(The Right Kind of Wrong, Book 3)
SPOILERS FOR THE RIGHT KIND OF WRONG
After years in jail and endless guilt, Hannah Carson has a new shot at life. What will she do when she realizes that nothing is how it was? She has to start over; from having eve...
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Derek
Hannah was never good at asking for help.
Had it not been for the fact that I'd quickly picked up on Isa and Annie's schedule, I would have been left in the dark as far as when Hannah needed help.
I also realized in just the last twenty-four hours that if I slept in the room next door, Hannah wouldn't bother letting me know if she was having trouble. Being there was my priority, so I decided that sleeping on the uncomfortable sofa in her bedroom was the best choice. I'd be there for when our daughters woke up, and would help Hannah rest. Her incision was still healing and though she never complained, I knew she must have still been in pain.
For the weekend, Evie and Nathan had been around so it hadn't been too awkward for us other than nights. However, it was finally time to do it alone and I had no clue how the hell it was going to work.
I could sense the turmoil in Hannah's head every time we were alone, every time she glanced my way. She'd smile or speak to me, but I could see the lingering doubt.
I watched as she somehow managed to feed both girls at the same time, finding a new admiration for her. Visibly exhausted, Hannah still managed to make it all seem graceful. Easy. Most ironic, was that she didn't complain. Her eyes shone with love and devotion every time she held our girls, like they were absolutely everything to her, and they were. Just like they were now to me.
There was not much I could do while Hannah fed them, so I opted to pick up the things and organize them the best way that I could in order to make them easier to find. Once she was done feeding them, I went ahead and changed their diaper so they'd nap. Hannah thanked me quietly, holding a pillow against her body. She rested her head against the bed's headboard, her eyes fluttering closed as she struggled to stay awake.
"Go to sleep," I said, taking a seat next to her on the bed.
Hannah shook her head. Stubborn as always, she refused to rest. "It's okay. I need to be up if they wake up."
My fingers twitched.
I wanted to caress her face, feel the softness of her skin under my fingertips. Hold her and comfort her.
Instead, all I could do was try to reassure her.
"I'll wake you up." I hardly recognized the tone in my voice. There were things I wanted to tell her - how deeply I admired her. How thankful I was for the gift she gave me, my daughters without deserving them. "Just rest, Hannah."
Too tired to argue, Hannah shifted on the bed, lying down with her head somewhat raised. I didn't wait for her to try and cover herself up, lifting the blanket over her body.
