“She died four years ago.”
“Your father?”
“Still gone, as far as I know.”
“And the babies’ father?”
Silence.
The air changed.
Hannah’s fingers tightened around the blanket.
Ethan noticed.
“Is he involved?”
“No.”
“Does he know they were born?”
“No.”
“Should someone contact him?”
“No.”
“Hannah.”
“No.”
Her voice cracked this time.
Ethan stared at her.
“Did he hurt you?”
She looked confused.
Then angry.
“Who?”
“The father.”
“No.”
“Those bruises—”
“Stop trying to save me.”
“I already did.”
The answer came before he could soften it.
Hannah’s eyes flashed.
“Yes. You did. Congratulations.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know exactly what you meant.”
She pushed herself higher against the pillows and winced.
Ethan instinctively moved toward her.
“Don’t touch me.”
He stopped instantly.
For a moment, both looked at his outstretched hand.
He lowered it.
Hannah swallowed.
“You saved my life. I’m grateful. You saved my children. I’ll owe you for that forever. But whatever this is—”
