Chapter 25: Bad Memories of His Own
They made their way back to the house where the aroma of chicken piccata still hung in the air. It was only 8:15, too early for bed. Cole thought about suggesting they watch television, although as far as he was concerned, there was rarely anything on worth watching.
Jenny scribbled something on her board and tapped his arm. Can I ask you something? Her gaze was serious.
His heart skipped a beat. Shit. Would she ask why he hadnt kissed her in the barn? Warily, he nodded. Sure.
She took his hand and pulled him into the downstairs hallway, stopping before his official Marines portrait. She pointed to it, then to the photo of him and his buddies in Afghanistan. Will you tell me about this? she scribbled.