Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“I’ll drive you,” I offered.
Helen looked behind her. “The mess,” she gasped.
Her husband kissed her. “I’ll clean it later. We have to meet our girl now.”
She smiled at him, her love brimming in her eyes. “Our girl. Yes.”
He guided her to the table. “You sit, and I’ll be right back.”
She smiled at me. “I’m so sorry to cause you all this trouble.”
“No. It’s fine. I’m glad it was all a mistake.”
She nodded. “Warren would never hurt me or even get mad at me. He’s incredible. He was trying to get me to stop cleaning, and he was going to take me for fritters at Zeke’s.”
“Oh, those are good.”
“Better than what I was attempting to make.” Her eyes went wide. “Oh, another contraction.”
“Those are fast,” Warren said, coming into the kitchen. “I called the doctor. He’ll meet us there. I got you a clean shirt to wear.”
Jesse returned. He’d called in the report and talked to the neighbor. He spoke to me quietly. “You take them to the hospital. I’m going to stay here and see if I can rehang that pot rack. The neighbor is going to come over and help clean up.”
“Great idea.”
He grinned. “I know what life with a newborn is like. They don’t need that added stress. It’s quiet out tonight aside from this unexpected call.”
“Yeah. I’ll do a couple drives in your area.”
“Thanks.” He paused. “You okay, Hannah? You look really pale.”
“Just tired.”
“Okay. Be safe out there.”
I nodded. “You know it.”
I got Warren and Helen to the hospital, listening to him coaching her to breathe and relax.
“I can’t relax,” she informed him. “Your daughter is determined to come now!”
I radioed ahead, and they were waiting for us. I watched them go, smiling at his fussing and her quarreling with him. I returned to my car and pulled into an empty spot in the parking lot. The rain beat down on the hood, its steady rhythm peaceful. I drew in a long breath, letting it out slowly. My hands still trembled, and I was tense. I told myself I was fine. Everything was fine. The call was a false alarm. An amusing story to tell one day.
But today wasn’t it. I kept seeing another door. Another couple. A different scenario.
I shut my eyes and did all the tricks my therapist had taught me. I counted. Concentrated on my breathing. Tried to think of good things. Spoke out loud, reminding myself everything was fine. Today was a different day. I did that until I felt calmer. Then I radioed in and pulled out of the parking lot, praying I would remain calm until my shift ended.
By the time I got home, I was shaking again. Tamping down the panicked feeling in order to get my key into the lock and get inside. I shut the door behind myself, pressing my back against it. I was home. I was safe. Chase was here.
I let my coat fall to the floor. I had changed at the station, locking my gun in my locker. I rarely brought it home. I kicked off my shoes, taking a deep breath in. Chase came from the kitchen, stopping in confusion when he saw me.
“Hannah.” He rushed toward me. “Baby, what’s wrong? What is it?”
With a sob, I launched myself at him. He wrapped his good arm around me, holding me close. “Hannah, are you hurt?” he asked, panicked. “Can you tell me?”
I shook my head, unable to stop crying. He led us to the sofa, sitting down and cradling me on his lap. He held me tight, running his hand over my head repeatedly. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he murmured. “I’m here. You’re safe. I have you.”
Relief swelled, making me cry harder for a moment. He let me sob, making hushing noises and whispering that everything was okay until I began to calm down. He pressed some tissues into my hand, and I wiped at my face. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I-I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m here, Hannah. Tell me what happened,” he urged.
I told him everything. The call. The sudden fear. How it lingered. “I thought I was over it,” I admitted. “But I’m not.”
“I’m not sure you can ever ‘get over’ something as traumatic as that,” he murmured, cupping my face.
I looked at him, seeing only understanding and caring on his face. “If it had been a real domestic violence call, my fears could have kept me from acting in time,” I whispered. “I was so scared, Chase.”
“You need to talk to someone,” he said. “I think you left therapy too quickly.”
“I felt so ashamed after. As if I was a coward.”
“No.” He cupped my face. “You are anything but. A very wise and beautiful woman once told me that it takes a great deal of strength to admit your fear. You’re admitting them. You’re feeling them.” His grip tightened. “Maybe your fears are trying to tell you something, baby.”