Hank took it from me and put it in its cradle. Then he looked at me. “Have you eaten?”
I nodded.
“Did you have dessert?”
I shook my head.
He knifed up, grabbed my hand and pul ed me up after him.
“Get dressed, let’s go.”
* * * * *
He took me to a place cal ed Gunther Toody’s. A gimmick restaurant designed for family dining and to give the feel of a 50s style diner. Neon, chrome, vinyl and waitresses in white uniforms covered in slogan buttons wearing shocking red lipstick. Hank ordered a burger and cheese fries. I got a chocolate malt. The malt was the thickest, biggest, best malt I’d ever had in my life.
I was staring out the window, sucking on the straw in my malt, trying to catch a thought. Everything had been happening too fast, I couldn’t keep up. I didn’t know what to do next, where to go, what to think.
The only thing I did know was I needed to slow down, catch my breath, heal my body and get myself safe. I didn’t figure Hank was safe. Denver certainly wasn’t safe, at least not emotional y. Neither was Chicago, if I was honest.
I felt Hank’s foot nudge mine, taking me away from my thoughts and I looked from the window to him.
God, you’re handsome. I thought when my eyes settled on him.
I sighed and realized I was stil seriously in trouble.
He was done with his food and his plate was pushed away. He was watching me.
“There are things to say,” he told me.
I supposed there were but I not only didn’t want to say any of them, I didn’t want to hear any of them either.
I wasn’t going to get a choice.
“You told me that you loved him,” Hank said.
I blinked.
“Loved, lov ed, deh, deh, deh,” I said. “Past tense.” Hank leaned forward and took my hand. “Sweetheart, I asked, ‘Do you love him?’ and you nodded, not past tense.” Oh.
I remembered that.
Shit.
I leaned forward too. “I’d just been rescued from a crazy man and hadn’t slept in days. I was so tired, I didn’t know what I was saying or doing.”
what I was saying or doing.”
His
hand
squeezed
mine.
It
was