The uneasy feeling morphed into fear, although not toward Hank. I knew better than to think he would ever hurt me.
But other monsters would.
Chapter Eight
I went inside and started cooking meals for the next three nights. While waiting for some pasta to boil and a casserole to bake, I sat down at the kitchen table to make a menu for the rest of the week. Hank came inside with his crutch tucked under his left arm, carrying his empty coffee cup with his free hand, and stopped in the doorway.
Tears filled my eyes when I saw the pitying look he gave me.
“Are you scared of me now?” he asked quietly.
“No,” I said with a grim smile. “If I genuinely believed you’d turned on me, I’d drive to Texas and turn myself in to my father, because if I can’t trust you, then I can’t trust anyone.”
He hobbled over to the table and pulled out the chair next to me, plopping down on the seat. “Not even Marco?”
My chin trembled, and I looked up at the ceiling. “I’m trying so hard not to second-guess things with him. I’m trying to just let it happen. To let myself feel truly loved and cherished by a man for the first time in my life.”
“Then you trust him,” he said gently. “Otherwise you wouldn’t let yourself feel that way.”
He was right, of course, but it wasn’t that simple.
I met his gaze. “This could take longer than a few weeks.”
His shoulders softened. “Possibly.”
I nodded and bit my bottom lip. Old feelings of rejection, simmering under the surface for months, bubbled up. While I knew this was his way of protecting me, my heart struggled to accept it.
“What’s going on, Hank?”
He looked away. “You know I can’t tell you that.”
“Is someone out to hurt you? Is that why you want me gone? Did you have your old friends here last night to work out a strategy?”
He was quiet for a moment, tapping his finger on the table. Then he stopped and turned back to me. “My past is ugly, girl, and sometimes the ghosts rise up to haunt me. But it’s nothin’ for you to worry about. I’ve got it under control.”
“Do you, though?” I asked in a dry tone. “Because if you did, it seems like you wouldn’t be sending me away.”
“You have to trust me on this. Once this is settled, it won’t matter if your father’s after you or not. I’ll be able to protect you.”
“You planning to hire a hit man?” I teased.
The cold look in his eyes said it was under consideration.
“Hank . . . ?”
“We’ll have options, girlie.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You just have to trust me.”
His half answers left me more unsettled than before. What on earth was he up to? “You’re not doing something stupid on my account, are you?”
“I’d be lyin’ if I said you weren’t a factor, but no. Even if you weren’t here, I’d be followin’ this same course of action. I’d just have more selfish reasons for it.”
The hairs on my arms prickled. I didn’t like the sound of that. “Does this have something to do with Bart? What else did Wyatt tell you last night?”
He lifted a hand and shook his head. “No more questions. I’ve said too much as it is.”
I didn’t want to directly ask him about Louise, but my mind jumped to my less-than-cordial conversation with Big Joe Just like the other old-timers I’d talked to, he’d thought I’d moved in to take advantage of Hank and steal his money. There wasn’t any money, I knew that, but maybe it was time to ask him why.
“What happened to your money, Hank?”
He froze, then turned a hard look at me. “You’ve never once seemed concerned about my money before.”
“I couldn’t give two figs about your money,” I said, “and when people accuse me of livin’ with you to try to get it, I usually laugh in their face and tell them there is none.” I held his gaze. “And I truly believe that it’s gone. What I want to know is what happened to it.”
“That’s a story from long ago, and none of your concern.”
I heard the undercurrent of anger in his voice, making me wonder whether Bingham had maybe cheated him out of it.
I glanced at the clock. “I need to leave soon, so you’re gonna have to get the casserole out of the oven.”
“You headin’ to the library?” he asked with a frown.
I gave him a dark look. He claimed to be doing this for me, and I honestly trusted that, but something deep in my soul was raw and bloody. I’d been abandoned too many times before. Irrational or not, I was hurt. “Since I no longer live here, you no longer deserve to know my schedule.”
He groaned. “Carly . . .”
“Look,” I said as I pulled out the strainer and drained the pasta in the sink, my back to him. “I get it. Sort of. You have some secret reason for getting me out of the house that involves your old associates and possibly Bart Drummond. I know that you’re trying to protect me, but part of me can’t help but be hurt that you’re hiding things from me.”
He was silent, so I dumped the pasta back in the pot and covered it with a light drizzle of olive oil.
“I don’t mean to hurt you,” he finally said. “I love you, girlie.”
I gave him a grim smile over my shoulder. “I know you love me, and I know you have your reasons. I just wish you’d trust me.” I dumped the pasta into a second casserole dish, then added the vegetables I’d already steamed and covered it with plastic wrap. “I don’t have time to do the dishes. Maybe Ginger can do it after her shift at the tavern.”
Wyatt paid Ginger to come out and help Hank three times a week. Doing the household chores and taking care of Hank was how I earned my keep, so at first, I’d been insulted by Wyatt’s presumption. Now I was glad Hank would have the help.
“Carly.”
I walked out of the kitchen and grabbed my purse on my way to the front door, on the verge of crying, although I didn’t quite know why.
“Carly,” he pleaded from the kitchen doorway.
I stopped with my hand on the doorknob. “I’ll be back later to get my things.” I ran my hand over my head as a new thought hit me. “I’ll need to leave Letty for now.”
“Letty can stay here as long as you need.”
I nodded and opened the door.
“This ain’t forever,” he said, sounding heartbroken.
I turned to face him, my hand still on the doorknob. “Then why does it feel like it is? It might be longer than a few weeks, right?”
He stared at me and didn’t say anything.
I started to walk out, then stopped. “Did Wyatt put you up to this? So I’ll leave Drum?”
Exasperation washed over his face. “You don’t have to leave town. Just stay with Marco.”
“But if I did leave town . . . ?”
He was silent for a moment. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing.”
Nodding to myself, struggling to hold back tears, I walked out the door toward my car.
“Carly,” he called after me.