Later that night, I stood against the sink in my dimly lit kitchen, again, trying to keep my heart under control. A few minutes ago, after Hank had called, I’d put on my favorite Fleetwood Mac album, and now in the living room the song Dreams was playing, the lyrics reminding me of how much I stood to lose tonight if I didn’t keep my feelings in check.
All of my life, I’d fallen too quickly for men and never used reason. Had to keep my head on straight this time.
It was ten o’clock and Hank was on his way. I’d suggested he park on Dill Street this time, instead of that vacant lot, and come around the house to my back door. I had a feeling Mrs. Lambert had spotted his car and was probably keeping track of Hank’s visits. I’d have to warn him about that. On the phone earlier, Hank and I had
