Page 71 of Saving Little Lina: Part One

In the hush that followed, the steady tick-tock of the wall clock resonated through the room. The quiet was comfortable, comforting even, filled with the promise of rest and recovery.

"Why...?" I found myself whispering into the silence, the words slipping past my lips before I could second-guess them.

"Why what, sweetheart?" Hank's voice was a soothing rumble, the vibrations lulling me further into the peaceful cocoon of sleep.

"Why are you so kind? Why did you take care of me like this?" I asked, the question borne of a raw honesty that only the quiet of the night could coax from me.

The room was still, the distant whistle of the wind against the windows being the only discernible sound. Hank took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling against mine, the rhythm soothing in its predictability.

"You know," he began. "I wasn't always this way. Kind, as you put it."

I felt him shift slightly, the quiet rustling of the sheets punctuating his words. I tightened my grip on the plush wolf he had gifted me earlier, waiting for him to continue.

"When I was about eight," he began again. "I fell terribly ill, something similar to what you went through today. It was bad, the kind of fever that makes your entire world spin, and I was so young. Our parents were too busy, engrossed in their careers. They left the responsibility to my older brother. Patrick, he was my guardian angel. He took care of me like I was the most precious thing in the world. He taught me to be kind and patient. Now that he’s gone, I try to be kind to everyone I meet. But in everyone I meet, I see him."

"Hank," I began, my voice choked with gratitude. "Thank you for trusting me with this."

A soft chuckle emanated from him, the sound rumbling through his chest, resonating against my ear. "You're welcome."

I found myself lifting his hand, pressing a tender kiss against his skin. His fingers curled around mine. As I snuggled closer into him, the rhythmic ebb and flow of his breathing became my world. And as sleep finally claimed me, I knew that I had never felt safer, nor more cherished.

Next morning, soft tendrils of dawn seeped in through the gap in the curtains, painting the room with a gentle light. As I blinked my eyes open, a delicious aroma snaked its way. Sitting up, I watched Hank approach, a breakfast tray nestled securely in his hands.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he greeted, his voice warm, the smile in his eyes even warmer.

I grinned, stretching my arms above my head before settling back against the fluffy pillows. "Someone's been busy," I teased, my gaze traveling over the tray he set on my lap.

Pancakes crafted into teddy bear shapes grinned up at me, the bowl of warm, honey-drizzled oatmeal providing a comforting aroma that filled the air.

"I decided to stick around overnight. Wanted to make sure your fever didn't make a surprise comeback."

"Oh, you worrywart," I teased, aiming a playful swat at his arm. "One of these days, you'll turn into a ball of anxiety."

"Hey, one of us has to be the responsible adult here."

"Wow, this is amazing! I didn't know you had it in you," I said, grinning cheekily at him. "That cookbook I recommended came in handy, huh?"

"Well, every good Daddy needs to know his way around the kitchen, doesn't he?"

We finished breakfast in comfortable silence. As we cleared the dishes, Hank straightened, ruffling my hair lightly.

"I have to go, princess. We have our playdate with your friends in the park later, remember?" he reminded, his voice tender.

I beamed, my heart warming at the thought. "You know, even though our official playdate is yet to happen, I thoroughly enjoyed our impromptu one yesterday."

He grinned back, a spark of delight igniting in his eyes. "Well, consider this a preview. The main event is yet to come."

I followed as he moved towards the door, watching as he pulled on his coat. Hank leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss on my lips, the contact sparking a wave of warmth that traveled all the way to my toes.

"See you soon."

Chapter 23: Lina

Warm rays of the sun caressed my cheeks, a sharp contrast to the soothing coolness of Hank’s denim-clad lap under my head. My fingers toyed with the neon-pink binky I held, pressing it against my lips, the soft silicone comforting as always. Around us, the park buzzed with life, laughter, chatter, and the irresistible aroma of barbecued food.

I murmured against my binky, "Isn't it wonderful how we can be ourselves here? Without judgment, without fear?"

Hank’s hand stroked through my hair, his fingers untangling the wind-caught strands. "This place, it's special. Your Uncle Nick made sure of it."

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