Page 31 of I’m Fine Save Me (The Spiral Duet #1)

Chapter twenty-three

Tegan

Two Weeks Later

A side from a short message from Chris instructing me to stop asking the other’s he’s approved for me to talk to if he’s okay, I haven’t heard anymore from him.

I’m supposed to wait until he thinks I’ve been punished with his silence long enough.

I’m not this person.

I don’t let someone just walk all over me because they think they can; but I find myself in a position of just wanting to figure out what I’ve done wrong. I hate feeling like I’ve failed at something, even though the bigger part of my brain is screaming at me that this isn’t something I’ve done.

Cooper has tried reaching out to Chris after I told him he’s gone quiet on me, but Chris hasn’t responded to him at all. I don’t know what he’s said, I just know that he’s tried to make contact… and been ignored.

That’s my fault too.

I let Cooper be brought into this, and now he’s being made to feel like he’s not enough in some way with a man he barely knows. A man who put up the false pretense that he would build some kind of friendship with my husband.

The two of us have spent nights talking more about our date night a month ago.

Cooper opened up about being willing to try getting to know Chris.

That’s not currently going well since now I’m not sure I’m even with Chris, even in the loose capacity in which we were before.

I asked Cooper how he’d feel about trying to date other people and exploring those questions he had about his sexuality; but he immediately got uncomfortable.

Once he started shutting down, I let the conversation go in another direction.

In the last two weeks, I’ve only had that one long conversation with Morgan.

Aside from that, it’s been a quick message to let him know I’d be offline, because seeing Chris online and blatantly ignoring me is fucking with my head.

I have enough going on in my real life not to have him fucking up the one place I go to decompress.

I’m currently sitting in the hallway with Hannah’s bedroom door open.

She’s melting down after an attempt at a therapy activity where she’s required to let me control the timing.

She didn’t like my pace and when I restated the rules, I watched all the signs of an impending meltdown playout like a visual checklist.

She started breathing heavily, snapping with her hands down by her sides, and she started blinking her eyes rapidly.

I thought I had gotten a handle on sensing when she was nearing her limit; but today must be a bad day because I didn’t realize it in time.

The minute I saw what was happening, I opened my mouth to start coaching her through her breathing.

I was too late.

We’re now starting hour two of this particular meltdown and she only got worse when I tried to walk into her room.

I was there long enough to make sure there were no toys or objects within reach that could cause harm, and then I settled here in the hallway with my back against the wall to wait her out.

I’m singing her song and fighting my own emotions.

“What’s going on?” I hear Cooper’s voice coming from the kitchen and I quickly stand up to meet him in the doorway that leads from the hall to the kitchen.

He’s never been home for one of these meltdowns. In the time since Hannah was diagnosed and I started trying different techniques with her meltdowns, he’s been going through his own mental health battle. I hadn’t even realized the time and thought this would pass before he got home.

I tell him when she has a bad day, but I’ve never gotten the chance to give him the details for fear of it pulling him down into some kind of spiral. Feeling panic clenching my chest, I rest my hands on his shoulders and shake my head.

“She’s okay. We’re working through it,” I tell him calmly. “I just have to be there until she calms down. If you go in there it could likely get worse, and I promise that it makes you feel like absolute shit.”

The look he gives me is one of confusion, but he leans in to press a gentle kiss to my forehead.

“How often does this happen?” he asks in a quiet tone.

“This is the first time in a few weeks, but we were trying a new therapy exercise. It’s pretty normal for something like that.

” I shrug my shoulders. “I thought it would pass quicker than it has, but she really wasn’t having it.

I just— I missed the signs that she was overwhelmed until right before she started screaming. I’m usually better at this.”

I feel his lips grace my brow with another kiss and feel his hands gently grip my upper arms. If only he could lend me that strength mentally, it would help keep me from feeling insane.

“Can I try? I’ll try not to let it get to me if it doesn’t work.”

I hesitate.

This isn’t something I’ve given over to anyone, not even my mother.

She hasn’t done therapy exercises or massive routine changes with Hannah.

When she goes to Gram’s house, it’s a fun adventure; and for some reason it has only ever triggered her once.

