Nash knocked on the roof. “We all like fun, brother. It makes the bad stuff hurt less.” He rumbled away before Locke could answer, and the sense that I really was missing something returned full force. I knew Locke as well as he allowed me to, but Nash’s soul was as familiar to me as my own, and he got this look about him when he thought he’d upset someone. This earnest guilt that weighed him down until he’d made it right. Like all the men in my life, Nash was emotional. He was also a leader. His hog took point while Embry guarded the rear, and our convoy left the compound.
