Page 51 of Keep

“What kind of advice?”

“The kind I’m not repeating.”

“Now I definitely need to hear it.”

“You definitely do not.”

“Was it sex advice? It was sex advice.” Chad sounded delighted. “Your ex-wife is giving you sex advice.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Don’t you dare. This is the best thing that’s happened to me all week.”

Hank pressed his free hand over his eyes, smiling in the dark. “She’s concerned I’m being too... conventional.”

“Conventional.”

“Her word was vanilla.”

“Oh my God.” Chad was laughing now—really laughing, the kind that came in waves. “I love her. I haven’t met her and I love her.”

“She’d love you too. That’s what worries me.”

The laughter faded. Hank could hear Chad breathing.

“I miss you,” Hank said. It came out plainer than he’d intended. No qualifiers. Just the fact of it, floating there between them.

“Yeah.” Chad’s voice had gone quieter. “Same.”

Silence. Not empty—full of the distance between Cumming and Foggy Bottom.

“I should let you sleep,” Chad said. “Campaign stuff tomorrow?”

“Church. Then a luncheon.”

“Church.” A beat. “You go to church?”

“I’m a Republican senator from Georgia, Chad.”

“Right. I keep forgetting you’re—” He stopped. “Well, not forgetting. I just forget what it means sometimes. The whole...” He trailed off.

Hank waited.

“Anyway,” Chad said. “Church. Be good.”

“I’ll try.”

“And think about what Shelby said.”

“Goodnight, Chad.”

“Goodnight.” A pause. Then, quieter: “Hey, Hank?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you called.”

“You called me.”