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off to California. She had gotten what she called the opportunity of a lifetime at some prominent publishing house. We were so proud of her. She was just two years out of college.” Brianne stared at the photo of a young Erika, clad in daisy dukes and a tank top, standing next to her Jeep with a small compact U-Haul cabin behind it. She had a face-splitting grin that had Blake wondering if Erika ever grinned like that again.
                  Brianne sighed. “She always followed her heart. Most of these books are hers. She loves to read. Can’t pull her away long enough from one to get a full sentence out of her. Or at least you couldn’t before…”
                  At the trailing of her words, Blake placed his hand on her shoulder. “I know the feeling.”
                  Brianne knew he had lost someone too. Blake’s mother often said how he would brood over the loss in his brother’s old truck, the same one now parked in her driveway.
                  “We should get going. It will be dark soon.” Erika descended the stairs in sneakers, simple jeans, and oversized t-shirt with her hair pulled back. She swam in the shirt, Blake thought, yet it let his imagination wonder just what was under it.
                  “Why don’t you stay for dinner, Blake? You two can get the Jeep tomorrow. I’ve made lasagna anyway.”
                  Blake grinned slightly and pinned Erika with his eyes. “I do like Italian,” he said.
                  Erika could get through one dinner. And it would be on her territory. Then as soon as they were done, she could make sure he left, cutting the evening short. Erika narrowed her eyes at Blake. She relaxed before turning to her mother’s gaze which told her to behave herself like only a mother could do. “Okay,” she conceded.
                  “Great. It will be ready in just a few minutes. You two sit. I’ll just go check on it.” Brianne hurried out of the room. She silently prayed to her husband. “Oh, Hank, help them find their way.”
                  Blake relaxed into the middle of the couch. He picked up the sweet tea with the same hand that had reached out to Erika that morning. Because there was nowhere else to sit—she still couldn’t bring herself to sit in her dad’s old chair—she made herself as small as possible and clung to the corner of the couch. She didn’t reach for her glass, though her mouth was still dry. If she did, she would have had to reach over Blake and that was not going to happen.
                  “Thirsty?” he asked. His voice just as low and quiet as it had been when he'd rescued her from the road earlier.
                  Parched, like the damn Sahara . “No.”
                  “Your mom makes some of the best sweet tea around.” He gulped down almost half the glass.
                  “She does.”
                  “I’m sorry.”
                  Erika turned her head to Blake.
                  “For your loss.” He gestured to the flag on the shelves.
                  Erika looked at the flag briefly before turning away. “Thank you,” she whispered. She absently placed a hand over the dog tags that fell above her heart under her shirt.
                  “Was it recent?”
                  “Yes.”
                  Blake nodded. Without thinking he placed his hand over hers.
                  She jolted, then relaxed at the comfort his touch brought. Just as easily, she turned her hand in his and squeezed.
                  “Come on in while it’s hot,” her mother called from another room. Erika jerked her hand from Blake’s. Blake frowned.
                  She grasped at her mother’s call like a lifeline and tried not to think of his sympathy, his touch, or