Chapter 43
Chapter forty-three
Katie
It’s the middle of the night, and sleep evades me again. I’m so bloody hot. Menopause is a bitch. Stone cold one minute, then sweat pours out of every pore the next. The last few nights have been spent walking the corridors while my mind whirls, not allowing me to sleep.
The bathroom door is closed. I twist the handle, confused by who could be inside—it’s locked. Lance is asleep in bed, snoring loudly as I roam the halls. It must be Hannah.
“Hannah?” I whisper. “Are you in there?”
“Go away,” she wails.
“Hannah, what’s wrong? Do you want me to get your dad?”
“No.” Her rejection bouncing through the house.
“Okay, okay. Keep it down. We don’t want to wake your brother. Let me in.”
“No,” she shouts stubbornly.
“Let me in, or I’m getting your father,” I warn in my most authoritative voice.
I stand behind the door, willing her to open it.
The soft click of the lock releasing tells me she has given in.
I push the door and enter the bathroom, moving with caution while glancing around to try and decipher what’s going on.
Hannah sits on the toilet in her pajamas, bloodstained panties lying on the floor.
“I don’t know what to do,” she cries. “I’m not ready. I don’t want this to happen.”
I go to her and pull her into my arms.
“It’s okay,” I whisper into her hair. “I’ll help you. This is completely natural. Are you in pain? Is your stomach sore? It just means you’re growing up, sweetheart. It’s nothing to be frightened of.”
Her eyes are wide, terrified of what is happening to her body. She’s visibly shaking. I wonder how long she’s been sitting here on her own. My heart breaks for her. She needs so much support. I wish she would let me in.
“I’ll run you a bath. You sit there and relax. Then we’ll get you some fresh nightclothes and a sanitary pad. I have some in the bedroom.”
I turn on the hot water and add a generous blob of bubble bath. Steam rises from the tub as it fills with bubbles. When it’s ready, I help her in and ensure she’s comfortable. She disappears into the water, closes her eyes, and sighs in understandable relief.
“You relax,” I tell her. “I’ll get your clothes.”
She says nothing, but the relaxation on her face is enough. Everything lightens between us, when she accepts my help. It feels like an unexpected step forward.
On my return, I bring a glass of water and two painkillers, placing them on the side. “Have these. They will take the discomfort away and let you get some rest.”
Hannah gives me a shy smile; the first smile she has given me since I arrived in her home. Now, my home.
As soon as I moved in, Lance allowed me to put my stamp on the place.
I added my floral candles and multi-colored cushions; he never complained once.
It felt like home within days, something I never felt living with Brad.
New York was never meant to be mine; I was just another item in his collection.
Here with Lance, I know he wants this place to be ours. The four of us.
“Thank you, Katie. I’m sorry I’ve been so nasty to you,” she mumbles beneath the bubbles. She keeps her eyes firmly screwed tight, unable to look at me, I think.
“It’s okay. I understand how scary change can be.”
“That doesn’t mean I should’ve been so nasty,” she repeats.
“We all say and do things we regret,” I tell her. She opens her eyes. “That doesn’t make us bad; it makes us human.”
Her lids close again. A few tears beading the edges. She contains a small sob.
“Let’s get you sorted and back to bed. We can start with a fresh slate tomorrow. How does that sound?” I suggest.
“I’d like that.” A soft smile spreads across her face. She opens her eyes again. Everything about her is soft. She’s only a little girl, unsure of her surroundings and everything happening within them.
I can’t imagine what she’s felt these past two years. Her family bounced from one life-changing event to another. I want to bring more stability into Hannah’s life, let her be a child as long as possible, because right now she acts like a young adult, and that she is not.
My heart lifts—she’s giving me a chance. Although I’ve acted confident around Lance, Hannah’s worried me. I know what girls can be like. They hold grudges. I was worried we would never be able to move our relationship forward without having Hannah on our side.
Lance adores her, and I know he would do without me to keep her happy, no matter how much he says he wouldn’t. That’s what a father like him does: puts his children first.
David is easy to love and care for. He’s young enough if you show him love, he responds. I already feel I have an important role in his life. Amber, his mother, has been welcoming and speaks highly of Lance.
She and I have started to forge something resembling a friendship these past weeks. We connect on a level; I’m not sure what level, but we have a connection. Both of us were torn from our old lives and brought to Aviemore because of the same man, but for very different reasons.
