Chapter 19 Hannah #2
My mind whirs through possible interactions and scenarios, each one ending worse than the last, until there’s a soft tap on my shoulder. “Hannah, are you okay?” Dottie asks, her soft voice pulling me back to the present.
I shake off the thoughts, offering her a small smile. “I’m fine, just a lot going on is all.”
“I’m sure. You two look like you need some sleep.
I can tell Ron we need to call it quits.
This can all wait until tomorrow.” I try to stop her, to tell her we’re fine, but she shushes me.
“Ronnie, we need to let these kids get some sleep.
Let's go get their car so they can unload and get settled. This can wait till tomorrow.”
Ron straightens from where he was showing Thomas a drainpipe. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”
Thomas waves him off. “It’s fine, really.”
They won’t hear any of it, though. “Stay here,” Dottie goes as far as saying. “We will go get your vehicle.”
They don’t let us protest before taking the keys from Thomas and heading back to the main house in the side by side.
Thomas and I stand there a little dumbfounded as we watch them leave. “I’m exhausted,” he finally says. “Come on, freckles. Let’s wait inside.”
The air is muggy and humid, so I’m thankful for the two window air conditioning units, one in the living room, and one upstairs. The coolness feels wonderful on my skin, and I kick off my shoes and sink into the comfortable couch right away.
Thomas unhooks Arson’s leash from his collar, and Arson bounds over to me. He settles at my feet, running his face along my shins, pressing his nose hard. “Hi, buddy,” I say, scratching his neck. “What do you think of the cottage?”
He nudges me again, as if he is trying to tell me he likes it.
Thomas sits down beside me, reaching out to rub Arson’s nose, too. “Sleep?” he questions.
“I kinda want to shower again, I feel really grimy, but then, yes.”
“Ditto,” Thomas rubs his eyes under his glasses. “I can’t even think straight.”
“Hmm,” I can only mutter in response. The sound of the trunk opening pulls me from the haze momentarily, and Thomas and I both stand to head out and help grab our things.
Ten minutes later, Dottie and Ron have helped us with our bags, giving us a few final notes, and their phone number with instructions to use the landline and call them if we need anything, promising to stop by tomorrow to check in.
With them gone, I’m left feeling awkward, unsure of what to do next. Thomas and I bring our bags upstairs, but after, it’s like a guessing game. We don’t know what to do, or what to say, so it’s awkward, this weird tenseness in the air.
“Do you want to shower first?” Thomas asks, gesturing down the stairs.
“Sure,” I reply, quickly digging into my bag for a pair of shorts and shirt I can change into as well as my bathroom things.
I rush downstairs, closing the door behind me, and hurry to turn on the fan. I start the shower, climbing in before it’s even had a chance to get hot, letting out a quick squeal, and settling once it warms.
The shower is like a reset button. This has all felt like such a dream that I didn’t really process things until now, but it is truly settling in.
I’m in the middle of nowhere in Southern Missouri, with a man whom I barely know under the guise of him being my fiancé.
I already miss my Grandma, and wish I could text my sister and beg her for advice, but I can’t.
I’m all alone with only Thomas to lean on.
A man that for a long time, I’ve had feelings for, but never planned to act on.
A man that was my first kiss not even a full day ago. So much has happened that I don’t know how to process it.
Instead of trying to process, I go numb. It’s like there’s nothing left of me, I’m simply a shell. I go through the motions of washing my hair and body, making sure I’m fresh and clean. I get out of the shower before I use all the hot water, not wanting Thomas to freeze.
I dry my body and apply a thin layer of lotion before dressing and towel-drying my hair. I run a brush through it and brush my teeth again before exiting the bathroom.
Thomas is sitting on the couch, his head flopped back onto the wall. Arson’s head rests in his lap, and he snores softly. I wish I had my phone. It’s a cute moment, and I’m sure Thomas would appreciate a photo of it, but oh well.
I slowly walk over to them to try and wake him, but I trip over my own feet, stumbling and nearly falling to my knees. I catch myself before I do, but embarrassment floods my veins anyway. Arson startles awake, waking Thomas in the process.
“Wha—” Thomas stutters, sitting up, eyes glancing around the room.
“Sorry,” I say quietly, my cheeks flaming. “I wanted to let you know that I’m out of the shower.”
He rubs his chest. “Oh, thanks.”
I nod and spin on my heel, heading up the stairs. All my stuff is on the right side of the bed closest to the stairs, so I pull back the comforter and climb in.
I sink into the bed, my body going lax and eyes shutting within seconds. The bed and pillow are so comfortable that I barely even have time to remember I brought my own pillow from home before I’m drifting.
Something shakes my leg and I move my limb away, grumbling. Grandma never lets me sleep past nine on weekends, and it’s annoying as heck. There’s another shake, this time on my shoulder. “Grandma, stop, I’m tired,” I mumble, pulling the covers over my eyes.
“Hannah, it’s Thomas,” his voice is low as he talks quietly.
The bed dips at my hip, and I shoot up straight when I remember where I am.
I’m not at Grandma’s for the weekend, I’m in the middle of nowhere, Missouri, with Thomas Cunningham after we witnessed an attempted murder, and a threat on Thomas’s life.
I breathe hard as all the memories flood my brain. “Hey, you’re okay,” Thomas says, resting his hands on my shoulders. Arson is tucked at my side, sound asleep, missing all the activity. He must have joined me at some point.
“What’s going on?” I ask, running my hand through my still damp hair. Huh, maybe I hadn’t been asleep very long.
Thomas’s hair is wet, a piece hanging down over his forehead. My fingers itch to push it up and away, but I refrain. His black square glasses are sliding down the bridge of his nose, and he takes his hand from my shoulder to push them back up.
“I’m sorry to wake you, but you should sleep on the other side,” Thomas says, gesturing to the untouched side of the bed.
I rub my eyes. “Why?” I don’t have a problem moving, but I’m curious.
Thomas sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t want to scare you.”
My gut churns, and I give him a warning look. “Thomas…”
“Fine,” he breathes. “On the off and completely unlikely chance that there is a break-in, if I’m on this side of the bed, I’m closest to the stairs, and where the intruder would enter. I brought my gun with me, and would have it in the nightstand.”
“Oh,” I state. It makes sense. If there is an intruder, he’s the most equipped to deal with it. Well, besides Arson.
“I promise I didn’t mean to scare you,” Thomas rushes to say. He reaches up with one of his hands, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear gently. “I’m trying to keep you safe, Han.”
I nod, shifting so I can stand. “I know. Thank you,” I say.
I want to say more, to tell him how much I appreciate his kindness and him taking care of me, but the words die in my throat.
I slide out of the comforter and off the bed.
Arson wakes with a loud grumble as I round the bed, switching the pillows so Thomas doesn’t have to sleep on a wet pillow from my damp hair.
I climb back into the bed on the opposite side as Thomas pulls the blinds on the one window up here. It’s darker than it was when I first fell asleep, so I’m assuming he closed the blinds and curtains downstairs too.
A lot of light still peeks in, but it’s plenty dark enough to fall back asleep with how tired I am.
Thomas moves around the small upstairs, and I drift off quickly, too tired to overthink anything else at this moment.