Page 100 of Soft Flannel Hank

“Dinnae forget, Esther. I’mverra, verrahard to kill.”

20

Hank stood in front of the small vanity in the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hips. He braced his hands on the countertop as he stared at his reflection in the murky space he’d cleared by swiping his palm across the mirror. He looked miserable. Hewasmiserable. And that feeling was all too familiar.

Hank cleared his throat to banish the tears and reached for his toothbrush and toothpaste. He could taste the fuzzy aftertaste of the whiskey on his tongue, clinging to teeth that he’d been too panicked to brush that morning. He vigorously swept the bristles across them, feeling somewhat invigorated by the strong mint taste.

Until it made him think of Esther.

“You don’t want that one. It tastes like toothpaste,”he had said to her that first morning she’d been in his house, taking the mint chocolate protein bar away from her.

And she’d laughed and said,“I like toothpaste.”

He could picture her face as clear as day in his mind as he brushed his teeth. How she’d padded back to the table and watched him open the green foil wrapper, how he’d had to chase each bite with a drink of hot coffee in order to swallow it. How she’d mimicked that with her own bar and coffee.

His mom had always said that she was never happier than when “all of her people’s feet were under the same table.” Hank had remembered that while he’d watched Esther eat. Half of his people were dead and the other half hadn’t been there at the moment, but even still, with Esther’s feet under his kitchen table, he’d felt so much peace, which hadn’t made a bit of sense to him then.

It had felt right having her in his house, with her feet under his table, and Hank had allowed himself to indulge too many fantasies this week about bringing her back to World’s End, to his house, to his bedroom, and laying her down in his bed that had been empty for entirely too long and asking her to work her magic there the way she had in every other abandoned cranny in his life.

He opened the door to the bathroom and found Niamh standing in front of him.

“Everything okay?” Hank asked.

“You should read this,” she replied, holding up a folded piece of lined notebook paper between two fingers.

He didn’t know what was in that note, probably Esther trying to let him down easy or tell him “it’s not you, it’s me” or whatever other bullshit she might try to spoon-feed him to make her abandonment more palatable. He didn’t want to read that. He didn’t have the energy.

“Why?”

Niamh raised an eyebrow and held the paper right in front of his face. “Because your girl’s in a heap of trouble.”

“What?” Hank barked, feeling a sudden surge of adrenaline which, when it collided with the alcohol still drifting lazily in his system, made him weak in the knees.

“I found it while I was packing up food. It had fallen off the counter and under the table.”

Hank resisted the urge to rip the piece of paper out of her hands. He forced himself to reach for it carefully and like a reasonable adult human, which he supposedly was. Niamh released it and then immediately turned and walked back into the main room, leaving Hank half naked and freezing with the note gripped in his fist.

He walked across the small hallway into the bedroom. He dressed quickly in jeans and a sweatshirt. After putting on a pair of white socks and feeling warmer, he sat down on the unmade bed and started to read.

Esther’s messy cursive was small and tight, as if she’d been cramming as much into that page as possible.

Dear Hank,

By the time you find this note, you will probably have already noticed that I’m gone. And I’m sure you’re probably thinking the worst of me. I left after I promised I wouldn’t.

I had a vision. Callum found out about the cabin and would be headed this way in a day or two. He knew it was just you and me. He didn’t think you’d be a “problem” for him. So I took the truck (I’m really sorry about that) and went back to World’s End so that you couldn’t follow me.

They’re going to get me anyway. Probably. Or maybe not. Maybe I can outrun them again. But either way, I can’t let them get you. You’re too important to me, Hank, and I’d never get over it if something happened to you because of that goddamn hero complex of yours.

The last week with you in this cabin has been the happiest week of my life. And up until about a year ago, I’d had a pretty good life. But nothing compared to you, Hank. Thank you for being kind to me, for keeping me safe (and warm), and for being such an incredible man.

Maybe I can come back to World’s End someday. Maybe Callum will let me go eventually and I can come back. I know that you probably won’t ever be able to trust me again, but maybe we could go get that diner breakfast sometime as friends?

Hank clenched his jaw so hard he felt his teeth squeak as they rubbed together. Like hell would he ever be able to just be her friend. Like hell would he ever let her think that.

Anyway, I’m running out of space. I’m gonna tell Magda what happened and she’ll send Jamie up. It might be a day or two but they’ll know where you are and someone will come get you. I’ll make sure of that.

I don’t know what the future holds for me, but on the off chance that the worst happens and I don’t get to buy you those pancakes or tell you in person, I just wanted you to know that I love you. I love you so much, Hank Dove, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop. So I’m going to carry that with me wherever I end up. Because no matter how awful it gets in the future, I’ll always have that. I’ll always have that week of loving you in person before loving you forever from afar.