He sat in the truck, watching the house. Chewed softly, nervously on his lower lip. He'd been so sure. Why else would Hannibal have sent him the address? Well, okay. Maybe just so he'd know where they were. But he could've just said, "We're out East." Or, "We're okay, don't worry."
But he'd sent the full, complete, detailed address.
No. Hannibal knew he'd show up. For a visit. He wasn't ready to leave the VA. He couldn't find a job, get a place to live, support himself.
It wasn't the greatest job in the world. Or the fanciest digs. But he was doing it. He was here. It had been hard, deciding what to take, what to leave. Hiding it where he could reach it easily, without someone else finding it first. Harder still thumbing his way across country.
But he was here now.
And he was staying.