Letters From Scarlette {Haylor}

Chapter 28:

I crawl into bed next to Harry, his body heat radiating onto my body and making me feel warm, inside and out. My head rests on his bare chest, his heart creating a steady beat.

"Is there any hope left, Harry?" I mumble, thinking out loud. The house is perfectly quiet, Scarlettes' asleep. Just us talking. He swallows, contemplating the odds.

"I think there's always hope,"

His fingers twirl my hair, calming my worries.

"I know, I'm just having a hard time thinking about this being our last-"

"-please don't think about that, love. Appreciate the time we have left with our little girl while we have her,"

He cuts me off, looking down into my eyes. I take a deep, shakey breath, muttering a sigh and a nod.

"Now get some sleep, alright? Gotta be as happy as we can. I love you,"

"Okay, I love you too. Night babe,"

"Sweet dreams,"

He mumbles, pressing his lips lightly into mine before letting his head lay against the pillow. Sweet dreams? More like nightmares.

~~~~~

•Harrys POV•

I get up early, leaving Taylor peacefully sleeping on our bed. To think, this may be the last time we sleep here before Scarr- nevermind. I cant think of that, not now. Silently, I tug the covers up higher on her shoulder which earns a absent minded smile from a sleeping Taylor. She's so cute.

"Make breakfast, check reservation, finish packing the car,"

I mumble under my breath quietly. Some unopened pancake mix sits on the marble countertop along with eggs and bacon in the fridge. Scarlettes' favorite. My foot kicks a drawer close as I stir the mix into the pan while frying the others. A yawn distracts me from my duties, finding Taylor dressed in a low, dark grey tanktop and light grey sweatpants with her hair in a bun.

"What are you doing?"

She yawns, hopping up on the counter and looking tiredly up at me.

"Making breakfast for my two favorite ladies, what are you doing up?"

"It smelt too good,"

She mumbles, looking down at her growling stomach.

"Aw you're too cute,"

I grin, wrapping my arms around her figure.

"Not to end the moment but I believe the bacons burning,"

She says, pointing to the dark red strips. I curse under my breath, turning off the stove and loading up the plates.

"Scarlette!! Breakfastttttt!"

Taylor shouts, echoing through the house. A small version of Taylor emerges from her bedroom. Blonde hair, not as curly as her natural but about my curls, bright blue eyes, her hair in a small bun and wearing sweats and a black tanktop.

"Watcha cookin' daddy?"

She sings, climbing up into one of the bar stools. She doesn't even look sick, the only difference is her skin. It's very pale from the treatments and shots. Somehow she remains just as perky.

"Your favorite, Scarr!"