It felt like Hannah was being yanked from the depths of the sea. She struggled to pry open her eyelids, reaching out toward the shadowy figure.
“Hannah! Wake up!”
In his formal suit, Bryson stormed into the bathroom, scooping Hannah out of the tub without a second thought.
Water droplets clung to Hannah’s cheek as Bryson cradled her in his arms.
She weakly rested her head against his arm, unresponsive to his calls.
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Droplets continued to trickle from her damp hair, her wrist limp at her side. Despite Bryson’s urgent pleas, she remained still.
“Hannah! Wake up!”
Realizing his efforts were in vain, Bryson checked for her breath, relieved to find she still breathed on her own. He swiftly lifted her from the tub.
Placing her on the bed, he prepared to perform CPR when she suddenly stirred.
“Help… me…”
Bryson grasped her arm, drawing her close. “Hannah, can you hear me?”
It was as if she was reaching for the light above her. She clung to Bryson’s hand as if pulling herself from deep waters.
“Ahem! Ahem! Ahem!”
Coughing racked her body as her eyes fluttered open.
Bryson soothed her, stroking her back, giving her room to catch her breath.
As her vision cleared and she realized the warmth around her, a sense of safety enveloped her. But as she gained her bearings, she found herself wrapped tightly in someone’s arms.
Instinctively, she tensed, ready to escape. But her urge to rise was thwarted by the firm grip on her arms.
Hannah’s gaze turned sharp as she looked up at the man beside her.
Bryson met her gaze, water droplets still glistening on his handsome face.
“That glare could kill, you know?”
“Why are you here?” Hannah’s cheeks flushed as she realized her nakedness before Bryson. “Clothes. I need clothes.”
Effortlessly, Bryson lifted her, wrapping her securely in the quilt before setting her down.
Then he straightened, the picture of nonchalance. “Where do you keep them?”
Clutching the quilt to her chest, Hannah curled into a ball, her voice small. “Back right cabinet. There are dresses on the top shelf ~any will do.”