Chapter 20 #3
And Janie did. The orgasm crashed over her, releasing not just the physical sensation but something deeper, like all the tension, fear, and shame of the past months was breaking apart and washing away with the receding tide.
She cried out, arching her back, her fingernails digging into Hannah’s shoulders, clutching her close, and through it all, Hannah watched her. Her anchor, her lover, her wife.
When Janie finally came back to herself, her body racked with deep, wrenching sobs that had nothing to do with the pleasure and everything to do with the emotional weight of what had just happened.
Hannah gathered her close and kissed her forehead. “I’ve got you,” she murmured into her hair. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
“That was—” Janie shook her head, unable to finish the sentence. There weren’t words for what that was.
“I know,” Hannah said, her voice thick with emotion. “I know, baby.”
They lay tangled together for a long time, with Hannah tracing soothing patterns up and down Janie’s back.
Her sobbing subsided, and her tears eventually slowed.
Janie melted into Hannah’s arms, wrung out and raw and more vulnerable than she’d ever been, but also so much lighter.
Those dark things that she’d locked inside her chest had finally broken free.
Eventually, Janie found the energy to move, and she shifted so she could look at Hannah.
Her eyes were shiny, and she was clearly on the edge of crying.
Janie kissed each of her eyelids, acknowledging Hannah’s vulnerability without bringing verbal attention to it.
Hannah blinked, and a stray tear escaped.
Janie thumbed it away gently. “Your turn,” she said.
Hannah wrinkled her nose. “Since when do we take turns?”
“Since today.” Janie tugged her closer and draped her leg over Hannah’s hip.
“Or maybe never again. But right now, I need to. I need to make you feel what you just made me feel.” She pushed Hannah onto her back, and Hannah let out a moan.
It was small, almost nothing, but in their intimate language, it was practically a shouted declaration of Hannah’s desire.
“Let me take care of you,” Janie whispered, and Hannah nodded.
Janie took her time, re-learning Hannah’s body: the dip of her waist, the sharp jut of her hip bones, the way her breath stuttered when Janie ghosted her hand over Hannah’s ribs.
Minutes later, when Janie finally slid her hand between Hannah’s legs, Hannah pushed her hips upward to greet her, and the sound she made was desperate, so delightfully desperate and dripping with desire.
“I’ve missed this,” Janie said, sliding her fingers through Hannah’s wetness. “I love making you feel this way.”
Hannah took Janie’s free hand and laced their fingers together. “I love you making me feel this way.”
Janie worked her slowly, carefully, watching for every reaction, every tell.
She knew Hannah’s body as well as she knew her own, knew exactly how to touch her, where to press, when to speed up or slow down.
All of it rushed back to her. But this time was different, like Janie was rediscovering Hannah and claiming something precious that had almost been lost.
Hannah’s eyes locked on Janie’s face, the weight of her gaze like a physical presence. There was trust there, and love, and a kind of desperate hope that made Janie’s chest ache.
“I love you,” Janie said, her thumb finding Hannah’s clit, circling with the pressure she needed.
Janie added another finger, and Hannah arched off the bed with a gasp.
Janie kissed her with the same desperate hope still lingering in Hannah’s half-lidded gaze.
She infused it with everything they’d been through and everything they were rebuilding, tried hard to calm Hannah’s fears and her own, though they’d quieted in the aftermath of her climax.
Hannah came with Janie’s name on her lips, her whole body tensing and then releasing, and a fierce pride and gratitude washed over Janie. This strong, beautiful, imperfect woman was hers. They were each other’s.
When Hannah’s breathing finally evened out, Janie carefully withdrew her hand and cuddled into Hannah’s side, pressing her glowing body to Hannah’s equally sweaty one. Hannah wrapped her arm around her and held her close, and they lay there in silence, just breathing. Just being.
“That was...” Hannah whispered.
“Yeah. That was something.” Janie didn’t have the words either, and really, did they need them? It was the feelings, the residual connection that mattered so much more than labeling what they’d just done and how they’d come together again.
“Are you okay?”
Janie considered the question seriously.
Was she okay? The depression was still there, of course.
The weight in her chest hadn’t magically disappeared, despite the mind-blowing orgasm.
The fear about the custody hearing was still there, adding more pressure.
The guilt about Chloe and the ER visit was hanging around too, though maybe slightly less crushing than before.
But underneath all of that, there was something new.
Or maybe not new. Maybe it was just something she’d forgotten resided inside her.
Hope, and connection, and the bone-deep certainty that she wasn’t alone.
And she hadn’t been since she’d met Hannah.
“I’m not perfect. And as amazing as you were just now,” she said and wiggled her eyebrows, “I’m not healed.
But I am okay.” She snuggled in closer. “I’m better than okay. ”
“Good.” Hannah kissed the top of Janie’s head. “Because I need you to know that wasn’t just physical for me. This wasn’t just about reconnecting sexually.”
Janie frowned. “I know.”
“Do you?” Hannah shifted so she could look at Janie’s face. “Because I need you to really understand that I see you, Janie. And not just as the mother of my children, though you’re so wonderful at that job. But as you. As my wife and partner. As the woman I want to spend my life with.”
Fresh tears spilled over, and Janie let them fall once more. “I thought I’d lost that. I missed you seeing me that way.”
“You didn’t lose it. I lost sight of it for a while. But I’m going to keep seeing you every day. Even on the hard days, and when the depression is bad, and when we’re exhausted, and the girls are driving us crazy. I’m going to make sure you know that I see you, and I promise never to stop again.”
“What if I can’t always see myself?” Janie asked quietly, giving voice to the rising worry in her mind. “What if the depression doesn’t get better with the meds? What if I have days where I can’t remember why I’m worth fighting for?”
“Then I’ll remember for both of us.” Hannah cupped Janie’s face and thumbed away her tears.
“I’ll remind you every single day if I have to.
You’re worth it, Janie. You’re worth every fight, every hard conversation, every moment of doubt.
You’re worth everything to me. You always have been, and you always will be. ”
Janie kissed her, soft and slow, and full of hope for what they were rebuilding. When they pulled apart, Hannah grinned widely.
“You know what I just realized?” Hannah asked.
“What?”
“We have an entire hotel room to ourselves. No kids who might wake up. No responsibilities until tomorrow. We could order room service. Take a bath. Make love again. Or just sleep for a little while.”
Janie ran her finger over Hannah’s lips. “Just sleeping with you sounds perfect.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Janie nestled closer against Hannah’s chest, her heartbeat steady and strong against Janie’s ear. “Let’s just be us for a little while longer.” With Hannah’s arms around her and Hannah’s breath warm against her neck, she was truly at peace for the first time in months.
They had a long road ahead, with all the therapy, the custody hearing, and the daily work of rebuilding trust and connection. The medication would take a while to really kick in, and the depression might never be fully gone. There would be hard days, maybe even hard months.
But she had this. She had Hannah, and vice versa. Their love was big enough for their children and for each other, and their hearts had room for both kinds of devotion.
And that, Janie thought as sleep crept closer to claim her, was more than enough.
It was everything.