Page 124 of Soft Flannel Hank

“Well,” Nadja said with a shrug, “that really depends on you. I’m glad to see you taking better care. And I’m glad that you’re not in such a fog. I don’t know if you’re ready to talk about the night that ended your career?”

Hank swallowed. He didn’t want to talk about it. That’s where the most painful trauma lay. Because it was adjacent to what happened to Anna in the timeline. The incidents weren’t related, but they happened in short succession. He didn’t want to talk about it at all. Either thing. But he knew that he needed to.

Nadja made a sympathetic sound.

Hank squeezed his eyes shut tightly, rubbing his hands against his jeans. “I probably should.” He felt his pulse beating faster, his breathing shallower. He opened his eyes and looked around. Five things he could see. Five things.Come on, buddy, he said to himself, imaging Nat saying it.

That ridiculous mug of Nadja’s. His paper coffee cup. The patterned rug. A stack of brightly colored books on the coffee table. Nadja’s bright red flats.

He took a deep breath in. And then another.

“I don’t want us to get into it today, Hank,” Nadja said softly from across the coffee table.

“So next time? You want to hear the whole story then?”

“Goodness, no,” Nadja said, shaking her head from side to side. “No. We’re not going to run headfirst into that story.”

Hank was confused. Hadn’t she said she wanted to talk about the incident?

“Hank, I don’t believe that people can process their trauma until they feel safe enough to do so. And one of the ways I try to make people feel safe is to consider their lives after that trauma and identify their strengths. It helps them to feel more resilient, and that resilience makes them feel safe. We’ve got a long road ahead before we start picking that night apart. You’ll be ready when we get there.”

Hank swallowed thickly, the tightness of his near-panic still heavy in his chest. “Okay. So what happens next?”

Nadja smiled again, the skin beside her eyes crinkling. “Well, your homework until next week is to make a plan with Esther for what would make her feel like she’s starting a new life with you, not just inserting herself into your old one. Maybe do something to the house together. Buy a piece of art or something. Maybe some coffee mugs.”

She would suggest coffee mugs. Hank huffed a laugh.

“And then,” Nadja continued, “Next week we can circle back on your self-esteem journaling. Have you been doing it?”

“It’s been a few days,” he admitted.

“That’s okay,” she replied, waving him off. “Maybe start again tonight?”

Hank nodded. He liked Nadja immensely and had from the start. The way she’d made him feel like he had all the tools within himself to fix his broken pieces, that he just needed to learn how to use them.

“I can do that,” he said.

“And maybe take Esther on a date? You two skipped some steps. And if it works, it works. But don’t forget to romance her a little bit.” Nadja winked at him.

“Something for the house. A date. Got it.”

“One last thing. Have you thought about going back to work?”

“I don’t want to be a cop anymore,” he said, feeling his stomach roll at the thought. “I can’t.”

“Of course,” Nadja said, nodding in understanding. “But have you thought about what you might like to do now?”

He had, in fact. He’d gotten a text from Magda earlier in the day that Alice needed something fixed at the motel—for real this time—and he’d stopped by on the way to Nadja’s. As he’d worked on fixing the office door that didn’t hang quite right, he and Alice had talked about how much needed fixing around the motel. By the time he’d left, they’d written a long list of things to be done, and Alice had offered him an absurd amount of money to do them. He’d talked her down to something that felt more reasonable and she’d happily agreed.

“I’m going to be working for Alice at the motel doing maintenance and helping her update things.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! I think that will be good for you.”

He grunted. It would be.

It was dark when he pulled into his driveway.Theirdriveway, he reminded himself, which felt good. Because Esther was staying. For good this time.

He hadn’t driven straight home. He’d had to stop at the gas station.