Drake Sisters 05 - Safe Harbor

her eyes wide and hurt. "There are so many of them. I had no idea there would be so many."
    He leaned back in the chair, pulling her close again. "Listen to me, Hannah. Those people have nothing to do with you. They're sick—disturbed. Mentally ill. Yes, there are plenty of them fixating on you, but most are just harmless. Jackson should never have given the file to Elle. You didn't need to see those letters."
    "I needed to see them. This is about me, and I needed to see them."
    He let her slip out of his arms and watched as she paced restlessly across the balcony, one hand holding the blanket closed, the other wiping at tears on her face. Finally she picked up the mug of tea he'd set on the railing and took a sip before handing it to him, watching his strong fingers settle around the handle. "I wish I were more like you. I feel so afraid now, and sometimes I look in the mirror and I don't know who I am."
    He made a faint sound of disbelief. "You know exactly who you are, who you've always been. You're not Hannah Drake the model, she's a small part of you, that's not who you are at all. It never was you."
    "You're always so sure of yourself, Jonas."
    He shook his head. "I'm sure of you. I know exactly who Hannah Drake is. That streak of stubborn, the one of wild. The crazy sense of humor. You never wanted to go out looking into the world for other things and other people. You wanted to stay home and just be the barefoot girl running on the beach in her rolled-up jeans."
    Hannah blinked back tears again. "I cry a lot. I think I'm okay and then I fall apart again."
    "You suffered trauma, baby, it's normal. If you didn't cry, that's when you can worry about having a problem."

    "I was so ready to go out with you tonight. I was feeling strong and happy about making my own decisions, and the next thing I knew, I was terrified, angry and weepy, all rolled into one. I'm a mess."
    "You're as normal as a Drake can possibly get." He tugged at the cover. "Now lose the blanket and let me see your hair."
    "What if you don't like it?" She put a hand on top of her head in a defensive gesture.
    He could still see the faint wounds running up and down her arms and palms.
    Defensive wounds. The knots in his belly hardened into lethal lumps.
    "Do you like it?"
    She nodded slowly, then with more conviction. "Yes."
    "Then I'll like it, too. Ditch the blanket."
    With a show of reluctance, Hannah lowered the blanket to her shoulders, her gaze suddenly shy. She looked more vulnerable than ever. The spiral curls were as thick as ever, but much shorter, framing her face and nestling along her neck and skimming her shoulders. He had always loved her naturally curly hair; it was thick and rich and uniquely Hannah. As long as it had been, well past her waist when wet, the spirals were so tight, the hair had still pulled up around the middle of her back.
    Without all the extra weight, her new shortened curls were even tighter, but the cut suited her face, emphasizing her delicate bone structure and incredible large eyes. He reached out and tugged at a silky spiral. "Joley's right. It's very sassy and sexy—and it suits you." His voice had gone rough and husky.
    She was wearing her peasant blouse, the one he loved . His mouth went dry at the sight. She wasn't wearing a bra. In the cold her nipples had hardened into two tight peaks. The sight ignited him like a flashfire, burning instantly hot and nearly out of control. He took a deep breath and battled back the urge to slam her against the wall and bury himself deep and hard over and over.
    "It does suit me, doesn't it?" Hannah flashed the smallest of smiles, but the shyness refused to fade from her eyes as she flipped the blanket back over her head.
    "Are you thinking of spending the rest of your life inside that blanket?" He had to be careful, he couldn't lose her. She'd made up her mind to give herself to him—before she panicked—she'd deliberately dressed for him—wanted him.
    She frowned, lips pursing as she contemplated. Finally she nodded. "Actually, yes, I think I like the idea." Because if she didn't cover up, then he'd notice her outfit, and being Jonas, he'd realize exactly why she'd dressed the way she had.
    "We have our getaway planned." He struggled to keep his voice neutral, but it was harsh with need. "Your sisters are bringing in the fog. Jackson is dressed like me and will be taking my car about half an hour after we slip away, so if someone is following me thinking I might