Page 64 of The Perfect Secret

At Tess’s wide-eyed look, Hannah patted her back. “Well, practically. Anyway, the point I’m trying to make is if you need anything from the grocery store, I can get it.”

“Nope, we’re good for today.”

“Tomorrow too?”

“Yup.”

She gave Tess a last hug, tossed a glance toward the kitchen and left. Dan was being an ass. She didn’t know why or for how long, but as soon as he could string two sentences together without gasping in pain, she was getting answers.

Dan lay in bed that evening, listening to Tess putter in the kitchen. Okay, he hoped she was puttering, rather than whipping up a poison milkshake to murder him. The sounds coming from the direction of the kitchen sounded harmless enough. For now.

She was angry.

He saw it in the set of her shoulders, in her flashing brown eyes every time she looked at him, right before they switched over to a combination of fear and anxiety. The fact she could manage any anxiety at all, no matter how delayed, killed him.

After Hannah left, Tess had helped him hobble into the bedroom. He wasn’t sure who suffered more—Tess straining under his weight, or his pride for having to depend on his daughter. But they’d managed.

“I thought you’d be hungry. I made some scrambled eggs and toast,” she said without making eye contact. She’d found a tray and arranged his meal on it to look like something straight out of the 1950s. The eggs, which were fluffy and perfect, sat in the middle of the plate, which sat in the middle of the tray. To its right was a glass of orange juice; to its left was a small plate with toasted bread, buttered lightly. All it needed was a flower.

Dammit. His daughter was not supposed to be the caregiver.

“Thank you. I am.” He raised himself to a seated position and spread the blanket on his lap in order to put the tray on top of it.

“Oh, I forgot silverware and a napkin. I’ll be right back.”

After not eating breakfast or lunch, he was starving. The aroma from the food made his mouth water. She might be a kid, but she made mean scrambled eggs.

Returning to his room, she placed the silverware and napkin on his tray without making eye contact. He reached for her and she looked at their clasped hands. He waited. After a few moments, she met his gaze.

“Are you all right?” she asked. “Do you need something else?”

He needed Hannah. Despite what a bastard he’d been to her. That was the problem. “No, I’m fine. I feel better. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She tried to pull away, but he held on. She frowned.

His heart squeezed in his chest. “I want to thank you for all you did for me today, sweetheart. I know you were scared. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for scaring you, and for the way I treated Hannah.”

Uncertainty flickered in her expression, her chest heaved, her nostrils flared. He could see the gold flecks in the brown irises, the individual eyelashes curl from her lids, the arch of her eyebrows. She was losing her “little girl” look and he caught a glimpse of the woman she would be. His hand lifted of its own accord, to bring her toward him in a hug, but he paused mid-lift and lowered it on the bed. He couldn’t bear the rejection he knew he would get.

He could tell by the set of her shoulders she didn’t want a hug from him.

What he wouldn’t give to go back ten years when life made sense. Before Beth died and he’d fallen apart, when Tess had been a little girl and everything could be fixed with a kiss. This time, he couldn’t fix things. He couldn’t explain to Tess why he needed to send Hannah away—it would scare her. So he stayed quiet, to absorb Tess’s anger and hoped they could move past it together.

From outside, thunder boomed. They both jumped. Lightning flashed, and rain—the same rain that had hovered since yesterday, and had caused him such knee pain—pelted the window. Another clap sounded, another flash of lighting seared through the window.

“Storm broke.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded raspy. He cleared his throat.

Tess shuddered. “I hate the noise. I hate what you did to Hannah.”

He should explain…if he even had an explanation. But how could he discuss his fears about becoming addicted to Hannah to his little girl, who was growing up and would be trying to figure out her own way of loving someone soon?

Before he could figure out what to do, Tess rose and turned toward the door. With a wary glance out the window, she spoke. “I’ll let you eat in peace.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes I do. I’m Facetiming Lexi for homework. I have to go to the JCC to tutor.”

Dan’s stomach dropped. She was leaving. “You can’t go out now. You’ll get soaked.”