Page 8 of Hungry Like the Wolf

“Nadja Stonebreaker,” Hank said. “She’s my therapist.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I want to go to therapy.”

Hank nodded. “I didn’t want to go either. But it’s really helped me.”

“He’s going,” Esther said to Hank, before Robbie had a chance to reply. She turned to look at him. “You’re going.”

“I don’t think therapy is gonna help me, Red,” Robbie said. “I’m not anxious about any one thing. I’m not talking about my mom, and I never knew my dad. So I don’t know what we’d talk about.”

Esther’s eye roll was seismic. She reached across the counter and plucked his phone out of his pocket and had it unlocked in seconds.

“Can you share her contact with Robbie, honey?”

Hank sighed gustily but pulled out his own phone. Moments later, Robbie’s phone vibrated in Esther’s hands, and she clicked a few times before handing it back.

“There. I added her number to your contacts. I’m not calling to schedule your appointment because I’m not your mom. But I will hound you relentlessly—and I do mean relentlessly—until you do. I’ll be in your ear fifty times a day. I’ll be the biggest pain in your ass.”

“I’ll just block you.”

“No, you won’t. Callum may be your best friend, but we all know I’m a close second.”

He knew she was right. He also knew that she would do it, too. He would get no peace until he called.

Hank cleared his throat. “Nadja replies to texts,” he offered.

“Thank you, Hank,” Robbie said dramatically. “That was actually helpful. Take notes, you shrieking harpy.”

“Shrieking Harpy is my job title on my business card,” Esther shot back with a smile.

Robbie fought his own grin. But he clicked on the contact for Nadja Stonebreaker and opened a text message.

My name is Robbie Cain. I got your information from Hank Dove. He says you might be able to help me with some anxiety I’ve been having.

He turned the phone around and showed Esther. “There. Happy?”

“Deliriously,” she said, leaning back against Hank, who wrapped his arms around her shoulders and chest, holding her close.

The phone vibrated in his hand, and he flipped it to see that she’d replied.

I actually have an opening tomorrow morning. Does 10AM work for you?

Robbie swallowed against the lump in his throat, the panic rising higher and higher. He could feel his breathing get shallow.

He closed his eyes. Something rustled in the background, and then he smelled Esther. Peppermint and rosemary from her shampoo. Baby powder from her deodorant. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into her for a hug. They were nearly the same height, so it was nothing for him to rest his chin on her shoulder and let her hold him. He wrapped his own arms around her and held on tightly.

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered.

“How do you know that?”

“I’m psychic, remember?” She squeezed him tighter. “Trust me.”

“If you say so,” he said, doubtful.

“But before it’s going to be okay, it’s going to get worse. Because we have to do inventory today.”

CHAPTER 4

Robbie had grown accustomed to how his skin felt two sizes too small, to how he was on alert at all times, how impossible it had felt to sleep for weeks. He was exhausted but wired, starving but without an appetite. He felt as if he was always on a taffy puller, stretched too thin over and over but never allowed to break.