Page 80 of Walking Wounded

“Don’t touch the lady,” Hal says, voice a growl. “Not unless she wants you to.”

“I don’t want him to!” Tara assures, arms folded, hips cocked at a don’t-fuck-with-me angle.

“Hey!” Dex protests. “I didn’t do nothing!”

Hal shoves him. Thoughshovemight be too gentle a word, because Dex trips and goes sprawling across the hard wooden floor, face smacking the floorboards.

Tara sidles up to Luke, clutches his arm, openly crying.

“Come on,” Luke says with a sigh. “Let’s get out of here.”

Hal clears a path and they make their way through the club, pick up their coats, and step out onto the street, breath pluming in the frigid air. The cold hits Luke like a slap, sobers him up on impact. He reels, presses a hand to the rough brick wall for balance, and tries to make sense of the sudden change in Tara.

She stands in the middle of the alley, arms wrapped tight around herself, dyed hair shielding her face as great, gasping sobs rattle her frame.

“Here.” Hal, impossible gentleman that he is, shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over her shoulders. “Let’s get in out of the cold, okay?” He shoots an almost-desperate glance toward Luke for help.

“There’s a decent coffee shop a couple blocks down,” Luke says. “Back where we left the Jeep.”

Hal nods, and, task decided, loops what can only be called a brotherly arm around Tara’s shaking shoulders, steering her out of the alley.

Luke watches, crestfallen, until Hal snags his sleeve with his free hand and tugs him along too.

They walk three-abreast, taking up the entire sidewalk. Luke ducks back when they meet other pedestrians, ignoring their indignant glances. There’s a part of him that’s glad to be out of the club, back in the world of Normal Volumes. And a part of him that wants to march back and hit Dex (what a stupid-ass name, honestly) with his own headphones. But the largest part of him is both angry and devastated that his moment – whatever it was – with Hal came to such an abrupt end.

Possibly for the best, since blurring the lines of the friendship had only ever ended in heartache for Luke. But still.

The Grind appears amidst the line of closed shops like a warm beacon, drawing them in. Hal holds the door and Luke takes over Tara duty, steering her inside the warm, fragrant shop and finding them a table in the corner with comfy armchairs and a semblance of privacy. In the light, he can see that she’s cried most of her eyeliner off and that it’s run down her face. She looks young, younger even than her years, vulnerable and lost.

“I’ll get us something,” Hal says, hand landing briefly on Luke’s shoulder.

“And napkins. A lot of napkins.”

Tara shoots him a glare.

“Right,” Hal says, and heads up to the counter.

When Luke turns back to Tara, he isn’t expecting her to say, “I hate you both,” in a rough, tear-ravaged voice.

He shrugs. “Getting you out of there, buying you coffee. I know, what assholes, right?”

“Ugh.” She tips her head against the chair back. “You idiots. Pining all the damn time,platonically grindingor whatever the hell, and you can’t even admit you’re, like, practically married already. Yeah, assholes.”

There’s not a line, so Hal returns then, balancing a tray of three coffees and a ridiculous amount of napkins.

Tara takes the napkins and uses the entire stack to mop at her mascara-streaked face.

Luke takes a sip of his latte, which is perfect, just the way he always orders it for himself, watches Hal stare worriedly at Tara and thinks aboutpractically married. Because he’s a moron who can’t help but throw himself back into painful situations in which he stands no chance of success.

“What happened?” Hal asks Tara. “It looked like you really liked that guy and then…”

“I’m an idiot,” she groans. “Ididlike him. But I…kinda knew he didn’t like me all that much.”

Hal makes a soothing noise.

Luke says, “You thought you could change him.”

She glares up at the ceiling. “No. No, I…” A deep, tired sigh. “Okay, yeah, I thought he’d come around.” She tosses the napkins onto the table. “I knew he was a player, okay? I knew he was older, and he’d done tons of stuff with tons of girls, probably, and I was just this senator’s kid, and…” She tucks her black hair behind her ears, and she doesn’t seem the confident young woman Luke met on the deck; she’s just a kid, and probably a virgin, sad and defeated and realizing how terrible it is to lose your naiveté.

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