Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(101)

“You seem like you’re feeling a lot better?”

I nodded.

He sighed. It sounded relieved, and he covered one of my hands with his, dwarfing my fingers where they rested on my lap over the covers. “You had me scared, there. I don’t know if you remember, but Sonya stayed with you in the bathroom and gave me updates.”

“I do not remember that.”

“Don’t talk with the thermometer in your mouth,” he said. “Here, let me fill in some blanks. I’ll start at the beginning.”

While I sat propped against my pillows, Hank proceeded to succinctly illuminate what I’d missed. How he’d run into Jackson at the hardware store in town and used the hole in my drywall as an excuse to come over, and then everything that came after: making dinner, Kimmy’s homework, Joshua’s maps, Sonya’s costume, my bath, calling Ashley, feeding the kids, washing my hair, having Kimmy lay down Joshua while Hank worked on the costume with Sonya, laying Sonya down, doing the dishes, laundry, sending Ashley home in his car instead of hers so Hank’s overnight stay wouldn’t be noticed, baking a three-layer chocolate cake, and then—finally—patching the hole in the wall.

But he didn’t recite the tasks as though looking for praise or some sort of reward. More like, he’d made decisions and wanted to keep me in the loop, ensure I felt comfortable with the path he’d chosen while I’d been unavailable for consultation.

“I used your sewing machine to finish the costume, but it probably needs one final try-on before Friday. I hope you don’t mind, Sonya stayed up so I could make sure it fits.”

The thermometer beeped. Before I could reach for it, he snatched it from my mouth and anxiously frowned at the tiny readout. His forehead cleared of worry lines.

“Just over ninety-nine. That’s fantastic.” Hank grabbed bottle of acetaminophen and unscrewed the child-proof cap. “You’re due for the next dose. Let me go get another bottle of the electrolyte drink Ashley brought over. Be right back.”

Passing me the pills, he stood, bent to give me a kiss on my right temple, and then darted out of the room.

Meanwhile, I swallowed around a ballooning lump, the reality of what he’d done—how he’d shown up, stepped in, and helped—rendering me speechless and utterly overwhelmed.

I’d been extremely attracted to Hank for a long time now, to his clever, rebellious spirit and heart-stopping smiles. I’d had a crush on him forever, which had certainly deepened due to his professional ethics and care for his business and team. During our short time working together, he’d impressed me so darn much.

I’d always considered him sexy and fascinating and desirable, but never so much as this precise moment.

Helen of Troy might’ve possessed a face that had launched a thousand ships, but I suspected the extent and breadth of Hank Weller’s sheer competence—were it ever to be made widely known—would become the catalyst for a hundred-thousand bra and panty sets being flung at his feet.

Forget Magic Mike and greased up, rock-hard abs. Forget banter and flowers and candlelit dinners. Forget expensive gifts and grand, sweeping gestures. Forget all that.

A person in possession of self-sufficiency, attention to detail, expertise in domestic tasks—large and small—and who pitched in without being asked? Who did so with gentle kisses left on noses and temples and teasing smiles? Without complaint and expectation of constant praise and rewards and effusive gratitude?

Here I’d been for the last three or so weeks, assuming his interest in me had faded and would continue to do so. I’d believed it was only a matter of time before he simply disappeared and stopped texting me back, I’d been readying my heart for the eventuality.

And there he was, plotting to come over without triggering the gossips, taking excellent care of my kids and getting shit done, handing me pills as it was time for my next dose, and he knew when I needed another dose. He’d been tracking it.

He'd taken care of me. Of us.

I knew my worth. I’d promised myself after leaving Kevin that I would never accept less than what I deserved, I would never settle. At the same time, I’d never believed someone existed who would (or could) rise to and exceed my expectations.

My faced crumpled and an irrepressible sob stole past my lips. I covered my mouth with a hand to keep the rest in, but it was no use. Emotions took over like a preacher’s wife at a church picnic or a three-year-old literally anywhere.

I cried, great big waves of feeling knocking me around. I didn’t hear Hank come back to the room, nor did I see him. It was only when he climbed next to me on the bed and handily wrapped me in his arms, holding me tight and close, that I realized he’d returned.

“Angel, angel, don’t cry.” He kissed my head so sweetly and I wailed at the tenderness of it.

I didn’t know how to process this, how to receive such selfless, loving actions, how to accept they were possible, given to me freely. All because he cared so much. About me.

And so I wept.





CHAPTER 27





CHARLOTTE





“I don't want learning, or dignity, or respectability. I want this music, and this dawn, and the warmth of your cheek against mine.”

RUMI, THE ESSENTIAL RUMI





The next time I awoke, it was to morning sunlight streaming in through the windows and to me on top of a real-life Hank-Weller-body pillow.