Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
“Get her tea,” Beau ordered Elliot. “Water, painkillers.” He turned to me. “I’m going to run your bath.”
I tilted my head up at him, trying to keep my face blank as my knees struggled to stop shaking. “I don’t need you to run a bath for me. I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.”
“I didn’t ask if you were capable,” he muttered. “On the couch.” He pointed then turned down the hall without a second glance. I watched him leave.
“He’s bossy.” I turned to Elliot, who was watching with an amused, satisfied smile on his face.
“He cares,” he amended. “He just happens to show it by being bossy. However, I’ll echo my brother’s sentiment. Rest.” He slanted his head to the couch. “I’ll make you tea and get painkillers.”
I relented only because this fussing by the two Shaw men was overwhelming. And I did feel tired.
Sitting on the couch, I fired off a text to Lori.
Please update me on you and the baby when you can.
The response was immediate.
Baby and I are both fine. Although a caveman police chief is currently torturing us.
I pursed my lips in a smile, hoping that Lori might get that fairy-tale ending she didn’t believe in, even if it looked a little different than it did in the stories.
Me, on the other hand? I knew I wouldn’t get mine, despite the way Beau was acting tonight.
It was temporary. All of it.
I forced that thought into my pulsing brain.
Beau was not my forever.
I wasn’t that lucky.
twelve
HANNAH
“We don’t have to go.”
“Of course, we’re going.” I decided not to address yet another mention of the royal we. I couldn’t.
Beau and I were discussing the Halloween party as I steamed Clara’s dress. Yes, it might’ve been a little extra to steam a Halloween costume, but I wanted it to be perfect. This was the first and last Halloween I’d have with Clara. With Beau.
“Hannah, you were in a fucking car accident yesterday,” the man in question exclaimed roughly.
I finished with the steamer, switching it off and turning to Beau. Not before taking a calming breath. “I was in a fender bender,” I corrected him.
“Fender benders don’t involve totaled cars and fucking concussions,” he returned, his gaze on my head.
He’d been like that all day, watching me, gruff and overprotective.
After I’d had a bath last night—a bath he’d drawn me—I’d put on soft PJs and fallen into bed, exhausted. I didn’t even have the energy to say good night to Beau or Elliot, probably a good thing because I couldn’t handle the strange energy emanating from them both.
I’d woken at some time in the night, certain there was a shape in the chair across my room.
“Beau?” I’d murmured, hoping it was him since it was a man-sized shape, and I really didn’t want it to be some intruder.
“Go back to sleep,” came the voice.
It was rough but comforting. My body relaxed at the sound of it, the subtle smell of juniper wafting over me.
I was definitely dreaming.
When I woke in the morning, the chair was empty. I couldn’t be sure I’d dreamed it, since the clothes that had been lying on said chair in question were neatly folded on my dresser.
I didn’t think about that.
Luckily, Clara helped distract me. She had been up before me, too excited about Halloween to sleep.
She’d been appropriately concerned about the small cut on my head, having been filled in by Beau on the accident. Her tiny hands had trailed over it with an extraordinary gentleness that had made my eyes well. She laid a special kiss on it then had ensured I “take it easy” while she fussed over me.
Then there was Beau.
Cursing more than I’d ever heard. Constantly watching me, keeping track of when I could have my next dose of painkillers.
In my mind, I went over the man he was the night before. Furious, violent, intense. Not afraid to touch me. Before, he had been so careful not to even share the same air as me.
He had not reverted back entirely, but I could feel the distance between us like a gaping chasm.
Trying to figure out what was going on between us—if anything was even going on—was going to do nothing but make my head hurt. So I focused on Clara, got her in her costume, then put on mine so we could head to Nora’s party. That was after I’d won the argument with Beau about going at all.
“Wow!” Clara lit up when I finished the braids on her wig, twirling in the dress I’d made.
It was pretty impressive, if I did say so myself. My sewing skills had been born out of necessity. My mother didn’t bother with buying me clothes. There often wasn’t money when I grew out of things, ripped them. Thankfully, the grandmother I never met had left an old sewing machine in a storage closet. I’d unearthed it then checked out books on sewing and patterns at the library.