“I’ll be fine. Thanks for the food, Maggie, I really appreciate it,” I say sincerely.
“Anything you need, just ask, okay? Your father was a good man, Hannah. Never doubt that.” She steps back, holding my hands in her own. Her eyes are watery and sad.
“I know, but thanks for saying it.” I give her a weak smile as a vice grips my heart. I need to hold on to that. He was a very goodman; I can’t allow myself to believe otherwise. I can’t think about the last time I heard his voice and how angry I was.
“How’s Mom doing?” she asks with concern.
Shrugging my shoulder, I share my fears. “Not good and I’m worried. She’s barely speaking to me. I have been encouraging her to eat and drink but,” I trail off, looking to the ceiling as my eyes well with tears again.
Maggie pulls me back into a hug. “I’ll talk to her and see if I can get some food into her. You don’t have to do this alone, Hannah; she has friends that can support you both.”
Stepping back, I wipe a stray tear and smile softly. “Thank you, Maggie, I really appreciate your friendship and support. I know Mom will too.”
Officer Kent returns in the evening to give us an update. Just as they suspected, the accident was just that, a complete accident, brought on by icy road conditions. There was no sign that he was traveling at an unusually high speed on the quiet country road. The toxicology will figure out if there were any drugs or alcohol in his bloodstream. Though we know there won’t be, it’s just a formality.
His phone, that may have given us some insight into my father’s personal life, was destroyed in the crash. I can’t bear to think that we were the last people he spoke with, or even worse, that talking to us caused the accident.
After thanking him for stopping by, I shut the door behind him and lean my forehead against it. My heart feels heavy with sorrow. My lungs feel like I can’t take a deep enough breath.
Logan meets me in the hall and pulls me into a much-needed hug.
“How are you doing? Can I get you anything?” he asks while swaying us slowly.
“You should try and eat something with some nutrition. You can’t live off sugar and caffeine.”
“I don’t want anything,” I say, closing my eyes and burying my face in his shirt.
“Okay, I’ll let it go tonight.” I feel him press a light kiss to the top of my head.
“You are the strongest person I know, but you don’t have to be right now, okay?” I don’t need to respond. I just nod into his chest.
“How about you go upstairs and take a bath. I don’t imagine anyone else will stop by, so I’ll make sure the doors are locked, then come up. Maybe we can watch a movie.”
“Okay. A bath sounds good.” I stand there, not sure what I am waiting for.
Logan kisses me softly and turns me around directing me towards the stairs. “Go. I’ll be up soon, yeah?”
“Okay. I’m going.” I slowly make my way to my room and start undressing, dropping my clothes on the floor as I go. I reach the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. How is this happening? Not even 36 hours ago I was thinking about end of the year assignments and preparing for exams. I had no plans to come home for the summer. I was happy with the life I was living. Now everything has changed in the blink of an eye. It feels selfish to think about how much my life has been impacted when my mom is struggling so badly. I just feel devastated by all of it.
How could he do this to us? I have so many conflicting feelings. My anger makes me feel so much guilt. I wish I could go back and change everything about our last call.
Slowly, I drop to the tile floor and lean my back against the cool porcelain tub. I pull my knees to my chest, drop my head and start to cry. I’m not sure how long I am there before I feel Logan sit down beside me. He gently pulls me over his body so I’m straddling his lap. I rest my head on his chest and continue to cry as he holds the back of my head and wipes tears away from my face.
Without a word he helps me rise. Once he knows I am steady, he turns to fill up the bathtub pouring a generous amount of the pomegranate bubble bath I love into the water. He checks the temperature before he begins to undress.
“What are you doing?” I whisper as he removes his own clothes and throws them in the hamper.
“Taking care of my girl.”
Turning off the tap, he steps in first, extending his hand inviting me to join him. As I do, he lowers himself into the steamy water, adjusting his body so I can sit between his legs.
“Talk to me, Hannah. What can I do? How can I help?”
“You are already doing it. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. There is no other place I want to be.” He gathers my hair and secures it on top of my head with the elastic band he wears on his own wrist. I am always losing mine, so it became a habit for him to keep one. He picks up the soap, lathers it in his hands and lovingly washes my body. Firm, soft hands caressing my skin, washing the day away. This feels incredibly intimate without being sexual. He makes me feel cherished.
Sighing, I close my eyes.
