Page 32 of The Wounded Warrior

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then rolled into his bedroom. Luke whacked his elbow on the doorframe, then closed his eyes and counted to ten. Now was not the time to get his panties in a wad.

Now he needed to pick a shirt that would make Rory forget about his legs.

Luke stared at his choices. Huh. The green button-down was clean, at least. Maybe he needed to go shopping.

“Matty? Can I borrow your gray button-down? The ones with the pearl snaps?”

“Are you cowboying up or what? I think it’s been to the cleaners. Gimme a sec.”

That was the point. The gray would be pressed and not smell like… Dog? Something.

“Got it. You need me to pick some shirts up at the Wallyworld?”

“Yeah. Something dressy enough I can stop borrowing yours.”

“Man gets a lunch date, and he’s suddenly all worried about elegance.”

“I will beat you down, asshat.”

“Duly noted.” Matt handed the shirt over, along with a pressed pair of jeans. “We’re of a size.”

“Thanks.”

“One of us needs to get him some.”

Luke chuckled. “I figured it would be you. With your legs all intact and all.”

“Highly fucking unlikely.”

Now Luke studied his brother more closely. “Why? Imean, I know this is East BumFuck, but you could go to Dallas…”

“Get dressed, Luke.”

Wait. Wait, there was a lot of pain there, and that didn’t work for him. “Matty? Did something… I mean, was somebody mean to you?”

“Get dressed, little brother, or we’ll be late.”

He stared, but Matt wasn’t playing chicken. He just turned and left the room.

So not fair doing that when Luke was about to leave.

At least he lived here, right? He had all the time in the world to work it out of Matt. They were twins. Matt never could keep shit from him.

Now that he’d found the crack, he was going to dig.

Luke dressed, the jeans a challenge, but he managed it. He tugged on one boot, his other foot still too swollen to fit. Still, it was better. It was getting better.

He slicked his hair back and even threw on a little Old Spice. Their momma gave them each a bottle every Christmas. He had Old Spice from 1999 when she began to give him smell good as gifts. His sixteen-year-old self had used it like kids used Axe body spray nowadays.

“You look good, Lulu. Come on.” Matt didn’t sound a bit ironic.

“Thanks, bro.” He grinned a bit, willing to actually believe it. “I smell like Christmas.”

“You do. I always think Old Spice smells like winter.”

Luke nodded. “Wood smoke and cinnamon. Preacher insists on a fire. Remember that Christmas it was almost eighty? Freaky day.”

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