30. Hannah
Hannah
Everything felt different on the drive back to the inn, as though the danger that had been hanging over us had finally lifted.
The Vossics had lost, Otto was staying with Brakkus, and no one could take him away.
I knew I should have felt relieved, but after everything that had happened, I was too exhausted to feel much of anything at all.
Otto made a frustrated sound from his car seat beside me and rubbed his fist along one tusk. His limbs had gone loose with exhaustion, but every time his eyes started to close, he jerked himself awake and whimpered like sleep had personally offended him.
“I know, baby,” I whispered. “We’re almost there.”
Back at the inn, Brakkus carried the diaper bag and opened the front door for me to walk through with Otto.
We crossed the inn’s lobby beneath the crystal chandeliers that threw warm light across the black-and-white marble floors.
A fire crackled in the enormous stone hearth at one end of the room, and guests sat in deep leather chairs with drinks in crystal glasses on polished side tables.
Brakkus guided us toward the grand staircase. The carved banister gleamed in the light as we climbed, his hand at the small of my back to steady me as I carried Otto. Thick runners softened our footsteps, but I could still feel Otto’s weight growing heavier with every step.
Upstairs, the hallway was hushed by patterned carpet that swallowed nearly every sound. Framed paintings lined the walls between dark wood doors and antique sconces.
Brakkus unlocked the suite. The room was all carved wood, thick curtains, Tiffany lamps, and furniture too grand for the moment. I crossed to the sofa, quickly changed Otto’s diaper, and put him in fresh pajamas.
“First dinner. Then sleep.”
Otto blinked slowly at me and shoved two fingers into his mouth. I picked up the room phone, then looked over at Brakkus. He stood near the window with his hands loose at his sides, as if he had forgotten what to do with them.
“What do you want for dinner?” I asked.
He blinked at me. “Steak. Potatoes. Vegetables.”
I nodded and ordered dinner for everyone. Room service arrived on a silver cart with a linen cloth over the top. I sat Otto in the high chair, and the three of us settled at the dining table to eat.
Brakkus sat across from me without saying much. Otto made it through most of his chicken and three heroic spoonfuls of potatoes before his eyelids gave up. His head tipped forward with his little hand wrapped around his cup.
“Oh, buddy,” I whispered.
I wiped his face, lifted him out of the chair, and carried him into the small nursery off the living area. Brakkus followed me to the doorway and stopped there, huge and silent. Otto fussed once when I lowered him into the crib, but he was too tired to fight me for long.
“Hush now, little baby,” I sang, rubbing slow circles on his belly.
When Otto was finally asleep, I eased my hand back and waited a moment to make sure he stayed down, which felt like a small miracle after the day he had. I then stepped out of the nursery and pulled the door closed behind me.
I looked around the room, trying to gain my bearings. The room service cart had been moved to the door to the hall. Otto’s cup sat on the table. His spare pajama pants were on the sofa cushion, and one of his socks had landed under the edge of the coffee table.
I crossed to the living room and picked up the sock, then stood there because there was nothing else to do. The moment I ran out of tasks, all the anxiety and emotions I had been holding back since leaving Brakkus’s house came rushing in at once.
I sank onto the couch. My legs ached. My head buzzed while the hearing kept trying to come back into my mind. The mate matcher. The Vossics. Every stranger in that room listening while my place in Otto and Brakkus’s lives was pulled apart.
Brakkus crossed to the sideboard and opened a bottle of red wine.
He knew I drank it to unwind after difficult days.
Today was one of the hardest of my life.
He poured two glasses, brought one to me, and sat in the armchair beside the couch.
He looked exhausted, his big shoulders rounded forward, his shirt sleeves pushed up.
I waited for him to say something about winning, but instead he took a sip of wine, reached for the remote, and turned on a romantic comedy.
Bright music filled the room as people on the screen stumbled through problems that would almost certainly be resolved in ninety minutes.
I wrapped both hands around my glass while the familiar, uncomplicated story unfolded in front of us.
“I hope Otto sleeps through the night,” I said.
On the television, a very pretty woman in a yellow dress argued with a very pretty man in a flower shop.
Their mouths moved too fast, and their faces were too bright for the quiet room.
Brakkus reached for the remote and muted the movie.
The silence that followed felt louder than the sound. I looked over at him.
He had one hand wrapped around his wineglass. The chair he sat in was broad and sturdy, but somehow he still seemed too large for it, his presence filling the space around him. He stared at the dark red surface of the wine for a moment.
“I failed you when I let you leave.”
I had no idea what to do with that sentence. My hand drifted to the spare pajama pants on the cushion beside me. Although I had already folded it, I found myself smoothing the tiny legs again, running my thumb over the soft cotton until it was perfectly flat.
“You left because the Vossics made you believe your presence endangered Otto,” he said.
My throat tightened.
“I knew you were trying to make the choice easier for me. And I let you carry that burden alone.”
