“You hungry?” Hana asked, hoping that the bulging, urine filled nappy would hold a minute longer while she enjoyed the proximity of her daughter.
“Yep,” Phoenix answered, but didn’t bounce up or wriggle, happy to stay cuddling.
A knock on the bedroom door made Hana’s heart skip, wondering if Logan had returned to talk to her. Why would he knock on his own bedroom door, i***t? By the time Leslie’s face appeared next to the furthest wooden post of the bed, another disappointment had been filed in the misery folder of Hana’s mind.
“Logan sent me up.” The old woman smiled down on mother and daughter with fondness, auburn hair mixing with black on the pillow. Hana looked away, hiding her anger poorly. So, she was still a prisoner of her husband’s insecurities and archaic world view.
“Get in
