Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(120)

“Because—just—just because.” I turned away, unable to explain precisely why I wanted Hank to communicate with me using the same method he used with his best friend. The desire didn’t make much sense.

Over the last month, I’d seen firsthand how Hank had morphed from the grumpy—albeit ethical—ne'er-do-well of bygone days into an enthusiastically responsible homebody. He played ‘Tea Party’ with Sonya and studied maps with Joshua. He helped Kimmy with homework and smashed trucks with Frankie. He did dishes and swept, cleaned toilets and folded laundry. He’d settled into quiet domesticity (which, with four kids, isn’t very quiet at all) like a fish taking to water.

Today—him being late—had been the first and only instance where he’d demonstrated any semblance of his previous wayward ways, which was why I felt so on edge about his tardiness.

Honestly, me abruptly latching onto this new information about my boyfriend, wanting to message him using exclusively text emojis, wasn’t about Hank. Or Beau. It was about me. I’d been looking for a way to prove to myself I could bend as he’d bent. I could make space for him just the same as he did for me.

I wanted to communicate with Hank on his terms, the way he preferred. As silly as it seemed, and as bizarre as it was searching through random text emoji sites for just the right one, it felt critical in the moment.

Finally, I found a page that had a huge selection, grouped by use and sentiment. I bookmarked it. Singling out the one I wanted, I clicked it to copy and then navigated back to my text messages, trying again.

Charlotte: (☉_☉)

Hank: ?

Hank: ╮ (. ? ? ?.) ╭





“That one means What’s going on?” Beau said, now hovering behind me and reading over my shoulder. “But like in a Hey there. Everything okay? kind of way.”

“I see that,” I mumbled, switching back to the internet browser and copying a new series of symbols.

Charlotte: ?′???`?

Charlotte: (~￣3￣)~

Hank: ? . ?

Hank: (???)

Hank: ( ?? 3 ??)





I smiled, warmth coursing through me. This was fun. I loved how much he was able to convey with just symbols. Getting better at switching back and forth between the browser and the text message screen, I quickly sent a response.

Charlotte: ?(′???｀?)





Beau cleared his throat and I sensed him shift, moving away. “I’ll just, uh, give y’all some privacy.”

I only half heard him. Hank’s response didn’t take long.

Hank: (? ???)

Hank: ( ? )( ? )?(????)





I snort-laughed, my thumbs flying over my phone as I searched for an appropriate—or inappropriate—response and grinned like a maniac as I found exactly what I was searching for.

Charlotte: ? つ ? ?つ ╰?╯

Hank: …

Hank: ?=========== ?( ◎_◎)?





My maniacal grin morphed into a self-satisfied one and I powered off my phone, slipping it into my pocket, and turned back to Beau. “Okay, he’ll be here soon.”

Beau’s eyebrows ticked up. “He will?”

“Yep.”

“And you used all text emojis?” His mouth curved with a disbelieving smile.

“Yep.”

He beamed at me. “Wow, Charlotte. I’m impressed.”

I shrugged like it was no big deal while making a mental note to add that me want your dick text emoji to my shortcuts.

Feeling Beau’s eyes on me, I glanced at him again. He was still looking at me, but his expression had grown abstract, like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how to start.

“What’s up, Beau? You look like you got something to say.”

Beau’s gaze sharpened in a way that reminded me of his older brother Cletus, startling in its sudden shift from affable to piercing.

I swallowed around an abrupt flaring of nerves.

“After today, after y’all go public and these folks’ hands are tied due to Sienna’s clout, I reckon many of them are going to issue warnings to Hank.” Beau hooked his thumbs in his pants pockets, his friendly tone laced with something sharp. “You know, things like ‘Don’t hurt Charlotte,’ or ‘Keep that woman’s heart safe.’ Stuff like that.”

Trying for self-deprecating, I lifted my hands away from my legs and shrugged. “Well, I am on the bless your heart bingo card.”

“That’s cute.” His smile spread, his eyes narrowed.

I gulped.

“Charlotte.”

“Yes?” I squeaked.

“Don’t hurt Hank.”

I shook my head, a denial on the tip of my tongue.

Beau lifted his hand. “No. I don’t want reassurances. Those are just words. I mean it. Don’t hurt him. Don’t. I will not be happy if you do.”

I nodded, intending to say nothing. But then feelings disguised as words simply rushed out. “I will not be happy if I do either, Beau. I don’t think I could ever be happy again if I hurt Hank.”

Holding Beau’s steady stare, I watched as the sharp edge yielded to introspection, then finally warmth. “Good,” he said, his grin now entirely sincere. “I’m happy to hear it.”