Between Limestone Ruins

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Hannah had been released quickly from the Kingston hospital and, trusting Walker on his word to become Hannah's nursemaid until she fully recovered, her family went their separate ways, each calling her twice within the hour immediately following their departure.

Hannah was eager to finally have a minute to herself; she knew there was a lot more healing to do in order to cope with what had happened in the last few days. To be honest just thinking about the past 48 hours made her head spin. As she had watched Kingston shrink into the distance out the small plane window a weight she didn't know she had lifted off her chest.  Hannah let her head fall onto Walker's shoulder. 

Walker had been adeptly answering emails on his phone with one hand, while the other one tangled firmly with Hannah's. She wondered then if she was going to have to wrench that hand off hers with a pry-bar eventually, he hadn't left her side since the Ethan debacle at the hospital. For now she appreciated the gentle pressure sending calming waves over her entire being.

Once they landed in Ottawa, they caught an Uber to Walker's apartment where he packed a duffle bag in three minutes flat before ushering Hannah out the door. Hannah didn't have the energy to care about his thoughts. If he wanted to stay at her place then she was pleased to have him. 

The next few days passed in a blur. Hannah spent most of her time in bed, except when Walker dragged her outside for their daily walk. Although Hannah had never had such a hard time with her depression, the trauma of the last few weeks mixing with her mental illness spectacularly, Walker's gentle and protective love never wavered. His calloused hand always seemed to be subtly sliding into Hannah's when she began to feel panicky or overwhelmed. His arms encircled her in safety as she startled awake from every nightmare. He had become such a warm comforting presence despite never letting his gruff exterior drop.

He was so gentle, so cautious. He didn't speak much to Hannah besides insisting she sleep and eat. Or that it was time for their walk. They even walked in silence. Hannah spent a good amount of sobbing in bed, which could account for some of Walker's hesitant behaviour.

She was thankful for his help. She needed a lot of help. Hannah was still in excruciating pain, though she tried to hide most of it. Walker was already helping with so much, she didn't want to complain.

Walker was so helpful. He showed such a tender kindness she hadn't expected from him. Hannah joked to herself that watching her almost die twice probably scared all the mean out of the bitter guy, but she knew that wasn't it. He was scared of hurting her, physically or emotionally. Hannah was so fragile that even the barest touch could shatter her. Feeling like a china doll was starting to piss Hannah the hell off. 

Walker had been sleeping on her couch. He held her in her bed through the nightmares but he always slept on the couch. Hannah didn't even know if he was sleeping; the dark purple shadows under his eyes he developed at the hospital only seemed to grow darker. If she asked how he was doing he always replied the same way: 

"I'm fine, sunshine. You need to rest." 

And then the conversation was over. The sexual tension had never been thicker. 

They'd been skirting around each other for four days now in a two-bedroom apartment and Hannah was at her breaking point. 

She stood in her bathroom in a towel, staring at her foggy reflection in the mirror. The bruises no longer bloomed through the fog, hidden completely in the haze. That was progress. 

She dried off her body in a zombie-like haze and pulled on a clean, comfy matching underwear set. Maybe if she dressed like she had her shit back together her shit would begin to get more together. The damp towel streaked water across the mirror as Hannah wiped away the fog.