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Chapter Two
Hannah
“Tell me, Hannah, what did you agree to only hours ago?”
“That I would give up control to you.”
“Did that control have any conditions? Any limitations?”
I couldn’t help but think maybe I should have been a bit more hesitant to offer what I had, but it had seemed like such a good idea at the time. I had been at the breaking point, stressed beyond belief, having no control over my emotions, and when Brett had offered to help, to guide me, to take care of me, I’d jumped at the chance. It wasn’t like we hadn’t discussed it before. We had, several times. Yet, I’d always pulled back, afraid that what he assured me would be a solution wouldn’t be. Finally, I’d taken that step and this was the result of that choice.
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No, I don’t remember any conditions.”
He didn’t respond except to lift his eyebrow.
“Um, no limitations?”
Who knew an already lifted eyebrow could arch higher? I shifted my weight, wondering what I was missing and then tried again.
“No, sir?” His nod and relaxed brow told me I’d finally gotten it right.
“That’s correct. But the very first time I take control, refuse to allow you to get yourself into another situation that will drive you crazy, how do you react?”
I could lie but was pretty sure that would only land me in hotter water. “I wasn’t happy.”
Brett shook his head. “That’s putting it lightly. You were far more than unhappy. You were extremely vocal. I’m sure many people heard you misquote the Bill of Rights, adding nonexistent clauses to the first amendment about the right to do whatever you want, say whatever you want, and accusing me of being… what was the term? Oh, yes—a bloody tyrant.”
It sounded so much worse coming from his lips. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“No?” His eyebrow lifted again, and I had to consciously fight the urge to squirm. “What you meant was that you’d honor your commitment when and if it was convenient for you. If it didn’t interfere with your plans and if it didn’t include anything but my concurrence. Well, those days are over. There is a new declaration in this household, and it states that I will decide when you are in over your head. I love you, Hannah, but I do not love the fact that you are already reneging on our agreement.”
“I’m not—”
“That’s right, you’re not because I won’t allow it. You asked for help. Your life has been spinning out of control for months. Every time I try to curtail you, you assure me you’ve got it handled—”
“I do! I might seem a bit scatterbrained, but just because I’m not some sort of military robot doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing! I do handle things!”
A bit taken back when he didn’t respond but took my hand instead, I could only walk beside him as he took me into the dining room.
“This is handling things?”
The entire surface of the table was covered. My laptop stood open on one end, surrounded by papers. Baskets and items to go in them were strewn across the table. Cups, plates, and bowls sat on top of several folders serving as impromptu paperweights from where I’d eaten while working on projects. Chairs were pulled away from the table so that more papers and boxes could be piled onto them.
“I’m working on the welcoming party for the new families. I need to have everything where I can get to it easily.”
He reached into a box and pulled out a t-shirt, holding it up. “And these?”
“Those are for the 5K run in a few weeks.”
“I thought Stephanie Carter was responsible for the t-shirts.”
“She was, but I didn’t think the design was… um… creative enough, so I decided to do them myself.”
“I see.” Dropping the shirt back in the box, he took my hand again and led me toward the spare bedroom. I couldn’t help but notice his foot had kicked away a wadded-up sheet of paper—one of many that had fallen out of the overstuffed wastepaper basket. Opening the door of the guestroom, he waved his hand.
