Couldn’t do that, though. Couldn’t take it too far.
“You look like hell,” Kara said, from her spot at the gleaming kitchen island. “And that says a lot coming from me.” Hazel’s sister looked like she’d been dragged backward out of a bush.
“Tired from work?” I asked. “I heard you got another audition.”
Kara yawned. “Yeah. You could say that.”
Hazel entered the room, her arm around her father, and guided him to the island. She helped him onto a stool, shaking her head at me when I offered help.
“Morning, Mr. McCutcheon. How are you?”
The old man was gaunt—a shadow of who he’d been back in the day and waning more and more each day. It was alarming, and Hazel’s faux upbeat attitude didn’t help. Neither did the chemo.
“Oh, I’m just fine.”
“Hungry?” Hazel asked. “I can fix you some oatmeal, Dad.”
“No, Nut, I’m not hungry this morning.”
Kara sighed and pushed off from the table. “I need to sleep. Catch y’all on the flipside.” She trudged out of the kitchen, pulling down a glittery skirt that barely covered her ass cheeks.
Something weird was going on there, but I didn’t have the inclination to figure out what it was. My father had called to ask for a meeting—hopefully, that didn’t mean he’d decided to move up the board meeting. I was happy with the thirty-day agreement.
Maybe I can convince Hazel to stay here for a little longer afterward.
I’d already held off on telling her that her father’s house was ready for them to move back. It was easier having her here. Besides, it made the whole fiancée deal seem more real to Mortimer.
“So, what are your plans for the day?” Hazel’s dad asked, leaning an elbow on the table. He pressed his hand to his forehead.
“You all right, Mr. McCutcheon?”
“Fine, fine,” he waved, swallowing heavily. “Just a little nauseated.”
“Dad, I can call Nurse Jackie right now.”
“No, I’m fine. Just feel like watching some TV and relaxing.”
Piddles the cat meowed into the kitchen and leaped onto the island. He purred and rubbed against Mr. McCutcheon’s arm, bumping and purring. Hazel’s father placed his hand on the cat’s back. “There’s my boy,” he mumbled.
“Piddly, not on the counter,” Hazel said.
“It’s OK.” I winked at her.
She shot me a glare for daring to show the merest hint of affection, and it only made me want her more. Especially since she didn’t have the engagement ring on her finger. I’d tried convincing her to wear it at home, maybe because it turned me on a little, but she’d refused.
I fixed Hazel a cup of coffee, got her dad a glass of water, and placed them out on the counter. We sipped our drinks in silence, Hazel and I occasionally glancing at each other. Each time, her cheeks grew pinker, and my desire for her heightened.
“You want to go to the living room, Dad?” Hazel set down her coffee and helped her father out of the chair.
They shuffled out of the kitchen, followed by the cat, leaving me alone with my espresso machine. I hit the button to summon another shot.
The burble of coffee filled the sudden quiet.
The lack.
This was what it’d always been like, though. Me living alone, no pets, no family, no friends, no women. Just me in my silent apartment or hotel room or home, depending on where I’d decided to stay for the night.
Now, the quiet was foreign.
Over the past week, the sounds of activity, whether it was a TV on, or Hazel singing in the kitchen, or Kara stomping around doing fuck knew what, had become the norm. My chest constricted—a band of iron cutting off airflow.
I’d realized the danger of having her here long ago, but it had reached a new level now. It was time I told Hazel that her house was safe again. Time they all got out before I wound up… fuck, it was unthinkable.
I took the espresso cup from under the spout and sipped it, the buzz kicking through nearly instantly.
I’d tell her after the meeting with Mortimer today. Find out what my father wanted, then tell her how much time there was left in our contract. The distance would be good for us. It would stop me from fucking her day and night, making things worse. If she hadn’t developed feelings for me by now, it’d be a miracle.
Most women fell within the first couple days. It was cocky, but it was true, and I was tired of breaking hearts. Doing that to Hazel for a second time hadn’t been part of the plan.
I downed the last of the espresso, gritted my teeth at the bitterness, then headed out, leaving Hazel to deal with her father. And me to deal with mine.
30
Hazel
The gentle click of the front door shutting was a relief.
Damien was gone. I could stop wanting him for a second and concentrate on what was important.
“Comfortable?” I asked, plumping Dad’s pillow. I’d already switched on the TV, and a documentary played in the background. Piddlywump had curled up in Dad’s lap, purring and kneading the blanket I’d wrapped around my father. “Dad?”
“Fine,” he croaked. But he wasn’t fine. He was paler than usual and trembling.
“Dad. Nurse Jackie will be here soon, but… are you sure? I can take you to the hospital.”
“Don’t have an appointment till next week.”
“Yeah, but—”
“I’m fine, Nut. Go on and get some breakfast. Stop worrying about me,” my dad said, quietly.
I lingered, concern overriding everything else. “Dad.”
“Go on, now. Get.”
I kissed him on the forehead then took a breath and walked for the door, the weight of his illness on my mind. If only I could take it from him. Make him feel better. Guilt channeled through me—while he was ill and suffering, I was having the time of my life with Damien every night.
A rattling noise, followed by Piddlywump’s startled yowl, came from my father’s chair.
I spun around in time to watch him fall forward, pale
