Chapter 33

We didn’t say anything, the silence stretching between us like an oil spill. I chewed my food, my thoughts running around in circles.

Hank was good at pretending to eat, moving his food around, sipping his beer from time to time. But after a while, my stomach was so tight, I couldn’t swallow another bite. And though the words wouldn’t come, I could still reach out to him—I put my hand over his, and without looking at him, caressed his thumb, hoping to convey what I felt in that simple gesture.