Page 54 of Soft Flannel Hank

Esther wore a shocked look, her eyebrows more pinched together than ever before, but Hank didn’t have that urge to smooth the line with his finger. Not now.

No. Now, he had the urge to lock himself away from her until she left, so he wouldn’t be tempted to let her in again. He was dispensable. This moment in time was dispensable. And she would move on and leave him behind when she did. He couldn’t let her become indispensableto him. Because she’d take all the best parts of him that remained when she left.

Hank slid sideways and went back to the table, grabbing as many boxes and cans as he could carry in his arms and putting them away quickly. Esther was where he’d left her, with her arms wrapped tightly around her torso. He finished putting the groceries away, stuffed all the plastic bags inside of the one, nearly overflowing plastic bag in the bottom of his pantry that he never remembered to take to the store to recycle. Back when he went to the store regularly.

Back when his life was predictable, even if it was lonely.

Safe.

He’d never felt the prickle of danger so acutely against the back of his neck as he did when Esther sniffled before asking in a watery voice, “What did I do wrong?”

He sighed. Hung his head.

“Nothing, sweetheart.”

The endearment slipped out before he even realized he was saying it. But it felt right, even if it made him feel like he had a trapped animal howling in his chest.

“It doesn’t feel like nothing.”

You’re right. This doesn’t feel like nothing. And that’s the problem.

Hank rubbed a calloused palm over his face. He walked past Esther, pausing in the doorway to the hall and stairs with his back to the kitchen. He scrubbed at the ache in his chest with one hand.

“I just can’t do this, Esther.”

He knew that if he turned around, if he saw the tears shimmering in her eyes, making them look electric blue, that he would cross the kitchen in one stride, throw her over his shoulder, and carry her up to his bed to show herjust how muchit didn’t feel like nothing.

He couldn’t. So he didn’t.

Instead, he climbed the stairs, listening to them groan, hearing the floorboard in the hall creak with every step he took. And for the first time, Hank wondered if maybe his house was actually haunted. Not by ghosts or memories of people long gone, but by the deep, gasping loneliness that he’d been able to ignore for most of the last seventeen years but knew he couldn’t ignore anymore.

11

Esther sat down at the kitchen table and buried her head in her arms. She’d kissed Hank, and hehadkissed her back. Right up until he stopped.

“I just can’t do this, Esther.”

He could. With every single glowing edge of her intuition, Esther knew that Hank very muchwantedto do this. Wanted her. He kept reaching for her, only to pull his hand back at the last minute. Like he was starving himself of her touch in the name of maintaining that steady, restrictive diet of loneliness to which he’d subscribed.

Hank very muchcoulddo this. He just wouldn’t let himself.

But Esther had been in his house less than twenty-four hours and proven to herself that she couldn’tnot.She couldn’t be that close to him, his smell, his quiet strength, his absolutely batteredgoodness,andnotreach out for him.

She certainly couldn’t add unrequited longing to the already long list of overwhelming feelings.

No. Not unrequited.

Denied.

Last night as she’d laid in bed, she’d allowed herself to fantasize about staying up late and paying cards with Hank or watching TV snuggled in his recliner, squeezed together in a way that was just barely comfortable enough to tolerate.

She’d even started to think of a plan. Esther hadn’t been able to pack everything with her in her haste to get out of Savannah, and had forgotten her grandmother’s grimoire. She’d wanted to ask Shannon to send it to her for months but had never been able to stay in one place long enough to receive a package. But she had a few days now. It was a long shot, but maybe there would be something in it that Esther could use to repel a vampire like Callum.

That’s what she’d been saying to Shannon. She was so ready to go. Ready to fight back. Ready to take back her life.She couldn’t wait.Shannon had agreed to go to Esther’s apartment and look for the grimoire in some of their grandmother’s hastily packed boxes.

At least that hadn’t changed. Esther would still hold out hope that the grimoire could help her. And yet everything had changed at the same time, as all of those cozy fantasies about being held and kissed andwantedevaporated.

Her phone dinged on the counter where she’d left it, and Esther leaned over to grab it.