Drake Sisters 05 - Safe Harbor

they wanted to protect her—that they felt it was necessary. All of them jumped him, demanding he back off and let them handle her. Because poor little broken Hannah needed to be handled.
    She felt the insistent burn of tears. How utterly pathetic could she get, standing in the middle of her room with broken glass surrounding her— mocking her—and her sisters and Jonas crowding together outside her door whispering together. If it wasn't so wretchedly sad, she would laugh.
    She'd managed to keep everyone at bay the first week home by simply staying in bed, but her refusal to eat had upset them all so much, and she could see she was wearing them out as they tried to heal her, so she'd made the effort to get up.
    "Hannah. I'm not kidding around with you. Open the fucking door now." There was an edge to his voice, as if he were gritting his teeth and biting out each word. Her heart accelerated and her throat seemed to swell.
    There were more whispers. She could have told her sisters all the demands in the world wouldn't work on Jonas. He was going to come in. There were no walls between Jonas and Hannah. He never allowed them unless he was the one erecting them. He simply smashed every barrier down. She closed her eyes. When he opened the door—and he would—her sisters would see the mess she'd made and the sympathy would pour from them with such force she would be overwhelmed and drowning instantly.
    She wished she could just disappear. Instead, when she heard Jonas working the lock, she reached out to him. Please don't let the others see in, Jonas . It cost what little pride she had left, but she made the plea. Her sisters didn't need to see just how weak and useless she really was. Jonas already knew. Maybe they did, too, maybe that was why they always bailed her out, thought for her, directed her and babied her. She hadn't been able to bear the look on her mother's face so she asked her to leave along with the aunts. If one more person fussed over her, she might jump off the balcony.
    "Sarah, Kate, just stay out," Jonas barked, holding the door closed. "I'm not going to hurt her. She's quite capable of putting me in my place if she needs to. Go away and let me talk to her alone."
    "She's fragile, Jonas. Don't be such a bear with her." Kate's voice was low and anxious. "You can't just barge in on her and yell at her."
    "Why would you think I'd do that?" Jonas asked.
    "Maybe using the 'F' word was a clue," Kate said.
    Hannah found the churning in her stomach easing a bit.
    Jonas was not going to treat her as if she might break apart any second—even if she already had.
    Jonas slipped inside, shut the door and turned the lock. She stayed very still as he surveyed the damage. Her full-length antique free-standing mirror was shattered, only two small, jagged shards hanging from the frame. The glass was everywhere, scattered all over the floor, pieces even sticking up like small daggers, glittering like silver.
    "Don't move, baby," he said. "Not one step."
    "In spite of what everyone thinks, I'm not suicidal, just irrational." Her voice came out in a husky whisper, one the doctors said she would have to get used to. She kept her hand in front of her face. He'd seen her swathed in bandages, but she'd taken them off to look and the sight had been hideous. She didn't want to look in a mirror and she didn't want to see her reflection in his eyes. Most of all, she didn't want to see pity on his face.
    Jonas stepped through the glass and caught her up, cradling her in his arms. "On the bed or out on the balcony?"
    She blushed. Not just her face, her entire body. His breath was warm on her neck. Her robe had gaped open and he was staring down at the slashes standing out so raw and angry across her bare flesh. "Jonas. Don't look."
    "Why the hell not?"
    "Stop swearing at me. And you know why. It's aw-awful." She closed her eyes. She would not stammer. She refused to be any more of a mess than she already was.
    Jonas took her to the edge of the French doors and set her on her feet, his hands going to the front of her robe and sweeping it open before she could stop him. "I'm so fucking glad you're alive, do you really think I care what the stitches look like? I want to see if you're healing properly. The docs didn't want you to come home yet."

    All the color drained from her face. She gasped. A single strangled cry escaped as she attempted to step back and jerk her robe closed, but he held the material apart ruthlessly.
    "I