Page 7 of Protecting What Is Mine

I stare at my feet. “I’m sorry. This was obviously a bad idea. I had actually just come to that conclusion and was trying to sneak away, if you can believe it.”

“Bad idea?” Hank steps forward. “Not at all. Your pretty face is a welcome distraction from staring at the same crappy painting on the wall for hours on end. So, uh…what’s in the basket?”

“Huh?” For a half-second, I’d forgotten all about the thinly-veiled prop in my hand. “Oh, right. It’s nothing really. Kind of silly.”

“Oh?” Hank smiles. “How so?”

“Well. I know my coming here is already pushing a line, but the idea of showing up empty handed seemed worse. Somehow. But then, I realized I don’t actually know you all that well, except for how you take your coffee, or your favorite item on the menu at the diner.” I offer the basket to Hank. “So, I went with what I knew. There’s a plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes, some rolls, and a big slice of pecan pie. I know that one is technically Gabe’s favorite, but I took a chance.” I feel my cheeks blush. “Like I said, kind of silly.”

Hank scratches at the scraggly stubble along his jaw. I’ve never seen him so ragged and run down. It’s far beyond run-of-the-mill tired. I imagine it’s the kind of exhaustion that only comes after days of anxiety and worry, piled on top of nights spent sleeping in a hospital chair. “Sounds like a gift from above if you ask me. Between the vending machines and the cafeteria,” he says, thumbing down the hallway behind him. “I could definitely go for some real food.”

My lips curl into a smile as blood rushes back to my cheeks. “Well good. Uh…Belle would be glad to hear it.”

“Would you like to come back to the room? It’s probably as good a time as any. I just dropped my brother Frank and his girlfriend off at the airport this morning. The only people back there now are my mom and Christy…uh, Chet’s wife.”

“Oh, no. I wouldn’t want to impose. Your family’s going through enough already, the last thing they need is to add a stranger to the mix.”

Hank thoughtfully scratches at his stubble again. “I sure wouldn’t mind getting a bite of that food. Would you at least be willing to keep me company in the cafeteria for a while? I know I’m a wreck. Wouldn’t blame you for saying no.”

I wave my hand at his words. “Not at all. That’d be great.” I bob my head while I try to contain my excitement. Maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t the worst idea ever, after all.

Sam will never let me hear the end of this.

The sign on the door to the eating area clearly states, ‘No Outside Food Or Drink Permitted.’ Hank spots the sign, glances to me and does his best to tuck the basket behind him as we push through the doors and sneak toward a table on the far side of the space.

Hank sets the basket on the table and slides back a chair, motioning for me to sit. He scooches my seat forward and takes his place across from me, eagerly pulling open the lid to peer at the goodies I brought. He looks up with a grimace. “Damn. I didn’t think about silverware.”

I smile. “Got you covered.”

He grins. “Really?”

“Yep. Having no idea what your circumstances might be, I tried to cover all the bases. Fork, knife, spoon, napkins, all the essentials present and accounted for.”

Hank shuffles the contents of the basket around in order to free the plate of meatloaf. He then sets the basket at his feet, sliding it between them as if that will somehow make it completely invisible.

When he takes in his first forkful of food, he looks to the ceiling while a satisfactory smile spreads over his face. “It’s still warm. How is that even possible?”

“I stopped on my way here. It’s not exactly fresh, but it ought to be pretty darn close.”

Hank lifts another heaping bite to his mouth. “I really can’t thank you enough. This is incredible.”

“Honestly, it’s nothing. The least I could do, considering.”

Hank shakes his head as he savors the bite. “It’s not nothing.” He gulps hard, trying his best to swallow. “Phew, I could use something to drink. Can I get you something while I’m up?”

“An iced tea would be wonderful.”

“Back in a jiff.” Hank slides the basket forward from between his feet and heads off. He stands impatiently in line but looks back often, offering a warm smile as he waits to check out.

I get lost in the view on the other side of the window. The sky is a powdery baby blue today, accented by an occasional fluffy white cloud. Picture perfect.

I’m so glad Sam talked me into this. So. Glad.

“One iced tea, for the lady.” Hank sets a large drink, filled to the brim, in front of me. “I hope you wanted it sweet. I didn’t think to ask, so I had to make an executive decision.”

“That’s perfect. Thank you.” I sip at my tea, debating whether it’s inappropriate for me to ask about his brother, while Hank goes back to work on his meal. Finally, desperate to break the silence forming between us, I ask, “So, how’s your brother doing? Any change?”

“Gabe?” Hank looks at me with a wry smile. “Nah, he’s always been a pain in the ass. I gave up thinking that’s ever going to change a long time ago.”

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