Page 64 of Whenever You Call

“That’s it,” I whispered. “Keep breathing like that.”

She nuzzled into my hand even more, and I heard a soft whimper before she swallowed it back down and licked her lips. Lips that were swollen because of her distress, tempting me more than ever before. I imagined pressing my mouth against hers and tasting her tears. I imagined kissing her back to life, my palms sliding over her shoulders until I had her neck cupped in my hands, her eyes fixed firmly on mine before I used my tongue to quieten every dark thought she’d ever had.

But I couldn’t be that guy for her.

I had to be this one instead.

The one who never got to touch her as more than a friend.

“Does that help?” I asked quietly, too afraid of her answer being yes, too scared of it being no.

“You always help. You have this way about you. It’s like you already know every part of me and know exactly what I need when I don’t even know I need it myself.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, hating the way I was leaning into her, ready to catch her should she fall. I shouldn’t be doing this. Things were going too far. We were getting too close.

Still, I couldn't have stopped if I’d wanted to.

And I really didn’t want to anymore.

I didn’t give a fuck if Cole’s ghost lingered nearby. He’d been the one to win the lottery of wives and daughters only to throw it all away. He’d been the one to make this sensational woman cry, breaking her into tiny pieces until she no longer felt whole. Right there, with her face pressed against my palm, I didn’t give a fuck about anyone or anything they had to say. The only thing that mattered was Hannah and figuring out a way to put all her broken pieces back together until she never remembered a time when she felt anything but whole.

Her lashes fluttered open to take me in.

We stared at each other for a minute, maybe more, as I watched her breaths steady into a pattern that didn’t frighten me so much. Until I saw her slowly coming back to life.

The pink in her cheeks bloomed thanks to something other than the tears, but I didn’t let her go. I wouldn’t. Not until she demanded I do.

“Better?”

“Better.” She smiled, even if that smile was filled with sadness.

“Good enough to make it to the kitchen so I can get you some water.”

“Sure.” She nodded feebly.

I wasn’t sure of the precise moment I thought it would be a good idea to slip my hand into hers, but en route to the kitchen, it had happened anyway, and Hannah’s fingers curled around mine, clinging onto me like I was the buoy keeping her afloat.

Chapter26

HANNAH

The last attack had been slow to start. It rose in my chest like a fire growing life until the pain around my heart erupted and I could no longer ignore it. The only saving grace was that it happened after I’d managed to get Bella to bed. She’d crashed hard from spending the afternoon by the pool. It had been just the two of us. A time I’d treasured, my soul full to bursting as she laid on the lounger beside me, her eyes on the clouds in the sky while she talked about her daddy as though he’d never left us. Like he was about to walk through the door after a long tour, wrap her up in his arms, and tell her she was the best thing he could ever come home to.

I’d listened to her every word. I’d hung off them, desperate for her to turnmynegative, angry emotions into something better.

I was starting to lose faith in my own memories—in my own judgment. It had been those few hours outside with Bella that had warned me that not everything had been how it seemed. There had been some good times, even if my daughter was the one to benefit from the majority of them. That was all that mattered in the end. Her happiness, and her memory of her father.

I wanted her to live with them for the rest of her forever.

Once I’d put her to bed, read her a story, and watched her fall asleep against my chest, the weight of everything had drifted over my body like a slow-erupting volcano, and that had led me to this moment in the kitchen, sitting next to Logan at the island, his hand resting over mine on the countertop.

“Is it right that another man’s company makes me feel better about losing the company of my husband?” I asked him, watching his reactions carefully.

“Would it matter if it was a woman?”

“I don’t suppose it would.”

“Then, why should it be any different with me?”

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