My mom chalked it up to her being scared of being away from home overnight, but it clearly wasn’t bad like this.

“I promise, baby,” he whispers, sensing my concern.

Finally, I nod and step back, giving him room to pass down the hall and towards her room. That tightness in my chest remains while I watch him lean against the doorframe of her bedroom.

Hannah’s still screaming, but I can tell that she’s moved to her pile of stuffies where her weighted blanket was waiting for her. Edging my way down the hall, I stay out of her sight, but peek just enough to see she has pulled the blanket around herself.

The pressure is calming her a bit, so I know this is coming to an end. I lightly rest my hand on Cooper’s shoulder to tell him as much, but he steps into her room and crouches down in front of her.

“Hey, Little Bit. What is going on here?” he asks in the same tone he uses when he’s checking under the bed and in the closet for her.

There’s a pause in Hannah’s wails and I’m almost astonished at the miracle; but a heartbeat later, she’s screaming again and I hear a muffled curse from my husband.

“Hannah…” Cooper’s voice is stern now. I hear another curse, then a loud thud. I finally come out of my hiding spot and into the room.

Cooper has fallen onto his ass while Hannah throws stuffed animals at him. A building block was apparently under the pile, and I missed it on my inspection of the room before. Cooper’s right eyebrow is already bleeding where she threw it at him.

“Hannah, stop!” He’s not only stern now. He’s angry and it sends our daughter into a new level of screaming and burrowing into her blanket.

“Coop… Let me look at your eye.” I keep my voice even and calm even though my emotions feel like they’re choking me. “I need you to calm down and walk out of the room, Cooper.”

There’s no way Hannah can hear what I’m saying, but I know she can pick up on my tone. Remaining as calm as possible, I hold my hand out to my husband to help him stand before pointing him towards the hall.

“I’ll be right there.” Then I turn to go through the pile to make sure there’s nothing else solid that can hurt my daughter or anyone she sees as a threat. Once I’m satisfied that I didn’t miss anything this time, I kneel down in front of her to help wrap the blanket around her.

As much as I need to go help Cooper, I have to make sure she’s safe first. This is so much easier when I’m alone and we have our routine for handling this.

I should’ve just told Cooper I needed to stick to our usual routine for this situation.

He was trying to help and fuck I wanted help. I’m so fucking tired of not having help.

My fingers slip on the edge of the blanket just slightly, and the tips of my fingers just lightly graze Hannah’s shoulder. Her crying gets louder and she shakes her head violently.

I touched her.

She hates being touched when she’s overwhelmed and overstimulated. My heart constricts.

“I’m so sorry, honey. I’m so so sorry.” The words come out of me in broken whispers, but I don’t let my tears fall. I slide back away from her until I’m in the hall again with the bedroom door open so I can see her. Cooper is standing there with a damp cloth against his brow looking pissed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know– fuck I’m sorry, Tegan.”

He never calls me by name. I’m always baby, or beautiful, or gorgeous.

I’m never Tegan to him, I’m rarely even Tegs.

I know this got to him if he’s calling me by name. It gives me pause, but I look up from where I’m sitting on the floor to offer him an understanding smile.

“If you bring the first aid kit here, I’ll clean that up; but I have to sit and watch her and sing until she calms down.”

The way he stares at me almost breaks my heart, but after a few tense moments, I watch him go to fetch the kit.

I start singing and hear the moment Hannah realizes that we’re back on course. Her cries start to lower in volume, but we still have a way to go.

With gauze, peroxide, and a My Little Pony bandaid, Cooper is patched up in no time.

I’m still singing while he sits opposite of me in the hall, his hand resting on my outstretched leg, caressing my calf from knee to ankle and back again.

It’s almost enough to break that tight hold I have on myself.

If I let myself break, no one will be able to take care of them while I put myself back together.

They’ll be lost.

“It’s like this every time?” Cooper asks in a whisper that only I can hear over my singing and Hannah’s decreasing cries. I nod my head slowly without losing the tune.

“Every time you try something new? Or close to it?”

Another nod.

“And you just sing until she regulates?” Giving him another nod, my lips tip up in a sad smile.