I inhaled slowly, steadying myself, and then knocked.
Quiet. Thunder. The first few droplets of rain.
Finally, the latch clacked, and the door opened, and holy fucking shit, there she was.
A train ran right over me. My throat tightened. My muscles tensed.
She wore an oversized sweater and held Piddles, the ginger cat, in her arms. He meowed a greeting then snuggled into her arms.
Hazel’s green eyes were puffy, dark circles underneath them, and her cheeks were pale, her face slightly drawn. Beautiful as ever, but painfully so, now. She stared at me like I was a ghost, and her lips parted, little gasps of breath escaping.
“Hazel,” I said.
And she jerked on the spot. Piddles meowed and jumped out of her arms and high-tailed it into the house. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
Christ, her voice. I forgot. “I heard about your father.”
“So, it’s a pity visit,” she said, stiffening. “Save it, then. I don’t need your pity. I just need you to leave me alone.” She made to close the door.
“Wait.”
“What are you even doing here?” Hazel asked, holding the door wider now, anger spilling from her. “I’m the evil one who betrayed you, remember? Fuck the benefit of the doubt or anything.”
“I was wrong.”
“No, no, you were totally right. I’m an evil plan-wrecker or home-wrecker or porn star or whatever it is you believe about me,” she said. “Keep believing that.”
“I’m sorry.” The words never came easy unless I was with her. She humbled me. I didn’t even care that she’d brought me back down to earth. “I was wrong. And I shouldn’t have taken out… my personal issues on you.”
“Issues?” Hazel raised a palm. “Forget it. Never mind. I don’t care. Apology not accepted. I don’t need the confusion. I have much more important things to worry about right now.”
“I can help you,” I said. “With your father. Whatever you need, I can help. I have money, Hazel.”
“I don’t want your money, and I don’t want your help.”
“Hazel.”
“What don’t you get?” The words whipped out of her, loud above the patter of starting rain. “You’re nothing but a bad trip, Damien. I can’t accept help from you because that would mean being around you, and I’m not—” She cleared her throat. “I’m not going to have my heart broken by you a third time. Goodbye.” Hazel shut the door on me.
A third time. A third time?
“Hazel!” I knocked. “Hazel, please. I can help you. I can…”
But it was already too late. She’d shut me out, and it was my damn fault in the first place. My fault for not trusting her and for not realizing that I wanted her as more than just a contractual partner or a friend or even a fuck buddy.
What was I supposed to do, shout “I love you” through the fucking door?
That would only make things worse. She wouldn’t believe me if I told her.
I rested my forehead against the door, my fists coming up and pressing into the jamb. “Hazel.” The heavens opened, and rain splattered the front steps, slipped down the back of my neck. “I’m not giving up on you.”
I stayed a couple minutes, hoping she’d open the door and give me another chance to explain why I’d been a dick. Why I’d held back.
It was a false hope.
All I could do now was prove myself to her. Show her that while her world was collapsing around her, there was one thing she could rely on, one thing that was true. I loved her.
37
Hazel
“I’m not giving up on you.”
Damien’s words were lodged in my mind. They had been all night. I’d gone to sleep crying over him, thinking about what could’ve been, how much I wanted him, and how I couldn’t let him back in again. Certainly not now when things were at their worst.
The curtains in my bedroom were open a crack, allowing a sliver of morning sunlight through. It slanted across the end of my bed, where Mr. Piddlywump was curled up and fast asleep. I didn’t want to get out of bed.
But I had my father to worry about, and my sister too—if I didn’t find a way to jerk Kara back into line, I had no idea what would become of her. I’d done my research on the porn industry, and it was horrible to women, for the most part. They were expendable, used and thrown away after a few months when they lost their novelty.
Though I didn’t want to judge my sister, I also couldn’t stand by without at least trying to help her see sense.
Not that wanting her to stop wasn’t selfishly motivated—I couldn’t handle another run-in with men who recognized me as “Kinky Kara.”
I forced myself upright, and Piddly stirred, purring and stretching. He meowed and came over to bump his head against my hands. This had always been our morning routine, a quick scratch behind the ears and then food.
“All right,” I said and kissed his head. “We’ll get up.”
I had to get to the hospital today. Kara was going, and God alone knew what she’d say to upset my father. He’d been more wakeful lately, which I took as a good sign. Doctor Washington had told me not to hope, in the kindest way possible, but I couldn’t help myself. I wouldn’t give up on Dad, just like I hadn’t given up on the café.
A quick trip to the kitchen later, and Mr. Piddlywump and I were settled in the living room, him with his bowl of kibble and me with some cereal that tasted like sawdust. Everything did, nowadays. I sat in my dad’s armchair and inhaled, savoring the scent of him that lingered.
The first week, I’d tried sitting in my usual spot, but the sight of Dad’s empty chair had made it impossible to think about anything other than him lying in a hospital bed. This was easier. Marginally.
I switched on
