Page 31 of The Wounded Warrior

So he sent a selfie with the caption,

Starving to death.

Let me feed you

came the gratifyingly quick response.>

He nodded, then realized he was texting, not talking in person.

Okay

he sent back.

When? Do I need to get Matt to drop me off?

If he can, 12. If he can’t, 1230 & I’ll bethere.

Let me ask.

His cheeks flamed, having to ask his brother to drive him to town for a lunch date, but he wanted this badly enough to do it. “Matt? Matt, where you at?”

“Doing taxes.”

Oh, ew. “You up for a break? I need a ride into town.”

“Yeah? You gonna go mack on McConnell?”

“I am.” He squared his jaw. Might as well hang for a sheep as a lamb.

“Huh. Sure. Why not? I need to run down to the feed store and the Walmart.”

“Thanks, Matty. I can spy for you.” He winked broadly, hoping the joke didn’t fall flat.

“Rock on. Don’t let anyone serve him bad beer.”

“I’ll watch like a hawk.” He wasn’t sure what had really happened with Rory the night of the fundraiser, but he didn’t seem like the type to get shitfaced and hit on someone. There had to be more to the story than food poisoning. And he had to admit, it was easier to believe after that shit with Harris and the shooting.

Jesus. Shooting. Letting their horses out. What a mess.

“Good deal. Something tells me he needs it.” Matty stood, then stretched hard.

“Listen to you, cracking and popping like an old man,” he teased, and Matt nodded.

“You know it, Lulu. I’m getting older every day.”

Luke spread his hands, indicating his wheelchair and current broken state. “I win.”

“I don’t know…” He glanced up to Matt, who shrugged and went on, “Looks to me like you’re getting younger, man.”

“Yeah. Well. Shut up.” So clever. Luke rolled his eyes.

“Uh-huh. Let me put on a decent shirt.” Matty looked him over. “You might oughta do the same.”

Luke glanced down at his chest. Horse goo. Lovely. “Right. I’ll meet you here at a quarter to?”

“Works for me.”

He texted Rory with a

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