Page 7 of Hungry Like the Wolf

“You can’t keep on like this, you know,” Esther said.

“Like what?” Robbie said, like he didn’t know.

“You look like shit.”

He laughed humorlessly. “Well, don’t sugarcoat it for me, now.”

Esther crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re not sleeping. You’re not eating like you usually do. You never leave your house except to come here, and I know that’s just because you’d feel guilty if you didn’t help.”

“That’s—”

“You’re not okay, Robbie,” she said.

It was a harsh truth, but true nonetheless, and delivered with love. He knew this, even if it made him want to throw something because, goddamnit, he already knew he wasn’t okay. What he didn’t know was how to fix himself.

The doorbell rang again, and Robbie looked sideways to see Hank Dove, Esther’s partner, walk in.

“Hi, babe!” Esther said, her face lighting up as Hank approached.

Esther was tall and yet Hank still towered over her as he slipped an arm around her waist and bent down to kiss her forehead. She beamed. Of course she did. If Hank gave Robbie a forehead kiss, that might actually cure him.

“You forgot your wallet,” Hank said, pulling it out of his coat pocket and setting it down between them.

“I’m not buying anything. You didn’t have to bring it in!” Esther said.

“You drove here without your license,” Hank replied, his deep bass somehow soft sounding. “And what if you had needed something? What if something had happened—” He broke off.

Esther rested her head on Hank’s chest and wrapped her arms as far around his burly waist as they would go.

“You’re right. Thank you for worrying about me.”

“I always worry about you, sweetheart,” he said.

Esther looked at Robbie without lifting her head. “And I worry about him.”

Robbie’s stomach knotted. Hank looked at Robbie for the first time since entering the store. His eyes went wide.

“You got a haircut,” Hank said

“He got bangs,” Esther said.

Robbie groaned at the same time Hank said, “What?”

“Never mind, baby,” Esther said. “But this haircut is a cry for help.”

“I’m going to throw you off a bridge,” Robbie muttered under his breath, and Esther snorted a laugh.

But Hank was all earnestness. “You okay?” he asked, his brow lowered in concern.

“I’m fine,” Robbie said, more out of habit than fact.

“He’s not fine. Look at him,” Esther protested.

“Sweetheart,” Hank warned. She rolled her eyes.

“Give him Nadja’s number, Hank.”

“Who’s Nadja?” Robbie asked, curious. Nadja. He liked that name.