Flower Girl | h.s.

49.

tw: mentions of abuse & conversations around abuse.

please read cautiously. reach out if you need help, always.

ily <3

____________________________

Harry

"Does mommy love us?"

Lottie's blonde hair is tucked back into a braid, pieces of it falling out of it as I watch her small lip get pulled between her teeth. There's a sadness on her face that only makes me shake my head, trying to hide the disappointment that I feel.

I wish that I could answer that with honesty, but I know I have to lie.

"Mommy does love us," I tell her– knowing it has to be honest to some degree. A mother wouldn't have children she didn't love, right? There had to be an ounce of love for us, but I couldn't find it right now, "But I love you the most."

Lottie's small eyes blink a few times; Brooks laid between us, fast asleep in the little nest we created every night. It had taken him a while to get him to sleep, which only made me tired at the prospect of expecting him to wake back up in a few hours to eat.

"How much?" Lottie asks, her voice becomes higher than a whisper, to which I shush her to make sure that our conversation could stay between us.

I take in a deep breath, my hand pushing the blonde hair from her face as I stare at the little girl with so much warmth. The innocence that peeks behind  her eyes only makes mine sting.

"You know how much sand is on the beach?" I ask her quietly.

She shakes her little head to the side.

"I love you more than that."

A few giggles leave her lips, "Brooks, too?"

I look down at the baby that lays between us on the bed, a small smile creeping on my lips. I admire the way that his little breaths come in and out, a silence of the room only making this moment so pure.

"I love Brooks more than there are stars in the sky," I tell her, looking at her curious face.

"Is that more than sand on the beach?" I can see that she's confused, maybe a bit sad that I would admit I love our brother more than her, but I just shake my head and find myself laughing a bit at her innocent question.

"No, Lots," I tell her, "They're both infinite."

The knocking on the front door wakes me up out of the deep slumber, rattling the dreams echoing my brain.

My breathing huffs in my lungs as I hold myself up, immediately regretting moving so quickly as I hold my hand over my eyes to try to regulate the feeling of pulsating that occurs behind my eyes.

The night on the sofa wasn't the best night of sleep that I had ever gotten, but it did what I needed it to do. My body ached all over, and I knew that had nothing to do with the hardness of the sofa cushion.

My head throbbed.

The feeling of lifting it only made it throb more as another set of small knocks echoed throughout the suite.

I checked my phone quickly to see the time: 8:13am. I knew that our late night and long day yesterday meant that no one was awake yet. The sun was shining through the curtains just a bit, as it did in the early summer months.