Chapter 26
THOMAS
Something isn’t right with Hannah. She’s absolutely exhausted, and I can’t seem to figure out why. We caught up on all the sleep we missed from the drive and night of the shooting, so I don’t know why she’s so tired.
She’s been asleep on the couch since we got home from our day with the Graffs at six-thirty. I worked my ass off today, shoveling out pens, helping Ron cut down a tree, and even going so far as climbing onto the roof to patch a leak.
Hannah spent most of the day inside with Dottie, helping her bake a few casseroles for a local woman who lost her husband recently in an unexpected accident. Then, she sat on the front porch and read her book while Dottie ran to town and dropped the casseroles off.
I was patching the roof of the barn while she was reading, and I caught her nodding off a few times.
It’s barely past nine now, and she’s sound asleep. I don’t want to wake her, but I also don’t want her to sleep on the couch for the same reason I moved her to the far side of the bed the first day. I need to be the first line of defense.
Maybe if I slowly pick her up, I can get her up to bed without waking her. Then, tomorrow if she’s still tired, I’ll talk to her about it.
I stand from where I’m sitting on the couch and bend over her. I slide my arm under her neck and the other under her hips. As gently as possible, I stand, pulling her into my chest. Not only does Hannah immediately stir, she screams.
Her voice is hoarse as she screams, her limbs flailing. One arm swats at my face, while the other pushes on my chest. My glasses go flying off my face as she scratches.
I don’t move to let go of her, though, and maybe I should. “Hannah!” I shout, hoping I can break through her screams. “It’s me!”
She breaks from my hold, her feet hitting the ground with a thunk. Her eyes fly open as she bangs at my chest. I reach out, clasping her wrists in my hands to stop her assault. “Baby, it’s Thomas!” I yell again.
Her eyes widen, pupils dilating as she fully takes in my face. Tears well and stream down her cheeks as she sobs, her body softening as she sinks to the floor.
I sink to my knees in front of her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders and letting her sob into my chest. The entire time I hold her, I whisper in her ear, letting her know I’m here, that she’s safe, that I will never let anything happen to her.
She melts into my body, her sobs heavy and brutal. I want to step away for a moment to get an ice cube, something I know helped her at the police station, but at the same time, I don’t dare step away from her.
Instead, I hold her as she cries, hoping that I’m enough to calm her right now. Another few minutes pass, and she calms, her breathing slowing enough for me to feel comfortable pulling away.
“I’m going to get you an ice cube, okay?”
When I shift away, she clutches at my shirt tighter and whimpers, “No.”
“I’m sorry, Hannah. I shouldn’t have tried to move you when you were asleep. I wasn’t thinking,” I whisper.
“It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have fallen asleep. I… I thought someone was taking me.” Her voice is hoarse from her screams as she speaks into my chest.
It’s probably a good thing we aren’t closer to the main house, since her screams might have sent them into a spiral of worry.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. You have been half asleep all day. Are you getting sick or something? You’re exhausted.” I caress her head, smoothing her hair and running my hand over the skin of her neck, subtly trying to check her temperature.
She shakes her head against my chest. “I didn’t sleep last night.”
“What do you mean? You climbed into bed with me.” I replay last night in my mind, fully remembering her climbing in beside me.
“Yeah, I got into bed, but I didn’t sleep,” she murmurs. “As soon as you fell asleep, I sat there.”
“How come?”
“My mind wouldn’t let me. It didn’t let me the first night either. I’m not afraid of the dark, I never have been, but something about it the last two nights has been terrifying to me. I mean, we have no idea who’s out there. They could be waiting until it’s dark to make their move, Thomas.”
“Hannah,” I murmur, wrapping my arms around her and tucking my head into her neck as I breathe her in. I try to say something more, but she cuts me off.
“Someone needed to be awake in case they found us. Someone needed to be prepared.”
All I can think of at this moment is how badly I let her down. I didn’t even know she wasn’t sleeping. I got up fairly early this morning, and when she was already awake, I thought that maybe she was an early riser. I didn’t suspect a thing until she nearly fell asleep every thirty seconds today.
“I’m so sorry, Hannah. I should have known something was up.” I keep stroking the back of her head, hoping I can soothe her somehow, someway.
She leans back, moving away from me as she hurriedly swipes at the tears on her face. “I’m fine. I don’t know how to safely use a gun, but I figured if I was awake, if I heard something, I could wake you.”
“We are safe here, Hannah,” I tell her, reaching out to wrap my hand around her wrist. “You can sleep, and know that.” I glance at my feet, noting Arson pressed up against her calf.
“How do you know that?”
“The FBI wouldn't have sent us somewhere we weren't safe and if we were in danger, they would move us. We're not near any major roads or highways, and we haven’t seen anyone else besides Ron and Dottie since the day we got here.”
I reach down and scratch Arson’s ears. “Plus, even if he’s in a dead sleep, Arson will wake up to anything, and trust me when I say he will bark his head off to let us know before something happens. Promise.”
Hannah stands and sinks onto the couch, dropping her head into her hands.
I grab my glasses from the floor and place them on my face before I sit down beside her.
I slide my arm around her shoulders and pull her into my side.
Her body shudders as she sobs. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I don’t even know why I’m crying.”
“Probably because I scared the absolute shit out of you tonight,” I reply, pressing a kiss to her temple. I can’t help but touch her right now. I need it to ground me. “I probably did more damage than good then.”
She shakes her head as she leans into me, opening her eyes. The whites of her eyes are bloodshot and stained red, the blue a vibrant shade, totally contrasting to the redness. “I’m sorry,” she repeats.
“Stop it,” I say, cupping her cheek with my other hand, turning her face to meet me. Our foreheads are touching, breaths intermingling as I wipe away her tears. “You don’t need to apologize. The only thing we need to do is figure out a way to help you sleep.”
She nods against my forehead, squeezing her eyes shut as she inhales deeply through her nose, and exhales through her mouth slowly.
“Do you want me to sleep on the couch so I’m down here in case?” I ask, even though that’s the last thing I want to do. I want to be by her side.
“No,” she rushes to say. Taking another long breath, she continues, “I need you there with me.”
“Okay.” Thank god.
Without another word, she stands. “I’m going to get ready for bed.”
“Wait—” I reach for her, clasping her wrist in my hand. “Hannah, wait.”
“I need a minute, Thomas. Please.” She spins to face me, her eyes pleading, hands twisting in front of her.
I nod, letting her go. She heads upstairs, coming down a moment later with her pajamas and shower supplies. She closes the bathroom door behind her, and a minute later the shower starts up.
Alone, I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees and dropping my head into my hands.
I am so frustrated with myself that I didn’t even take care of her well enough to make sure she was okay.
I know she has anxiety, and I know this is a tough situation, so what the hell is wrong with me that I didn’t think to take an extra step for her?