“Is there anything she needs?” Gloria asked, clearing her throat.

“She showed up with one little bag. So I imagine she’ll need a few things from home…Luke’s house. But for now, she’s okay. She hasn’t gotten out of bed yet. Poor thing. But she didn’t want you worrying about her.”

“Tell her it’s not working. I’m very worried.”

Joni chuckled. “I’ll pass that message along. She told me to tell you that she’ll let you know when she’s ready to talk.”

“Okay. Please tell her I love her and I’m here for her. Anything she needs. No matter what.”

* * *

With no one to search for, Gloria adjusted her course, steering her car toward Chickenshit Luke’s house.

“I’m not fixing things,” she told herself as she pulled into the driveway and stomped on the brake behind his pickup truck.

Her phone was ringing. Aldo. But she ignored it for now.

She climbed the front porch steps under a full head of steam and barged right in the front door. The dogs came scrambling to greet her from the living room. Warning barks turning to happy yips and the tap dance of dog nails.

Luke was sitting on the couch staring at the TV that wasn’t on. There was a beer in his hand and two more on the coffee table. She shot him a good hard look, letting him know without words exactly what she thought of him, and stormed up the stairs.

“Gloria!” he called after her. “Did you talk to her? Do you know where she is?”

She heard him on the stairs behind her, but she ignored him, veering off into the bedroom he’d shared with her best friend until the night before. She opened a dresser drawer and found only men’s t-shirts. Another one was all sweats and gym shorts. She left the drawers open and stalked to the closet.

“Gloria?” Luke entered the room behind her, and she spun around, finger pointing.

“Don’t talk to me. I don’t like you very much right now.”

“I had to do it, Gloria,” he called after her when she ducked back into the closet. She grabbed a few sweaters and sweatshirts, some bras, and underwear that she found in a drawer. “She’ll understand eventually.”

“You keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night,” she muttered to him, brushing past him to throw her clothing haul on the bed. She stomped into the bathroom and rifled through the vanity, pulling out everything that looked remotely feminine. In an immature and thoroughly satisfying move, she added Luke’s deodorant and toothbrush to the heist.

Back in the bedroom, she crossed to the other dresser in the room and found Harper’s gym clothes and pajamas. The pile on the bed was growing.

Luke walked into the closet and came back with a duffle bag. “Here,” he said.