Page 62 of Soft Flannel Hank

“That sounds lonely.”

“Aye,” Jory said quietly, a tear spilling over and sliding down her cheek. When it reached the corner of her mouth, she licked it away with the tip of her tongue.

Esther reached out and gripped Jory’s, closing her palm over her new friend’s clenched fist.

Jory smiled. “You’ve been alone too long as well, Esther MacLaren.”

“Not that long,” Esther scoffed but she sobered when she saw Jory’s expression.

“Not by my standards, but your life is different. A flash of light.”

“Well,” Esther said, taking a deep breath, “you have another friend now, so you’re not alone.”

Jory smiled.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had one. A close one,” Esther said quietly.

Jory smiled. “For me as well,ma caraid.”

They were quiet for a while. Esther shuffled her cards and Jory played with her yarn.

“The man hunting me is a Scot,” Esther said suddenly.

“I haven’t been there in at least three hundred years. I wouldn’t know him.”

Esther sighed. “I guess you wouldn’t.”

* * *

“Pull it together, man,”Hank groaned as he yanked on his hair and paced back and forth in his bedroom.

He didn’t think his house was being watched, but he didn’t know for sure, and his room was the only one in the house with blackout curtains that blocked out the outside. He could have his panic attack, and nobody, especially not Robbie Cain, could see.

He felt himself losing control of his breathing, practically gasping for air. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears, behind his eyes, pounding.Bang. Bang. Bang.

It took him a moment to realize that the sound he was hearing wasn’t his heart. Well, not just his heart. Someone was at the door.

For the first time in six months, Hank wished he’d kept a gun. How the hell was he supposed to protect Esther without one? With his fists? Against a vampire? But the thought of holding one in his hands made him break out in a cold sweat. He shivered violently and grabbed the baseball bat from the floor of his closet.

He crept down the stairs and was positive that he didn’t take a single breath until he made it to the kitchen, the bat clenched in his fist and hanging by his side. He peeked around the corner to see who was at the mudroom door. It was hard to make out through the sheers. The shadow looked tall and broad.

Hank took a deep breath in and crossed the mudroom in two strides, nearly yanking the door off its hinges as he jerked it open, bat ready.

Magda stood on the stoop holding a large casserole dish with Jamie behind her.

A low sob burst out of Hank’s slack mouth.

“Hank!” Magda said cheerfully, as if she didn’t notice the fact that he was unraveling in front of her.

“Hank,” Jamie said, softer, as he squeezed around Hank and into the house.

Hank stood in the doorway, looking out at his quiet street. No cars. No pedestrians. No movement. He closed and locked the mudroom door and laid the bat on the boot bench.

“I’m putting this tetrazzini in the fridge, honey,” Magda called out from the kitchen. “By the way, thank you for the roses. They’re beautiful.”

“Esther’s gone,” Hank said. Neither of them replied.

He heard the fridge open and close. He went into the kitchen and saw Jamie pouring himself a cup of coffee from the pot and putting it in the microwave. Magda was unloading dishes from the drying rack.