He eyed the coed coolly. “What happened to her?”
“Nothing happened to her. She hasn’t stopped screaming for the past hour, and she bit three other kids. We can’t keep her like that.”
Several responses came to mind.
She’s just a baby.
She missed her nap.
And the loudest of all, It was my fault for leaving her.
Hannah raised her head to look at him, giant tears hanging from golden lashes. “I bite.”
“Well, at least she’s honest.” Professor Jenkins turned his questioning eyes to Nick. “She yours?”
He hesitated for only a second. “My sister. But yes, she’s mine.” And at that moment, she became even more his, which seemed to be the case every day. Every day, a little more his.
Understanding dawned, and the man’s hard features softened a bit as Hannah shuddered and quieted in Nick’s arms. He figured Professor Jenkins, like most of the professors at the University of Virginia, was aware of his parents’ recent passing over the summer.
Hannah sniffed and wiped at her running nose. “I st… stay you,” she said again, and her little chest jerked with a hiccupped breath. “I stay, Nicky.” Her small, damp hand gripped the back of his neck, and he held her tighter.
What the hell was he going to do if he couldn’t leave Hannah in daycare? He’d run circles and dived through hoops, proving he was her legal guardian in order to use the university’s free student training daycare. It was a good program, and most importantly, she’d be close.
“We’ll give it a try. One.” Professor Jenkins held up a finger. “One chance. And she has to be quiet.”
It took a second for Nick to realize what he was offering.
“One sound, and you’re both out.”
“I understand.”
Hannah raised her tear-streaked face. “I be quiet.”
Poor Professor Jenkins didn’t stand a chance against that angelic face and golden-brown eyes filled with heavy tears threatening to spill over.
“I be quiet,” she said again then ducked her face into Nick’s neck.
He took his seat, grateful Hannah kept up her end. It was the second week of classes, and he’d missed too much already.
His parents’ friends had offered help. He declined most of it, afraid they would see how absolutely inept he was. The fear of having her taken and placed with strangers weighed on his shoulders day and night. Besides, the times he’d tried leaving her hadn’t gone over well. For all her good-naturedness, Hannah did not like to be left.
Class ended, and with Hannah in his arms, he weaved through the spill of students. A guy carrying a two-year-old in pigtails on a college campus was about as magnetic as a dude walking a puppy.
It never failed—girls stopped him in the halls. They talked in that same high voice they would use to talk to a dog. Even as he thought it, he heard them coming up beside him.
“Oh my God! Is she yours?” the shorter one asked.
“Yes.” He always said yes, let them believe she was his daughter. Denying her felt wrong. It hadn’t felt wrong before his parents died, when they’d all come by the fraternity house on game days, but he was all she had now. Plus, he didn’t care enough to give these girls an explanation.
“Look at these shoes!” the other exclaimed, reaching for Hannah’s miniature red Keds.
His mother had loved dressing her only girl, and the thought washed over him with a wave of sadness.
Hannah pulled her feet back and hid her face in his neck. Not long ago, he would have thought how this armful of adorable could help him make a move. Now all he thought was he was pretty sure he’d put said tiny shoes on the wrong feet. Again.
As the girls walked away, Hannah reached back over his shoulder. “Kitty!”
Nick looked behind him to see the ragged stuffed kitten on the floor. Bending to reach for it, he proceeded to dump out half the contents of his unzipped backpack.
Damn it. Pens, crayons, and a sippy cup scattered. He went for the cup, and a bag of crackers fell out, which of course Hannah reached for, swiping her hands over the floor. Shit. Her fingers would be in her mouth in less than a second. He caught her hand, twisted behind him for the cup. When he turned back, his view of the floor was blocked by a sleek black waterfall of hair.
A small hand rescued the kitten, and as if it were happening in slow-mo, the face turned. Wide, round eyes so dark they might have been black met his. Her beautiful mouth smiled softly, possibly laughing.
“We’re um… having issues.”
“I can see that,” she said, her smile growing as they stood together.
She was tiny, the top of her head well below his shoulder. And all that silky hair—