Page 5 of Walking Wounded

Hal makes a face. “We were in Abby’s bedroom.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And she took her top off…and I embarrassed myself immediately,” he says, delicately, going red in the face.

Luke loses control of his laughter and it slips out through his teeth like a hiss.

“You already knew that,” Hal accuses, knocking his shoulder into Luke’s.

He’s strong as an ox these days; his shoulder is more massive than Luke’s whole body. Luke stumbles, laughing out loud this time, grabbing at Hal’s arm for balance.

The Frenchwoman ahead of them twists around to shoot them a glare.

“Sorry,” Hal tells her, and rights Luke with a hand on his arm. “You’re in town five minutes,” he says, mock-exasperated, “and you’re already making me look like an idiot.”

“I don’t have to try real hard at that.”

Hal’s hand is still on his arm, and he gives Luke a firm shove, dragging him back again, until they’re almost too close together. “Missed you, man.”

“Yeah.” A lump forms in Luke’s throat, sudden and firm. “Missed you, too.”

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