Chapter 4
The old truck’s engine whined as Gabe pushed to go up the hill faster.
“Thank you,” Martin said from the passenger seat. Hugs had been too big to fit so he’d hunkered down in the bed of the truck, just as serious as Martin about the situation.
Martin tapped his fingers against the side of the phone. “Will this be okay for you? I didn’t get to ask you about the PTSD earlier. I thought we could talk about it over dinner.” He shrugged with a pained expression on his face.
“I’m fine.” And he was. Yes, he could hear the rat-a-tat of fire in his head from other times he’d been gunning it down mountain roads, but that was to be expected. Sometimes he could hear imagined echoes of that sound when he was sitting in the fast-food drive-thru line, this wasn’t any worse.
“Was it the
