The wounded man was only thirty-eight, ten years younger than her. He was black but looked grey and painfully thin from the effects of the wounds he'd...received. The man had been awarded the Victoria Cross for saving thirty men including his officer. But in the process had taken so many wounds it was a miracle he was still alive. As it was he was virtually paralysed and needed twenty-four hour care. His son and father took this on after all the poor man deserved their help. Denisa saw from his. " "And to you," I said as we clinked glasses. I took a sip of the whiskey and sat back down on the couch. She stayed standing, which gave me a good look at her. "Um, can I ask you something?" "Shoot." "You weren't joking before, were you? About why you came back to the store." Crap. Busted! Now, I could try a song and dance and try to worm my way of telling the truth, but then how would I explain agreeing to give her a ride home or come inside her apartment? Shit. Deep breath. "Nope." I paused.. More

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