Chapter 29

He had only intended to leave her for a short time—bad idea.

It was all too much. He hated himself as he felt the hot liquid rush in his eyes and the lump growing in his throat, expanding, threatening to break through the tender flesh. The only release was one he couldn’t control. The tears had been coming for days, weeks, and maybe even months now. Watching his mother die, the downward spiral of his life, the added joy and terror of having a child depend on him all coalesced, descending on him like an emotional tornado.

He lowered his head, covered his face with his hands, and wept.

“Oh Jesus Christ! Really? You think that’s gonna help?” The man reached down to Hank and angrily snatched his hands away. He recoiled when he saw real tears on Hank’s face and a look of concern creased his features. “You weren’t faking,” he said softly.

The man’s posture assumed a position of defeat and he leaned a little into the car, one hand on the roof for support. “C’mon.”