Hana Du Rose

CHAPTER TWO-3

“What?” Logan scooted forward so fast; he tumbled from the bed and landed on the floor. Hana heard the bump and watched in horror as his hands gripped the mattress and he hauled himself upright.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she whined for the second time that night. “But you fell asleep and stopped breathing!”

“I didn’t sleep, woman! I was trying not to snore.” Logan rubbed his painful eye. “I need danger money to go to bed with you!”

“Thanks,” Hana grumbled. “I’ve said I’m sorry.”

Logan clambered into bed and they settled again. He clung to the furthest edge of the bed and Hana wriggled around in the ridiculous towel. She determined to stay awake until she could enjoy a shower without waking the whole hotel, but sleep took her anyway. Her dream plunged her into forgotten memories of Logan and the worst day of her life. The day she lost everything.

The Circle Line tube train slid through the tunnels of the London Underground at terrifying speeds. Hana glanced down at the filthy seat and focused her attention on a ratty hole between her and Vik. He shifted next to her, concentrating on dabbing nasty cuts on his dark eyebrow and lip. Both continued to ooze. Hana felt the knot in her chest and the tears on her cheeks. Her father’s words rang in her brain. w***e. s**t. Disgrace. They melded together as a damning sentence, condemning her to burn in Hell. Her tears blurred the vision of her brother’s angry fists pummeling Vik and she heaved in a breath. Hana reached out a hand and touched his thigh, wanting to connect with him. He shrugged her off and continued his dabbing.

The child in her womb jabbed an elbow into her ribs and Hana inhaled with pain. Despite everything, she loved the baby already and smoothed her fingers across the yellow fabric of her dress. The hard crown of a skull moved beneath her hand, offering reassurance and invoking a primeval sense of maternalism.

“The next station is Earl’s Court. Due to maintenance works please change here for Ealing, Ruislip and Heathrow.” Hana jumped at the voice issuing from the speaker above her head. She glanced sideways at Vik and he shook his head. Not this stop. She blew through pursed lips, wondering how much more misery she could take in one day. The memory of the sadness in her mother’s eyes haunted her. She needed to know what to expect from Vik’s Sikh family but he wouldn’t meet her gaze.

The woman in the seats opposite reached into her pocket and drew out a handkerchief. Hana watched her through lowered lashes, scrubbing at her nose with her hand. Thick foundation covered a patch of swirls on the woman’s chin and they fascinated her. Decorum dictated she look away and she forced herself. “Here, kōtiro.” The woman leaned across and held out the handkerchief. She lifted her other hand and pointed to grey eyes which glittered in her own face. “Take it,” she said and flapped the pale blue cloth.

Hana swallowed and reached out a shaking hand. She nodded in thanks and lifted the soft triangle of fabric to her eyes. The teenage boy shifted in his seat and frowned, removing his gaze from Hana and glancing sideways at the woman. He opened his mouth to speak and she shook her head. Dark curls identical to his slid from a bun at her nape. He closed his lips and his jaw flexed. His gaze settled back on Hana, intense and searching. Grey eyes bored into her soul and she shut him out, numbing herself against any more feelings as she looked away. She studied the underground map above the teenager’s head and fear rose as they drew closer to their destination. To lose one family could be classed as careless but two would be foolish. As the speaker sounded above her head, announcing the end of life as she knew it, Hana opened her mouth and screamed.

“Hana, no, Hana. Geez, what’s wrong?”

She gulped for air and batted his chest with her fists. It made no impact and Logan held her tighter. “The train,” Hana garbled, running a hand over her flat stomach and reeling back in confusion. “It’s gone.”

“What train?” Logan soothed her with kisses to her cheeks. His body curled around her, forming a cage of protection.

“The baby’s gone,” Hana gasped and her fingers fluttered over her stomach.

“Shhhh.” Logan held her and let her surface from sleep, asking no more questions which taxed his ability to understand the muddled answers. “You’re safe,” he whispered. “No trains, no babies. Just me and you.” His fingers traced gentle circles across her bare back and shoulders. “Lie down.” He pulled her with him as he lay back against the pillows, hauling her on top and covering them with the sheets.

Hana felt her heart rate slow and heaved out a breath, resting her cheek against the downy hair of Logan’s chest. “I have nightmares,” she whispered, her voice sounding cracked and strained. “I forgot to tell you.”

“It’s okay.” Logan kissed the top of her head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The words sounded good to Hana’s fractured heart and she pressed her lips against his chest. “Take my mind off it,” she demanded, curling her fingers around the back of his neck.

Hana woke late to the sound of rain beating hard on the side of the building and spurting in rivulets down the windows. She opened her eyes with deliberate slowness, distracted by the sight of her unused nightdress draped over the headboard. Logan lay on his side facing away from her and Hana absorbed the warmth from his long back. The scratchy hotel towel felt bunched and uncomfortable beneath her hip.

With precise movements, Hana reached up and tugged at the corner of her silky nightdress, careful not to move the mattress. The material slithered down, landing over her face and making her stifle a sneeze. Slipping from the bed backwards, she slid into her nightie, feeling relief as she covered up the scars of motherhood. Her bladder urged her to seek the ensuite bathroom and she tiptoed around the bed, her eyes widening as Logan snuffled in his sleep. Too late she noticed his cowboy boots sticking out from under the bed. They winked out from beneath his discarded boxer shorts and Hana let out a yelp of pain as she hit the floorboards. “Oh!” she groaned, cradling her wrist in the other hand.

She heard Logan stir and winced, grappling for something to haul herself upright. Thinking she’d grabbed the footboard she pulled, hitting the ground a second time as swathes of duvet cover and sheets landed on her head.

“What are you doing, wahine?” Logan demanded, yanking the duvet off her face. Hana glanced up at his glorious nakedness and groaned with embarrassment. She buried her face in the crook of her good arm and cradled her wrist against her chest. “Hana?” He seized her by the shoulders and gave her a shake. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, her cheeks flushed pink. “Why did you marry me?” she whimpered.

Logan snorted and his lips curved upwards in amusement. “Because I love you and you’re entertaining.” He shivered and scooped her into his arms, lifting her without effort. “And now I’m freezing.” His gaze darted sideways towards the bathroom and he smirked. “How about our first hot shower together?”

Hana gave a tiny nod and narrowed her eyes. “As long as you don’t look too hard at my body.”

Logan threw his head back and laughed. “I’ve got a licence which says I can look at whatever I want.” Long strides took them towards the door. He set her on her feet and his brows knitted into a dark line. “Hana, why is your nightdress inside out?”