She’s curled up on top of her covers, eyes open but empty. Knees hiked up to her chest and hands slid under her cheek, she barely acknowledges me when I step inside the room.
“Sit up, baby. Let’s get this dress off,” I whisper, flipping on the bedside lamp.
She coaxes herself to a seated position. I crouch down in front of her and reach one hand around her back. “Hi.” The zipper glides easily down her spine.
“Hi,” she replies.
My hands twist in the hem of her dress on either side of her knees. “Lift up.” She complies and I maneuver the fabric over her hips. “Arms up.” I tug the dress over her head, her hair falling messily across her face when she’s finally free.
Before I can ask what she wants to sleep in, she reaches for my hoodie draped over the foot of the bed. My heart seizes in my chest.
I grab it before she can. “I got it.”
My body will always respond to Hannah perched half-naked on the edge of her bed, but that’s not what I’m here for and, more importantly, it’s not what she needs. She rids herself of her bra without a word and slides into the sweatshirt with my help.
I kneel in front of her, running my palms in soothing strokes up and down her thighs. “Is there anything else you need?”
Her gaze locks with mine. She swallows once. “Kiss me.”
Our lips meet for the first time in far too long. It’s finding home after hopelessly wandering in the dark for months. Climbing the familiar porch steps, feet bloody and skin dry, to discover nothing’s changed, it’s exactly the same as when you left it. A home that’s been waiting for you to find your way back. That alone is its own kind of healing.
There’s no tongue. No heavy press of one body into another. No fabric clenched between fists. Only a lazy, tender exploration, mouths moving effortlessly, an exchange of contented sighs and hums.
I cup her face in my hands and pull back to look in her eyes. “Let’s get some sleep.”
She nods and I tuck her under the blanket.
Stripped down to my boxers, I slide in behind her and slot our bodies together until we’re a tangle of limbs and skin. Hannah’s breathing finds a steady, sleepy rhythm within minutes.
It’s twelve hours until I have to leave for the airport, I didn’t eat dinner and I’m not tired. But I’ll stay right here, holding her while she gets the sleep she needs until the last possible second.
59
the last something real
Hannah
There’sa weight in my bones I’m not sure I’ll ever shake. My eyes drift open and for one delightful, disoriented moment, Mom’s alive. She’s at home preparing to meet me for brunch in a few hours. An urn containing her ashes isn’t on my coffee table in the living room. I didn’t host her memorial service yesterday.
Except, none of those things are true. Just like that, I want to disappear under the covers until tomorrow…or maybe the day after…maybe forever.
Soft footsteps amble down the hall until he’s standing in the doorway.Rowan came.
I take in the fact he’s already fully dressed.
“You’re up,” he says, as I will myself off the pillow.
My smile is small but genuine.God, I’ve missed him.“When do you have to go?”
He releases a heavy breath and comes to sit beside me. “Half an hour.” I nod at the wall. “You want breakfast? I brewed you some coffee.”
I shake my head and make for the bathroom wearing nothing but his sweatshirt hanging to my thighs. Rowan watches me in the reflectionof the mirror while I brush my teeth and splash water on my face. I hold his gaze as I run a comb through my hair and throw it into a ponytail.
Feeling a bit more put together, I tuck my hands in the front pocket of the hoodie and come to lean against the dresser across from him. His dark gaze rakes over me slowly—my bare feet all the way up the smooth skin of my legs. His fists clench, he looks away.Damn that honor of his.
I step closer, nudge his shoulders back. He tips his head to look at me as I set my knees on either side of his hips.
A tight puff of air pours from his nostrils when I settle my arms loosely around him. His hands find my waist, clutching the thick fabric like he’s scared what will happen if he lets them drift anywhere else.