But it wasn’t the same thing. There had never been anything like his night-well, his half night-with Jenny.

He exited the cool car, using his left arm to push the door shut, cursing the fact that his shoulder wasn’t healing as quickly as he’d hoped. He knew he wasn’t eighteen anymore, but he was in top physical shape, and he’d done every single thing the doctors and physiotherapists had told him to do.

He heard the sound of footsteps and looked up to see Cole, who lived across the street, pacing his way down the driveway.

“Hey,” Cole greeted with a nod, striding forward. Living so close to one another, the two men spent many casual evenings in each other’s company.

“Hey,” Mitch returned, hitting the lock button on his key fob.

“Shoulder okay?”

“It will be. But my physio is a sadist.”

“Poor baby.”

Mitch grunted.

“Got a beer?” asked Cole.

“Sure,” Mitch answered as he started for the front door. He’d rather have a double shot of single malt. But he’d read studies that told him drinking alcohol to relieve pain was a dangerous path to start down. He wondered if it was as dangerous for emotional pain as it was for physical pain.

“You took Jenny home last night,” Cole stated as he followed behind.

“So?” Mitch’s tone came out uncharacteristically sharp. But the last thing he wanted to do was talk about Jenny. “Her car broke down.”

“I saw she left it in the TCC parking lot.”

Case closed. There was nothing unusual about Mitch offering Jenny a ride home. He didn’t owe anybody any explanation.

He inserted his key and swung open the front door. He retrieved his Royal Crier newspaper from the metal bracket beside his house, and grabbed a handful of mail from his mailbox. Then he tossed it all, along with the keys, onto the side table in his small foyer.

The house was cool and dark, and he breathed a sigh of relief at being home. Maybe he’d take some pain pills later tonight. He had a feeling it was going to be a challenge to get to sleep.