker said. “But I could be wrong.”

Caitlin wouldn’t bet money on Booker being wrong about game meats.

Pushing himself to his feet, Seth said, “Well, guess I’m hungry enough to find out.”

As he waved to them, Caitlin narrowed her stare on him, watching Seth leave.

“Hey,” Booker murmured, nudging her. “He bother you?”

“Huh?”

“Went rigid there for a second,” he said. “Didn’t know if he said somethin’ or—”

Caitlin shook her head. “No, no, it’s just…” She inhaled deeply. “Nothing.”

To distract herself from the uncertainty, she leaned in and kissed Booker fully.

Brushing the tip of his nose across her cheek, Booker smiled. “Hungry?”

“Mhm hm.”

He chuckled and she felt it in her chest.

“I meant for supper,” he whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth.

“That too.”

With a final taste of her lips, Booker pulled back, standing up.

“I’ll fetch it for ya. Y’just keep that other thing on your mind a while longer.”

Propping her chin on the heel of her hand, she grinned.

That wouldn’t be a problem.

* * * * * * *

In the dark, Caitlin felt him shake.

Blinking, she tried to orient herself. It couldn’t have been later than four in the morning.

The thick arm wrapped tight around her waist twitched, fist grasping at nothing.

Behind her, with his forehead pressed into the crook of her neck, Booker whimpered in his sleep.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly turned in his hold, facing him.

It was a pattern she was becoming familiar with.

“Jack,” she whispered, cupping his stubbled jaw. “Jack, wake up.”

Even in the dim light she could see the deep crease in his forehead, brows furrowed together, and jaw clenched.

Stroking his face gently, she tried to rouse him.

“Jack, wake up,” she repeated. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

“Under fire… Can’t make it to…” He mumbled, barely audible through gritted teeth.

Snaking one arm out to rub his shoulder, Caitlin continued talking to him.

“You’re not there anymore, Jack. You made it home.” She leaned in close, murmuring in his ear. “You’re safe. You’re here with me. Wake up, Booker.”

In his sleep, he jerked, and his grip on her tightened. Her ribs ached from the pressure, but she wasn’t deterred.

“Jack, I need you to wake up,” she said, still holding onto him. “Everything’s okay. You’re not there, you’re—”

With a sharp inhale, Booker’s eyes snapped open.

“Where—where am I? What’s—”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” she assured him, hand gentle on his chest. “You were having a bad dream. You’re okay, you’re safe.”

It took him several moments to catch up, and even longer for the worrisome tension to leave his body. His eyes darted around the dark tent, trying to make sense of what was and what had been.

“Jesus,” Booker breathed as he started to roll away from her.

Caitlin wouldn’t let him go far.

Rubbing soothing loops along his chest, she curled into his side.

“What was I sayin’?”

She bit the inside of her bottom lip, unsure if he really wanted to be reminded.

“I couldn’t hear most of it,” she told him finally. “But you weren’t having a good time, I know that much.”

Grunting deep in his throat, Booker ran his palm over his face.

Just as she was about to ask if he wanted to talk about it, he extricated himself from their tangle of limbs and sat up.

“Gonna go for a walk,” he muttered. “Give patrol a hand.”

“Jack…”

Leaning in, he kissed her, but it felt rote.

“’M alright, songbird,” he said. “Go back to sleep.”

Pulling his boots on, Booker grabbed his shirt and belt and hurried out of the tent.

Caitlin stretched out on their sleeping bag, staring at the blue nylon above her.

He’d lied.

Booker was anything but alright.

Chapter Three

It was a luxury having more than three shirts to choose from when getting dressed in the morning.

Caitlin had gotten used to her two pairs of jeans and two tee shirts while on her own. The addition of more clothing as they’d scavenged across Mississippi and Arkansas had been a delight, especially when she found some khaki and denim shorts in her size. They made the humid summer a little easier to bear.

Now she had enough clothing for two weeks, plus a few zip-up hoodies and a thicker jacket with a faux shearling lining perfect for autumn and early winter.

And of course, the green plaid shirt she’d borrowed from Booker and never gave back.

She’d opted not to stitch up the bullet hole, keeping it as a reminder to always stay sharp.

Plus, as Nicole had told her, it gave her a Sarah Connor vibe and what wasn’t to love about that?

Bent over her duffle bag, Caitlin continued picking through her shirts, trying to decide what would be best for the cooler morning that would burn into a hot midday.

The tent flap behind her shifted and unzipped, but she wasn’t concerned.

Either it was Nicole or Booker, and both of them had seen her in less than the bra and pair of jeans she wore, so her modesty was the last thing to worry about.

Scott had taken to saying ‘knock, knock’ before entering their shared living space, as he was still getting used to being right on top of everyone.

“Well, good mornin’ to me then,” Booker said, grinning as he entered.

Caitlin smirked. “You’re late. I was in just my underwear three minutes ago.”

“Don’t wound me like that, Meadows.”

Deciding