Page 4 of Secrets in a Sandstorm

He pulls something out with a satisfied grunt, then there’s a snap, and he’s bathed in a green glow. “This will give us about six hours.” He walks over and wedges the glow stick into the rock near the crack. “When the storm blows itself out and dawn comes, there’ll be daylight to guide us.”

“Yeah.” Of course. Assuming we aren’t buried alive in here.

He puts his hand on my shoulder. “That was the least convincing, yeah, I’ve ever heard. The storm will pass, and we’ll be back on the road tomorrow.” He presses another stick into my hand. “I suggest you hang it around your neck.”

I do as suggested because if we’re glowing, it’s going to be harder to lose each other.

He snaps and shakes another and follows his own advice. His face is lit up in a lurid green glow. The angle of it makes him appear sinister, with sharp cheekbones and hollow dark eyes.

I must appear the same to him. A creepy apparition, lurking in the cave.

He runs his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. “I wish we had a bottle of something to drink.”

“And a deck of cards,” I quip.

“Strip poker?” He grins, looking like a maniac. He’s always been the life of every party.

Jay was my brother, but it was Harrison who I admired. He had his dreams, and he followed them. And he encouraged me to follow mine. In high school, when they were talking about joining the army, I claimed that was what I wanted to do also. While Harrison saw through my need to belong, Jay accused me of copying. For a couple of years, things had been rough between Jay and me. He and Harrison had been adults, and I’d still been a kid.

That space is what I needed to figure out what I wanted to do and to go after it.

I groan. “The winner would be the first one naked and shaking the sand out of their clothes.”

He laughs. “Sounds like everyone wins!”

I join in with his laughter because it feels good, and I realize that some of the fear has left me. “Let’s crack open the emergency rations.”

But I’m still thinking about Harrison naked. I’ve seen him almost naked plenty of times and never thought anything of it—aside from noticing when he started getting ripped—including this morning after he’d showered. Though rinsing off with a bucket of water is a pretty shit shower, it’s all that we have in the desert. He stood in the dawn sun wearing only his boxer briefs, his dark hair dripping onto his shoulders, and the water running over the muscles on his chest and abs, carved from years of training. And I wanted to run my hand over him…

Now, he’s just as sweaty and sandy as I am, but I want to know what he looks like wearing only the glow stick.

CHAPTER THREE

PRESENT DAY

MAX

The meal is cold, but it’s good enough. I’m glad Harrison insisted on over-packing food and water in case the bikes broke down. A sandstorm was supposed to be a remote possibility.

We sit next to each other, the rock wall at our backs, eating by the soft green glow hanging around our necks. Our gear is sitting under the glow stick at the entrance, so it’s easy to find. Harrison is organized when it comes to this stuff, and he doesn’t seem bothered by the situation.

“What would Jay be doing if he was here?” He asks, breaking the silence first.

“He’d already be exploring. He’d have done that before setting up any kind of camp.” Jay was always looking for the next adventure. “Getting the lay of the land, he’d call it.”

Harrison takes a swig of water, and I watch him swallow. He lifts an eyebrow and offers me the bottle. “Bludging, so he doesn’t have to set up.”

Jay always made sure he appeared busy, like he was working hard. I was about fourteen when I realized he wasreally good at doing nothing. I think he let me tag along with whatever they were doing so they could order me around. I never said no because I didn’t want to be left out.

Harrison is all laughter, but he always made sure everyone was sorted. Jay appeared more serious, but he was always chasing the next thing. My parents called him ambitious and driven, and I could never quite live up to the reputation he’d crafted. For a time, I resented him and his friendship with Harrison.

“You miss him,” I say. I should miss him more. But once he left for the army, all I felt was relief that he was no longer blocking the sun.

“Every day. He was the brother I never had. You too.” He smiles, and it’s meant to be friendly, but in the green glow with the storm as background music, it appears menacing.

I lick my lip, needing to know, and this may be my only chance. “You never dated him?”

Harrison freezes for a split second, like he needs to find the words to lie. Another person may not have noticed, but I can read him too well. He shakes his head. “Nah. He wasn’t into that.”

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