“Nah. She’s finally settled down. I learned the skill of eating one-handed while taking care of my nieces and nephews.” He grinned, reminding Luke forcefully of the kid that Ben had once been.

Luke was a year older, but he’d known Ben throughout his childhood because they’d grown up in the same church youth group. Of the Coleman family’s four kids, Ben was the nicest, the one who was always in a good mood.

The day of the earthquake, the people on their mission trip had held a sports camp for local kids on inner-city soccer fields. At one point, Luke had seen Ben jogging down the field, passing a ball back-and-forth with a young boy. Eventually, the boy had kicked the ball into a portable net. Ben had thrown his fists in the air and given the same smile he’d given just now.

A few hours after that, their lives went from normal to near death. Down in that dusty dungeon, Ben had been hopeful and supportive. Luke had been neither of those things. It had taken all his effort to continue to breathe in and out in the face of his overwhelming terror and remorse. He’d been gripped with the worst type of shock, his mind consumed with one thought.

Ethan.

Ethan!

Over and over, with sickening, gut-punching guilt, he’d recalled the words he’d said to Ethan as they were about to take the stairs to the basement. “You’re last in line.”

So stupid. So, so stupid. Why had he said that?

All these years later, he still didn’t have an answer. He only had regret. And the sharp physical pain that wedged between his ribs every time he put himself back there, even for a few moments.

Luke crossed to the trash and threw away the remains of his meal. “So, you’ve started volunteering at the Center?”

Ben swallowed his bite. “Yes. I’m enjoying it so far.”

“Are you volunteering there because that’s where I work?” Luke leaned his hips against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms.

Ben stuck his fork in his rice so that it pointed straight up like a flagpole. “I had several reasons for wanting to volunteer there. But to answer your question, yes. One of them was you. I’d like for there to be at least a little bit of communication between us.”

“Why?”

“You were . . . there with us. It’s never set well with me, the fact that the rest of us have been close friends ever since but you haven’t been a part of that. Our group will never . . . feel complete without you.”

“You want to communicate with me so you can feel a sense of completion?”

“Sure. And because I think our friendship can be of some benefit to you.”