“It was complicated,” I said.
Brakkus shook his head. “No. It was cowardice on my part.”
“For one second, I was relieved.” Everything in me went quiet before he went on.
“I wasn’t relieved because I wanted you gone. I was relieved because wanting you as much as I did, I do, terrifies me.”
“If you left, I didn’t have to ask you to stay,” he said. “I didn’t have to find out if you would ever really choose me. Choose us.”
I stood because I couldn’t sit there with that much honesty on the table.
The diaper bag was by the writing desk. I crossed the room with the pajama pants and sock, unzipped the bag, then zipped it closed again without putting the clothes inside.
I thought about the day I packed my things while Brakkus stood in the doorway.
“I told myself I was protecting him,” I said.
“I know,” Brakkus said. “And I let you go. I didn’t fight for you. I didn’t stop you and make you understand.”
“When I came back for the painting…” My voice came out thin. “He was…”
Brakkus closed his eyes for half a second. “I know. I should have called you when he started regressing.”
I stood by the writing desk with my back to him. The old brass lamp threw warm light over the diaper bag. I unzipped it again and put the clothes inside this time.
“He stopped eating properly. Stopped speaking,” Brakkus said. “And I didn’t call you.”
I turned back to him. “Why?”
“Calling you back felt like using you after I’d failed you. I told myself I was respecting your boundaries. But Otto needed you. And I made my shame more important than his care.”
“I hope you learned your lesson, Brakkus. Especially after today.”
Brakkus took the words without flinching.
“I did,” he said. “I learned it too late, but I learned it. I hired a private investigator to spy on you. I watched you through my security feeds. But I have not taken accountability for my own actions. And for that I am deeply sorry. I won’t put my pride above the people I love again.
Not my fear. Not my shame. Not the story I tell myself, so I don’t have to look at what I did. ”
I heaved a sigh. This was the first time I’d learned he had been spying on me, although I should have already suspected it.
I wanted to take my things and leave, but I couldn’t run away from this conversation.
Not if I wanted to protect Otto from the aftermath of the hearing.
That little boy needed me, and I wasn’t going to abandon him again.
“It hurts that I’m dangerous to you until you find a use for me.” Brakkus scrubbed both hands over his face. “I know Otto had to come first. He should come first. But I was his caregiver, Brakkus. I love him, and he needs me.”
“I messed up, Hannah,” he said. “With Otto. With you.” He stood slowly from the armchair.
“I watched him stop eating. I watched him stop speaking. I watched him stop reaching for people, and I still didn’t call the one person who knew how to help him.
I let Nadia’s parents back me into a corner, and then I acted like being cornered meant I had no choices. That was weak. I won’t do that again.”
I looked at him for a long moment. “I hear you,” I said. “And I believe you mean it.”
His face tightened, as if even that much was more mercy than he expected.
“But I’m not going to tell you it’s fine,” I said. “Not tonight.”
Brakkus nodded. “I know.”
I left the writing desk and crossed back to the couch for my wineglass. I took it to the small table by the window because I needed more space between us.
Brakkus stayed in the armchair. On the television, the silent couple kissed in the rain, which felt offensive under the circumstances, and I frowned at the screen. Brakkus noticed, reached for the remote, and turned the movie off, leaving the room dimmer without its glow.
I rubbed my thumb against the side of my wineglass. “I keep hearing the mate matcher say, ‘Claimed or not, she’s his.’”
Brakkus went very still.
“I knew you believed I was your mate,” I said. “I knew the whole situation wasn’t casual to you.” My throat tightened, but I kept going. “But when she confirmed it for the whole room, it felt like everyone there got a piece of me I hadn’t given.”
Brakkus stood, moved around the couch, and sat across from me at the table.
“And then they kept talking about the bite,” I said. “Like it was paperwork that hadn’t been filed.”
His face hardened. “That’s not what it is. I’ve wanted to claim you so badly I could barely think. But I knew you weren’t ready.”
I sat with that for a moment. The television was dark now. Our wineglasses sat empty on the table, and the suite had gone still around us. Through the baby monitor, Otto gave one soft sleeping sigh, and I pushed back from the table.
“I’m going to check him,” I said, even though I didn’t need to. I knew I didn’t need to.
Brakkus only nodded.
I opened the nursery door and looked in. Otto was asleep on his stomach in the crib, one hand curled beside his cheek, his blanket kicked down around his knees. I crossed the little room, pulled the blanket back over him, and waited until his breathing stayed even.
When I came back, Brakkus had not moved from the table.
I sat across from him again and touched the side of my neck. My body reacted to the thought of his mouth there, hot and immediate, which was wildly inconvenient after the day we’d had. But wanting him did not mean I was ready to be claimed by him.
“I know you still want to mark me,” I said. “But I still can’t accept your bite.”
Brakkus closed his eyes for half a second. “I know.”
“But I’m not leaving Otto until I know he’s thriving.”