We have a bond, albeit a strange one.
She’s a genuinely nice woman who took a few wrong turns, but she’s determined to create a meaningful world for herself and her son.
When I told her over coffee this morning that Lance and I had decided to give our relationship a chance, she was delighted, hugging me and saying Lance deserved to be with the woman he was clearly in love with. It was beyond heart warming.
“Are you done, sweetheart?” I prompt Hannah. Her eyes are tightly shut again; a soft snore coming from the bathtub. I’ve spent the past thirty minutes tidying and keeping myself busy doing nothing. I wanted to be near her if she needed me, but give her space. She doesn’t respond to my question.
“Are you ready to go to bed?” I ask louder.
“Yes, I’m exhausted,” she mumbles as she sits up.
Holding a towel high so she can step out of the tub and maintain her dignity, I wait as she places her wet feet on the bathmat, then wrap the towel around her. She cuddles into the soft fibers, the way a toddler does a teddybear.
“Your pajamas are on your bed, and I’ve left a sanitary towel with your underwear. Do you know how to attach it? Or would you like me to show you?”
She shakes her head. “No, it’s okay. We’ve done it at school. Why are you being so kind to me? I’ve been awful.”
I take her shoulders and look her in the eye. This is my chance to show her I’m sincere.
“Because I love your dad. He means the world to me,” I say honestly.
“I want us to have a good relationship, Hannah. I want us to enjoy spending time together. I hope, in time, you and I will come to care about each other, too. You and your brother are the most important people in your dad’s life.
That makes you important to me. I want us all to be happy together. ”
My arms wrap around her; she feels so fragile. It’s easy to forget she’s a child when she’s spouting arguments across a room at you. But she’s vulnerable and looking for guidance. I see that now.
After I settle Hannah back in her room, I head to my own bed.
The room is silent apart from the regular breathing of my beautiful man, sprawled across the bed like a starfish.
I snuggle in beside him, pulling the duvet from beneath his strong leg to release more for me. He mumbles, and his eyes open slowly.
“Where have you been?” he whispers.
“Oh, I was helping Hannah with some lady things.” He raises an eyebrow. “Best not to ask at the moment.”
“My little girl is growing up.” A sadness, almost wistful in his tone. “I’m not sure I’m ready to own a woman.”
I burst out laughing. My own rule of staying quiet for David shattering.
“What?” he shoots back.
“If there’s one thing I do know,” I giggle. “It’s that you don’t own a woman, especially a teenage one. You negotiate with them.”
“Hmm,” he mutters. “We’ll see.”
“Anyway,” I say. “Hannah and I chatted for a while. I think we’re going to be all right. I can see us getting on after all.”
“I’m pleased to hear that.” He turns onto his side to face me, propping himself up on his elbow. Dark eyes stare, holding me fast. I know that look—he has one thing on his mind. “But can we stop talking now?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I interrupting your beauty sleep?” I give him a cheeky wink. He holds my gaze firmly and stays silent for what feels like forever. “Or did you have something else in mind?” I raise an eyebrow, mimicking his mannerism.
“No, I’m feeling quite alive, actually.” He shuffles toward me, his cock pressing on my stomach. He’s ready to go. My pussy springs to life, pulsing already. “It’s probably better I show you what I want to do to you. Not tell you.”
He nudges me onto my back, sliding on top, holding his weight on his arms while grinding his cock between my legs. My pink checked pajama top is popped open until my breasts spring free.
“I love your tits,” he mutters. His face disappears between them. Sharp teeth nipping from the outside in, until landing on erect nipples. Taking each one in his mouth, he flicks the tip with his tongue. I groan. Bringing his eyes back to mine, he kisses me softly on the lips.
“I’m going to take you now, baby,” he drawls.
He doesn’t rush me. He never does. By the time he slides inside, my body is already arching to meet him, breath breaking as he fills me inch by inch.
We move together, slow at first, finding our natural rhythm. Every tighten, every pace increase, instinctive, inevitable. I rise to meet him, again and again. Losing myself in stretch, the pressure as his tip hits my g-spot.
The release is sudden, stealing my breath. He follows with a groan against my neck, holding so tight I think he may never let go.
Afterwards, we lie tangled together in the dark, awake but silent. Our hearts still racing.
This is where we are meant to be.