Charming Hannah (Big Sky #1)(44)

“I’ll be cleaning glitter out of my house for weeks.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’ll bring back happy memories every time.”

She drags her fingertips down my face and her expression is suddenly serious.

“What is it?”

She shakes her head and breaks eye contact, looking at my hair as she runs her fingers through it.

I take her hand in mine and kiss her palm, then lay it against my cheek.

“Talk to me, Han.”

It’s quiet in the house. Dark, aside from the lights under the cabinets, setting the room in a low glow.

“You need to flip the pancakes,” she says and kisses my forehead before I move to the skillet and give them a flip. But before I can return to her, she jumps off the counter and retrieves two plates, the butter, and syrup, and the moment from a few moments ago is lost.

“I can’t believe how hungry I am,” she says.

“These three are ready.”

“Gimme.”

I put the pancakes on her plate and then pour two more for me, and turn to watch her slather butter and syrup all over her middle of the night snack.

“These are so good,” she says after taking a big bite. “Who knew sex could make a girl so hungry?”

“I’d better stock up on pancake mix.”

She winks at me, her mouth full.

“I plan to keep you starving.”

“Right on.”

When mine are finished, I turn off the skillet and join her at the table to eat with her. It’s a simple thing, having an after sex snack with her, but it’s intimate. It makes me feel closer to her.

I glance up in time to see her eyes are heavy.

“I think we’ve finally worn you out.”

She smiles softly. “Yeah. I’m tired.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask when she frowns.

“I have a bit of a headache. I hope I’m not developing migraines.”

I just shake my head and take my last bite. “You drank too much, that’s all.”

“Hmm.”

We put our dishes in the sink and I lead her to my bed, anxious to feel her skin on skin again.

“Why do you always think that something’s wrong?” I ask softly.

She thinks about it for a moment, her eyes closed.

“Because I know too much. About medicine. That’s what Drake says, anyway.”

“What do you think?”

“I think that it’s part of the anxiety. I worry.” She yawns. “I don’t think I’ve ever talked about this with anyone except Drake, and even he only knows a little of it.”

“I want to know everything about you,” I reply honestly. “Not to judge you, but to learn you.”

“I know. I feel the same.” She turns on her side and looks up at me. “Why does it always feel safer to talk about things in the dark?”

“Because we feel hidden here. Safe.”

“I guess so.” She scoots closer to me and threads her leg through mine. “I’ve always been a worrier. I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t. It’s probably a chemical imbalance. The anxiety, I mean. And there are meds I can take, but it’s been there for so long, I’m pretty good at managing it.”

“Hiding it,” I correct her.

“Tomato, tomahto,” she says with a smile. “Either way, I don’t feel like I need medicine. But there are going to be times that I’ll think I’m sick. Or that I have a disease. I’ll always wonder. I’ve asked colleagues to do full body scans before, just to give me peace of mind, but they usually laugh me off.”

“Sweetheart,” I murmur and kiss her forehead. “You’re a strong, healthy woman.”

“I know. The rational side of me knows that. I have no reason to believe otherwise. It’s like the bear thing, or the lake thing the other day. I know better, but I can’t change the thoughts.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t. And that’s okay. I’d rather you didn’t understand. But I appreciate you asking and not judging.”

“Can you tell me more about your parents?”

She frowns, but then shrugs. “Sure. What do you want to know?”

“You just didn’t say too much, other than your father killed your mother in an accident, and you haven’t seen him since.”

“That’s pretty much it.”

“But that doesn’t give me much information.”

“You could run his record,” she replies.

Oh, I have.

“That’s not personal either,” I remind her.

She sighs. “I honestly don’t think of him. Ever. I know that sounds heartless, but he wasn’t a great father, or even a nice person. At least, not that I remember. I remember him being drunk most of the time. He didn’t work because he couldn’t hold a job. Mom stressed out about money and me and everything else, and he just drank.

“I spent a lot of time with Abby and her parents, or at my friends’ homes. I preferred it, actually. He never hurt me. He didn’t hit me, or yell at me. He ignored me.”

“Sometimes that’s just as bad,” I reply, wanting to wrap her in my arms and protect her.