***
Luke hung up the phone and dropped it on the pillow next to him. The cot creaked with the motion.
He stared listlessly out the dusty window at the gray mountains looming just beyond base.
He needed that glimpse of home that only Harper could give him. Needed the reminder that there was a life waiting for him beyond the dusty, dry heat of the desert — that right now painted red with his friend’s blood.
He reached for his laptop and opened his email.
Luke thought that fixing Harper’s car had been a good going away gift. Harper had him beat. When he opened his email for the first time in Afghanistan, he saw she had sent him close to thirty pictures. Many of them ones he hadn’t known she took. There were shots of the two of them, of the dogs, pictures of his family, and his home. She even included a few of his employees. He opened the files almost every day.
Tonight, he took his time clicking through each one. His favorite was one that the newspaper had uploaded online. The paper had run the picture of Harper and Linc coming out of the water on the front page, but in the photographer’s album of the event, Harper had found a shot of the two of them at the bar. Luke’s arms were wrapped around her from behind, pulling her into his chest. His hand was splayed across her stomach and she was looking over her shoulder at him. They were both laughing.
He loved the expression on her face. Harper’s eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed. Her hair hung in damp waves that framed her face. He could see the excitement between the two of them and felt the corner of his mouth turn up at the fortunate fact that the photographer had failed to capture the raging hard-on he had pressed against her at that exact moment.
It was the night of their first time together. The night he stopped fighting and let go.
He kept the picture open and clicked the next one.
Aldo’s cocky grin filled the screen. Harper must have taken it with her phone. It was the night Aldo and Gloria came for dinner. Aldo was manning the grill and arguing with Luke about something. They were both grinning. Brothers without the blood.
Luke shut the lid of the laptop.
He braced his hands against his knees, fingers digging into the dried blood and mud caked to his fatigues.
He closed his eyes and let the plywood walls of his eight by eight room close in on him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Mrs. Moretta lived in a tidy two-story cottage three blocks over from Luke’s parents. The front porch was partially obscured by colorful pots overflowing with petunias.
A hummingbird feeder hung from a rafter.
Harper blew out the breath she had been holding. Claire reached across the console and patted her hand on the steering wheel.
“You’re a good girl, Harper. Let’s go help a friend.”
They were only halfway up the walk when Mrs. Moretta burst out of the front door. She was wearing a flopping sunhat and one garden glove. Harper could see tears.
Claire hurried up the steps to her friend. “Oh, Ina.”
The two women embraced on the porch. “Thank you so much for being here, Claire. They just called. He’s alive.”
“Thank God for that,” Claire said, holding her tight.
“Harper.” Mrs. Moretta released Claire and nodded in her direction. “Let’s go inside and get a drink.”
They let her lead the way back to a cozy kitchen with a greenhouse window over the sink. Mrs. Moretta paused, staring off into the yard. “He’s in surgery. They think he’s going to lose a leg. But he’s going to live.”
Harper covered her mouth with a hand and closed her eyes. Aldo was alive and that was what mattered. She excused herself for a moment and fired off an email to Luke from her phone.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Alive!
Alive and in surgery. May lose leg, but he’s expected to survive. We’re with Mrs. M now. She’s holding up. I’ll let you know if I learn anything else. I love you.
