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Purple Hearts(47)

Author:Tess Wakefield

“Nah,” she said, and gave me a small smile, freeing herself to put away her bass. My heart sank. I could feel judgment coming off her like heat. Maybe I wasn’t spending enough time with her. Maybe she was feeling left out. It used to be Nora and me escaping from practice.

“Cassita!” Toby called, pulling out the keys to his pickup.

“Just a sec,” I said.

“K, I’m going to get the truck and bring it around,” he said, and jogged up the stairs. He paused at the top, and ran back down. He extended his face toward mine. I gave him a kiss, my face burning under Nora’s eyes. “There,” he said, and ran back up.

“Sorry,” I said to her. “He’s cute but he’s a bit much.”

She nodded toward where Toby had disappeared from. “So you guys are, like, dating seriously now? Like, going to public parks and holding hands and making out?”

I felt a smile creep over my face. Other than rehearsal and Luke’s occasional funny quips, seeing Toby was what I looked forward to all week. “Yeah.”

“Huh,” Nora said, her face puzzled. Then she was silent. She took out her ponytail, letting her curtain of hair hang loose, picked up a couple of empty cans from the ground.

“What?” I asked. What was puzzling about that? I mean, other than the fact that neither of us had ever expected to call Toby my boyfriend.

She straightened, raising her eyebrows at me. “I don’t know,” she said, sarcastic. “Is it pretty common for army wives to make out with Gumby-looking hipsters in their spare time?”

She had a point. Technically, legally, I was cheating on Luke.

“I’ve considered that,” I said. Of course I’d considered that. For a few disparate minutes between putting on and taking off my clothes and checking my blood sugar and all the other shit I was supposed to do, I’d thought about how I probably should be more careful. And then I thought about the conversation we’d had by the playground before Luke shipped out and wondered if it would help the divorce look real once he got back. If there was a way to spin it if we did get caught.

Nora continued, “So you know that if someone that knows both you and Luke sees you with another man, there will be questions.”

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “I know.”

“And the questions will lead to talking, the talking will lead to reporting . . .” Nora said.

“But Luke and I don’t know any of the same people,” I pointed out. I told her to recall Chili’s, and how unlikely it was that our circles would intersect.

Nora shrugged. “Someone’s always watching. Haven’t you seen House of Cards?”

I let out a laugh, half because it was funny, half because she was making me nervous. I did not want to feel nervous. I wanted to lie on a blanket in Pease Park and listen to Toby drawl along to Val Kilmer and Kurt Russell in his raspy, Arkansas way.

“I see what you’re saying,” I said to Nora, nodding, trying to clench my brows to look serious. “I will definitely be careful.”

I felt my pocket vibrate. Probably Toby, waiting out in the truck. We had to stop at the liquor store before we got there. And everything seemed to take twice as long with him. We were always laughing or teasing or forgetting why we came to the store in the first place. I started to take a few steps toward the door.

Nora followed.

“You’re going to the park anyway, huh,” Nora muttered next to me as we ascended the stairs.

“Yeah.” I sighed. She could read me like a book. “I’m just having fun.”

“Oh, Cassie,” she said, a note of resignation in her voice. She patted my back. “Don’t let anyone ever tell you you’re afraid of fire.”

Luke

Skype had gotten a lot easier. I was telling Cassie a funny story Hailey had written me about JJ, how he had taken his stuffed turtle named Franklin to preschool and got in trouble for taking off the toy shell and telling everyone in his class that Franklin was “naked.” Cassie insisted that he shouldn’t have gotten in trouble for that, that he was just stating a fact.

“It’s a Presbyterian preschool in Buda, Texas,” I told her as I sewed up a hole in one of my socks. “And he didn’t really get in trouble. The teacher just told Jake and Hailey, that’s all.”

“Still. That shouldn’t even be a thing.”

Around Thanksgiving, after I’d sent three letters with no response, Hailey had finally started writing back to me. I got the first one last week: She’d said Jake knew that she was writing, that he appreciated it but wasn’t ready to respond, but she’d like to keep in touch, make sure that they knew I was safe, at least.

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