Without another thought, I slipped in her room. Her blind was open, the moonlight spilling in her window. She was curled in a ball, crying. Her body shook so hard with the force of her sobs, I could see the bed moving. Lifting the blanket, I slipped my arms around her, holding her close and carrying her to my room. Cradling her, I lowered us to the bed, tucking the covers around us. She stiffened, but I held her tight.“Let it out, Hazel. You’ll feel better, sweetheart.”She melted into me, her body molded to mine. Her hands clutched at my bare shoulders, her tears hot on my skin as she wept uncontrollably. I stroked my hand over her back, my fingers through her hair, and made, what I hoped were, comforting noises. Despite the reason, I liked having her close. I missed her softness melded to my hardness. She fit to me so well. Eventually, her sobs began to taper, the terrible shudders easing from her frame. I leaned over, grabbing some tissues and pressing a bunch into her hand.“I–I’m
I woke up alone, my hand on cold, empty sheets. I wasn’t surprised—Hazel had been more restless than usual the past few nights, and even more so last night. More than once I had to pull her back to me, feeling the sobs she was trying to hide. I had held her silently, letting her emotions drain from her body. I ran a hand over my face and sat up. I would have a shower, then find her in the kitchen. I had to talk to her. There was so much to clear up—a great many things I needed to apologize for, so we could move forward—together. I didn’t think I actually gave her a deserving apology for the Chloe situation. U could only imagine how it must have made her feel to live with that woman for months, and having me constantly tell her that she was overreacting. It was insensitive of me. I was a fool.I swung my legs off the bed, grabbed my robe, and stood up. I began walking to the bathroom and stopped. My bedroom door was shut tight. Why was it closed? Was Hazel worried about disturbing me?
ONE WEEK LATERHAZELThe gentle sounds of the waves breaking on the shore soothed me. I rested my chin on my knees, trying to lose myself in the beauty of the beach. The gulls flying overhead, the ebb and flow of the moving water, and the utter peace.Except, I wasn’t peaceful. I felt lost, torn. I was grateful that my mom was no longer trapped in a never-ending nightmare of painful moments, but I missed her terribly. Her voice, her laughter, the tender way she would cup my cheek, kiss my forehead, tweak my nose, the way she always knew the right things to say at every moment.It felt like there was a gaping hole in my chest that nothing could fix. I’d lost people before, but this feeling… it was nothing I’d ever felt before. If she were here I could talk to her, tell her what I was feeling, and she would explain it to me. She would tell me what to do next.I was in love with my husband, a man who wasn’t in love with me. A man who felt love made you weak and couldn’t love himself. He
“I knew I’d find you here.”“What are you doing here?” I staggered backwards as Mark walked toward me, his arm slightly outstretched. “Relax,” he said. “I’m not here to cause any trouble.”“That’s rich, coming from you.”“Ouch,” he placed his hand on his chest in mock surprise, like he was genuinely hurt by what I’d just said.“All you’ve done is try to fuck my family over in different ways than I can even imagine. So forgive me if it’s a little hard for me to believe that ‘you’re not here to cause any trouble’.”“Family?” He asked, making a face like the word tasted bitter in his mouth. “Well, where’s this family that you speak of? I don’t see Christian Walker here. What kind of a husband is he if he doesn’t even know where his wife has been for a whole week?”I flinched, like he had physically smacked me with his words. Pain seared in my chest. A gust of wind hit me, and I shivered, pulling the thin blanket tighter around me. Mark frowned. “You’re shaking, we should go inside.”He
CHRISTIANShe had gotten thin… way too thin. Even with a jacket on, it was evident. Her appetite had been non-existent after Sandra passed, and in the few days we’d been apart, I knew she wasn’t eating. She was suffering as much as me. When I arrived at the small cluster of cottages, I parked far enough away I wouldn’t alert her to my presence if she was, indeed, there. But what I saw made me wish I had come earlier. She was on the floor, and Mark… fucking Mark Thompson was landing kicks on her. I didn’t know how long she had been in that position for, but when I showed up, she wasn’t even screaming or anything. It looked like she had just accepted her fate and was just letting him do what he wanted. I saw red. I know it sounds cliche, but that was all I could see. I had tunnel vision and all I could think about was cracking Mark’s skull. I didn’t do that, of course. But I did give him a broken nose, and I wondered how far I would have gone if I didn’t hear Hazel start whimpering aga
When we arrived back at the rustic cottage from the hospital, it was exactly how I pictured it in my head from the description in her journal—now that I was actually paying attention to it. A well-worn sofa and chair were in front of a fireplace. To the left was a rudimentary kitchen with a table and two chairs. An open door led to a small bedroom, and beside it, a bathroom. That was the entire cottage. I sat Hazel on the sofa and turned to the fireplace. Soot and smoke from years of use had settled into the stone and brick, turning the entire mantle a dull gray. I added some logs and kindling, wanting a fire to warm up the cool interior.“The flue sticks.” Hazel kneeled beside me, reaching past me to tug on the duct. She winced, and tried to hide it from me.I struck a match, making sure the kindling caught, then stood, replacing the small screen. Bending down, I brought her to her feet, tugging her damp jacket off her shoulders, tossing it to the side. Wrapping my arms around her, I
HAZELI lifted my head, squinting in the silent darkness. We had been sitting, holding each other, needing the closeness. I didn’t know for how long, but enough for night to have descended. “I need to add some more logs,” Christian murmured. “The fire is going to die.”“I like it right here. I’m warm enough.” I said in a barely audible voice.He chuckled and pressed a kiss to my head. “We have to move eventually.” He frowned at my face. “Are you sure you’re okay?” This was probably the hundredth time he had asked in an hour.I nodded. “I am, the painkillers helped and I barely feel anything.” Christian nodded hesitantly, almost like he didn’t believe me. I kept waiting for him to ask the question I knew he should be dying to ask— the big elephant in the room. ‘What was Mark doing here?’ But he never did. And I didn’t know if I should be happy or worried. Why wasn’t he asking? He seemed worried and jumpy about something too, and maybe I should’ve asked, but I selfishly didn’t. If he wa
Christian set down his plate on the old coffee table, while keeping his gaze on me. The firelight danced in front of me and over her face, the flames casting a red glow around my head. I pulled my legs to my chest and rested my chin on them as I stared into space. I hadn’t eaten much this past couple of weeks, but I managed to finish my toast. Christian polished off all the eggs and ate both my apples. He said we’d replace them, and more, in the morning. He kept staring at me, and I knew he was dying to ask all the questions on his mind, whatever they were.“What would you like to do, Hazel?” he asked.I turned my face toward him. “Hmmm?”He ran his knuckles down my cheek, tenderly. “Tomorrow. The next day. The one after. Tell me what you’re thinking.”“I don’t know.” I whispered softly. It was the truth. I didn’t know what I wanted to do anymore.“How long did you want to stay here? Or do you want to go home?” He paused, with a pained look on his face. He suddenly looked breathless an