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even more when he unbuckled his pants. He took off the rest of his clothes, and I let my eyes explore. He was covered in battle scars—some from fighting, others his father put there—way too many scars for his eighteen years.
    He seemed so at ease, so confident, not a stitch of nerves showing. I tried to always be strong like him, untouchable by outside forces, but he single-handedly disarmed me.
    “Have you … ?” My voice sounded magnified in the quiet bedroom. “Have you done this before?”
    He paused again. Another ten seconds. It felt like ten years as he stared down at me, his smile suddenly gone. After those seconds pass, he seemed to find the words to speak. “You think I’d do this with somebody else, Gracie?”
    Stupid question, because no, he wouldn’t. We never had the kind of talk other people do, the kind of talks I heard the girls at school whispering about. It had just always been us, in a way. Just me and Cody. My best friend. My soul mate.
    “I love you, Grace Elizabeth Callaghan,” he said, his voice a serious whisper, like he was spilling a deadly secret that was far too big for the world to hear. “Nobody else. Nobody . Nobody else gets me. Nobody else can have me. I’m yours, as long as you want me, if you want me. Fuck knows, I don’t know why you would , but if you do …”
    I did.
    I didn’t say it, though.
    It sounded like a silly declaration, the kind that words could never do justice. Instead, I pulled him back down to me, kissing him. He settled between my thighs, and my breath hitched when I feel him press against me.
    “I’ll try to be careful,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
    Slowly, he pushed in. I wouldn’t have called it comfortable, but it wasn’t painful. It was pressure, accompanied by a slight ache when he started to move. My muscles eased after a moment, my body relaxing as I started to adjust to the strange sensation of him being inside of me. I wrapped my arms around him as he covered my body with his own, sliding in and out, finding his rhythm. His lips found mine, never leaving, swallowing every moan and cry, every hitch of breath, knowing they were intended for him and him alone.
    It was over too soon.
    He stilled on top of me, breathing heavily. His forehead was pressed against mine. I opened my eyes, seeing his were closed, a relaxed expression on his face. A smile touched his lips again, natural and graceful. I didn’t even know if he realized he was smiling.
    I may not have seen any stars that night, but this couldn’t really be Hell, I thought … not when I looked at him and swore I could see Heaven.
    ***
    Witness Protection, or WITSEC, is nothing like the movies make it out to be. Like most people, my impression of it came from Hollywood storylines, but reality slapped me in the face the second I involuntarily joined.
    There is no glitz, no exotic locales, no sitting on beaches sipping fruity drinks with tiny umbrellas as a generous gift of gratitude from the government for giving up your life. They legalized my new name with all of the proper documents, and shell out barely enough money every month to cover the bills for this rundown house, but other than that, I’m on my own. It’s Holden’s job to make sure I’m happy—I know, because he’s told me that more than once. It’s how I acquired the twenty-year-old broken down Chevy in the first place: the government’s idea of going ‘above and beyond’.
    When I wake up the next morning, the first day of December, the air is still muggy. I’m sweating like a pig, my skin clammy and face flushed. I’m fucking miserable as I climb out of bed, not bothering to change clothes or even get dressed for the day.
    It’s not like I have any plans, anyway.
    I roll up my shorts along the waistband, jacking them up even shorter, and bunch my tank top up in the front, tucking it into my bra to get it off my stomach. I don’t give a shit how I look, nor do I care if it’s inappropriate with