Luke feels a smaller, lighter hand on his other shoulder. “It’s nobody’s fault,” Sandy says, firm, like she expects them to listen. “It’s Washington fucking DC. It’sfuckedup.”
Will snorts. “There’s that Georgia girl temper.”
“Don’t test me, old man.” She pats Luke’s shoulder and moves away. “You boys look like you could use something hot in your bellies.”
Hal, for once, doesn’t pretend that he’s fine. He sits down heavily on the bench next to Luke and says, “Yeah, that sounds good.”
The smart rap of dress shoes announces someone’s arrival and Diego steps into view. Gone is the easy-going, shorts-clad guy from the gym earlier in the week – damn, has it only been a week since Luke’s life went upside down? – replaced by an intimidating professional bodyguard in a well-cut suit, curly cord of an earpiece visible down the side of his neck.
“You’re late,” he tells Hal.
Hal frowns. “There was some traffic downtown.”
“Mitch says you cleared downtown forty-five minutes ago.”
“He was following us?” Now Hal looks baffled.
Diego nods. “He’s been shadowing you at the hospital.”
“That’s…” Hal sighs. “You guys didn’t need to do that. No sense spreading everyone thin.” Luke reads his expression to be both touched and thankful, fear tucked deep behind his eyes.
Diego’s professional façade slips a moment, warmth shining through. “Breckinridge can spare us for a little while. Matt’s the priority client right now. And besides, we’re not gonna let one of our boys and his better half fend for themselves when there’s psycho-ass bombers running around.”
A warm, pleased smile graces Hal’s face.
Diego glances over at Luke. “How you feelin’, man?”
There’s a lump in his throat, suddenly, touched more than he thought possible by the simple, automatic kindness from Hal’s friends. From his bosses. From these people who don’t even know him at all, but who accept him without a blink.
“Well.” He tries to swallow the lump, fails, and twitches a smile instead. “I’m on the really good pain killers, so…”
Diego grins. “Dude, save some for when you get better.”
“I’m gonna buy ‘em off him,” Will says.
“Oh no you’re not.” Sandy returns to the table with steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Luke can’t remember the last time he had cocoa, but he reaches for the mug readily. “Luke, can you keep down some toast you think, hon?”
“I think so.”
“Coming right up.”
“Hal?”
“No, thanks. I should check in with Lee.”
Luke wants to tell him to eat something, pour some coffee down his throat. But when Hal glances over, checking if he’s okay, he nods. “Go to work, I’m fine.”
Hal squeezes his hand where it rests on the tabletop before he stands.
~*~
The stairs creak and groan as they ascend them. The room Sandy shows him to can be thought of nothing less than charming. Window seat, gauzy white curtains, faded rope rugs, four-poster bed with fluffy white and tan bedding, covers folded back more crisply than any hotel. Two nightstands, lamps that look hand-carved. Someone – Hal – has already brought their bags up, left them lined up on the rug at the foot of the bed.
“Here you go,” Sandy says, and lays her burden of fresh towels, soap, and water bottles down on the hope chest at the foot of the bed. “There’s extra blankets here in the chest, if you’re cold, and an electric blanket even, I think. Remote’s on the nightstand, TV’s over there.” She points it out, mounted on the dresser across from the bed. “We’ve got Netflix, and Amazon, and all that. And of course you’re welcome to whatever’s in the library.” She surveys the room critically, searching for flaws, hands on her hips.
Luke is overwhelmed by her kindness, but because he’s an idiot, and a cynic, he doesn’t say, “Thank you.” No, he says, “You’re letting us room together?”
Her gaze snaps toward him, startled. “Is that a problem?”
