I reach down and scratch Arson’s ears. “Plus, even if he’s in a dead sleep, Arson will wake up to anything, and trust me when I say he will bark his head off to let us know before something happens. Promise.”
Hannah stands and sinks onto the couch, dropping her head into her hands. I grab my glasses from the floor and place them on my face before I sit down beside her. I slide my arm around her shoulders and pull her into my side. Herbody shudders as she sobs. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I don’t even know why I’m crying.”
“Probably because I scared the absolute shit out of you tonight,” I reply, pressing a kiss to her temple. I can’t help but touch her right now. I need it to ground me. “I probably did more damage than good then.”
She shakes her head as she leans into me, opening her eyes. The whites of her eyes are bloodshot and stained red, the blue a vibrant shade, totally contrasting to the redness. “I’m sorry,” she repeats.
“Stop it,” I say, cupping her cheek with my other hand, turning her face to meet me. Our foreheads are touching, breaths intermingling as I wipe away her tears. “You don’t need to apologize. The only thing we need to do is figure out a way to help you sleep.”
She nods against my forehead, squeezing her eyes shut as she inhales deeply through her nose, and exhales through her mouth slowly.
“Do you want me to sleep on the couch so I’m down here in case?” I ask, even though that’s the last thing I want to do. I want to be by her side.
“No,” she rushes to say. Taking another long breath, she continues, “I need you there with me.”
“Okay.”Thank god.
Without another word, she stands. “I’m going to get ready for bed.”
“Wait—” I reach for her, clasping her wrist in my hand. “Hannah, wait.”
“I need a minute, Thomas. Please.” She spins to face me, her eyes pleading, hands twisting in front of her.
I nod, letting her go. She heads upstairs, coming down a moment later with her pajamas and shower supplies. Shecloses the bathroom door behind her, and a minute later the shower starts up.
Alone, I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees and dropping my head into my hands. I am so frustrated with myself that I didn’t even take care of her well enough to make sure she was okay. I know she has anxiety, and I know this is a tough situation, so what the hell is wrong with me that I didn’t think to take an extra step for her?
27
HANNAH
The hot shower helps soothe my tight muscles and calm the remaining anxiety. It feels better, knowing that Thomas knows I didn’t sleep last night, or much the night before. We’ve barely been here three days, but it feels like much longer, probably due to my lack of sleep.
I wash my hair and body thoroughly, giving myself the extra time I need. In all honesty, I had no intention of sleeping tonight, so now that Thomas knows, I have a feeling he won’t sleep unless I do.
My fears seem silly when I lay them out. We are quite literally in the middle of nowhere, and I have a giant police dog sleeping at my legs. He and Thomas will do anything they can to keep us safe. I know that, rationally, but I don’t want them to have to protect me, that’s the problem. I don’t want the potential attack in the first place.Thatis what scares me.
I rinse out my hair and step out of the shower into the cool air of the bathroom. I shiver as I wrap myself in the towel.
There’s a knock on the door, then Thomas’s voice. “Hannah?”
I clear my throat before answering, “Yes?”
“I’m going outside with Arson for a few minutes.”
“Okay,” I reply, and I hear Thomas’s heavy footsteps as he leaves the cottage, the door opening and closing behind him.
I search my toiletries bag for the bottle I need. I haven’t taken this in a long time, but it might be the only thing that can get me to sleep tonight. I am not going to take it without talking to Thomas first, though. The medication helps when I have extremely bad anxiety attacks, but I don’t like to take it because it can make me very drowsy which would help in my favor at this time.
I find the bottle of hydroxyzine and set it on the counter, staring down at the small pills. It’s not true, Iknowit isn’t, but I don’t like to take these because it makes me feel like a failure. Like I wasn’t strong enough to calm myself down, and now I need help. Asking or needing help isn’t a failure, and I’ve been trying so hard to remember that, but sometimes, I can’t get past it.
Staring at the bottle, I towel-dry my hair and brush it before twisting it into a French braid down the middle of my head. I throw on my shirt and cotton shorts and hang the towel up on the hook behind the door.
The sound of the door opening and closing echoes in the main room, and I take a deep breath before exiting the bathroom.
Thomas is hanging up his red flannel on the coat stand as Arson bounds toward me. I lean down, giving him scratches as he croons his pleasure. Meanwhile, Thomas stands in the doorway, rocking on his heels with his hands in his pockets.
“How are you doing?” he asks.
