31. Hannah
Hannah
Otto had fallen asleep somewhere along the drive home. His head lolled against the side of his car seat; one small fist curled around the edge of his blanket. As we passed through the estate’s front gate, he shifted in his seat and settled back to sleep.
The driveway curved through the live oaks, past the raw limestone and the dry grass shining gold in the afternoon light. The house came into view at the top of the hill, pale and broad and familiar enough to make my chest hurt.
I remembered when I left for my dad’s house.
Now I was coming back with Otto asleep behind me and Brakkus quiet in the driver’s seat, one big hand steady on the wheel.
He had given me space the whole trip home.
He handled practical things without acting like our talk in the inn meant anything had changed between us.
I’d taken a leave of absence from Austin Family Caregivers and was now receiving my salary directly from Brakkus.
We were still technically employer and employee, but since I was not breaking any explicit rules with my previous employer, I felt safe to return to the estate until I was sure Otto was okay.
The issue of our relationship still hung in the air.
After the hearing, it was clear that I was in fact Brakkus’s second mate.
But the question remained whether he was my first.
He parked by the front walk and turned off the engine. For a moment, none of us moved as the quiet settled around us. Then Otto stirred in his car seat and the stillness broke.
“I’ve got him,” I said softly.
Brakkus nodded and grabbed the diaper bag while I unbuckled Otto. I slipped my arms under him and lifted him out of the car seat. Brakkus opened the front door and stepped aside for me to walk through.
I took Otto to the nursery, laid him on the changing table, unsnapped his little travel outfit, and quickly changed his diaper. By the time I had him changed, he had perked up enough to eat dinner. Behind us, Brakkus set the diaper bag just inside the nursery door.
Lola had dinner ready on the kitchen table. There was a warm pan of enchiladas, rice in a covered bowl, cut fruit, and soft vegetables already set aside for Otto. The whole kitchen smelled like tomato sauce, melted cheese, and cumin. My stomach remembered I had barely eaten anything since morning.
“Eat while it’s hot,” Lola said, already taking off her apron. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Lola,” I said.
Brakkus told her good night from the cabinet, where he was pulling down Otto’s clean sippy cup.
I settled Otto into his high chair and reached for the little plate Lola had made for him.
I cut the enchilada into tiny pieces, tested the vegetables with the side of my finger, and blew on a bite of rice before setting it on his tray.
Brakkus came around me with Otto’s bib, fastened it around his neck, filled the sippy cup with milk, then set two glasses of iced tea on the table.
“God, I’m happy to be back in Texas,” he said as he sat.
I laughed before I could help it. “Was it the smell of enchiladas that did it?”
“Basically.”
Otto grabbed a fistful of rice and shoved it into his mouth. “Go,” he said, very serious about it.
“Yes, go,” I said, nudging a piece of soft carrot closer to his hand. “Dinner is definitely a go.”
Brakkus looked across the table at me, then down at Otto making a spectacular mess in the high chair. He smiled.
After dinner, I carried Otto down the hall while Brakkus followed. By the time we reached the nursery bathroom, Otto had gone loose and heavy against me. His little head rolled onto my shoulder, then popped back up when Brakkus reached for him.
He sat on the closed toilet lid with Otto in his lap and started working him out of his clothes. Otto rubbed both eyes, then shoved two fingers into his mouth and chewed on them while I turned on the bathwater.
“Almost done, buddy,” I said.
The tub filled, and I swished my hand through the water to check the temperature. I dropped a few bath toys in, and Otto watched them bob with sleepy interest.
“Temperature good?” Brakkus asked.
“It’s ready.”
He stood with Otto tucked carefully against his chest, then lowered him into the water. Otto made one offended sound on principle, kicked both feet, and slapped the surface hard enough to splash the front of Brakkus’s shirt.
The bath lasted maybe five minutes after that.
Otto splashed once more, whined when I rinsed his hair, and reached for Brakkus with both wet arms as soon as I was done.
Brakkus already had the towel open. He wrapped Otto before the air could chill his skin, kissed his damp hair, and carried him to the changing table.
I pulled pajamas from the drawer while Brakkus got him into a clean diaper. Otto squirmed through one sleeve, rubbed at his tusk, and made a tired little fuss when I zipped him up.
“I know,” I murmured, lifting him against me.
Brakkus opened the tube of tusk ointment and rubbed a careful dab along Otto’s gums. Otto grumbled once, then relaxed. When I lowered him into the crib, his eyes were already half closed.