“You will?”
“Yep.”
“I’ll take you up on that, darling boy of my heart.”
On Tuesday morning, Sebastian came face to face with a ghost from his past.
He was passing the gas station on the way to Ingles to get groceries when he recognized a blue 1974 Chevy C-10 truck at one of the pumps.
Sebastian U-turned. The C-10 was a beast. A tough-guy’s truck. He parked, walked up to the vehicle, and found it empty. Bracinghimself, he pushed his hands into his jeans and waited beneath the cold gray sky.
As expected, Luke Dempsey exited the station’s door. When he saw Sebastian, his expression tightened. Luke came to a halt, facing Sebastian across two yards of space and two miles of memories.
A powerful sense of déjà vu jerked Sebastian back in time to the earthquake. It had been dim then, too.
The collapsing corridors in that basement hadn’t stopped Luke from trying to run back in the direction they’d come.
Sebastian had lunged forward and grabbed his arm.
“Let me go!” Luke yelled at him. “I have to get my brother.”
“You’ll be crushed.” Luke was one year older, but Sebastian was equally as tall and strong.
Luke wrenched free. But just as he tried to enter the hallway, concrete filled it, blocking it completely.
“No!” Luke had screamed.
All these years later, Luke wore a black motorcycle jacket over a black hoodie and battered jeans. His brown hair was longer than Sebastian had ever seen it—as if he’d had a short haircut nine months ago and hadn’t bothered to trim it since. His five-o’clock shadow was so thick, it had turned into a short beard.
He looked like what he’d become: a man you wouldn’t want to cross. Dangerous.
Even so, Sebastian could see the boy he’d been in the long, aristocratic nose. The sharp, deep-set hazel eyes. The inflexible chin.
They were the same height, though Luke was leaner.
The summer they’d gone on that doomed mission trip, Luke had been the most well-liked, athletic kid in the eighth grade. He’d had every advantage Sebastian had not. A family, a home, upper middle-class money.
Luke’s life had been heading in an upward direction, and Sebastian’s life had been headed down. By the time they left that wrecked building after eight days buried alive together, their trains had jumped tracks. Sebastian’s track had gone up. Luke’s had gone down.
Luke should’ve been a doctor. Sebastian should’ve been a felon.
He couldn’t call Luke a friend, and yet he was more bonded to this man than he was to any of his colleagues or acquaintances.
“How long have you been back?” Sebastian asked.
“A day.”
“Why’d you return?”
“None of your business.”
“I’d like to know.”
Luke regarded Sebastian with impatience. “I have a job lined up in January.”
“What job?”
“A job with an animal rescue charity.”
