“I do, actually. Thanks for the break.”
Hank shrugged. A pause, then, "Grace called the office today."
"Anything wrong?”
"Nope."
"Then why'd she call?"
"To ask me if you’re eating."
Reno frowned. "What did you tell her?"
"I told her sometimes."
"Hank," Reno groaned.
"What?"
"Don't egg her on. Now she’ll pack me a picnic every night.”
“What would be so terrible about that?” Hank asked pragmatically.
“I don’t want to cause her any more trouble than she’s already got on her plate.”
Hank cracked the window a half inch and as cold air seeped in, said evenly, "I think you should let it happen."
"Let what happen."
"Whatever's happening between you and Grace."
"Hank."
"I know the burden you carry. But you don't have to put it down to pick something else up. You can carry both."
"That's not the way it works."
"You're not the one who decides how it works."
Reno looked over at Hank bleakly. "Who decides?"
"She does. Long as you're honest with her."
"She doesn't know any of it."
"So tell her."
"Not yet."
"Not never, though."
"Not never."
Hank nodded once. Then he reached across the cab, dropped the brown paper bag in Reno's lap and said firmly, "Eat the sandwich. Doctor’s orders.
"I'll eat it later."
"Eat half now. Save half for later."
