Chapter 12 Hazel #2
“This is the place.” He led me down the long hallway, where there wasn’t so much as a loose shoe on the ground. Damn, this guy was tidy.
The high ceilings in the main living area contained skylights that would drench the place with natural light once the sun rose in the morning.
His furniture all looked brand new. Pristine, and very…
gray. My head was on a swivel, looking at it all.
His kitchen was all harsh lines and granite, with not a spot to be found.
“It’s very nice…neutral,” I said, then wanted to kick myself.
He chuckled. “It’s not quite as homey as your place, but I like it.”
“Homey is generous.” We exchanged smiles, but anxiety radiated off both of us. Last night had felt temporary, plus we had been in my space. My terms. Now, I’d told him I’d stay here until the situation was resolved. That could be anywhere from tomorrow, to two weeks from now.
“It’s a great house, Reid,” I added, feeling rude for not complimenting it yet.
“Thanks. I was kind of in a bind after the divorce. Our house sold in just one weekend on the market, and I needed to find something quick.”
“You got lucky, then. This place is perfect.” I kept my tone casual. Blasé. As if I hadn’t even thought about the fact that last night he’d mentioned he was divorced.
In reality, I was dying to ask him more.
Mostly, what his ex was like. As far as I could tell, Reid was a goddamn catch.
How had she let him go? But I knew how much breakups sucked.
I hated rehashing stuff about Paul; I could only imagine that being married just made things even messier.
So I forced myself to let it go. Reid would share more if he wanted to.
“Your room is down this way.” He pointed to the hall off the dining room. “And mine is back through the other hallway.” He jerked a finger toward the hallway off the living room on the opposite side of the large room. “Just like I said, plenty of space.”
Heat pricked the back of my neck as I thought about the proximity of his bedroom to mine. It didn’t seem like a whole lot of space to me. Not when I was noticing the little vein bulging every time he flexed his forearm.
“Thanks again, Reid.” Shit. Did my voice sound breathy? “If this gets to be too much, you can totally ask me to leave.”
“It’s fine.” He rolled my suitcase to the guest room, and I followed close behind. “I never even use this room. I probably won’t even realize you’re here.”
He switched on the lights, and the room came into view.
It looked exactly like a hotel. And not one of those charming boutique ones with funky decorations; nope, this one was straight out of a giant-hotel-chain decorating handbook.
White sheets, white duvet, black headboard, matching side tables, and a dresser.
Exactly one piece of artwork hung above the bed, one which looked like it had been purchased at one of those big-box home goods stores.
The space had zero soul, but I smiled nonetheless.
“This is perfect.”
“I never got around to painting.” He said it like that had been his intent. As if every other room I’d seen on my brief walk around his house wasn’t stark white.
“I think this place suits you,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow. “Because you think I’m boring?”
That made me laugh. “I didn’t say that. Why? Are you calling your own place boring?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I never really thought about it before, but after seeing yours, it probably seems like I just moved in.”
“I think you like simplicity. This place is exactly what I expected.” I took my suitcase from him and set it down on the bench at the end of the bed.
“The drawers are empty if you want to unpack,” he said.
“Don’t worry. I promise I won’t tornado my stuff all over the room.”
He eyed me from behind his glasses. “Hazel, I want you to be comfortable here. If that means a few pieces of clothing lying on the ground, then I’m alright with that. I won’t even come in here. This is your space.”
“Just for a little while,” I added.
“Still. I need you to be comfortable. I hate the idea of you feeling like you need to walk on eggshells around here. Seriously, whatever you need to feel at home, do it.”
“And you promise not to organize a passive-aggressive chore list and stick it to the fridge?” I joked.
He thought for a moment before smiling. “I can’t promise that.”
I couldn’t help but notice he must have forgotten to shave today.
A trace of stubble shadowed his chin; barely a five o’clock shadow.
Maybe staying over at my place had thrown off his routine.
I hadn’t known Reid long, but so far he had never been anything other than perfectly put together and clean shaven.
I liked this almost imperceptible crack in his polish.
“Alright,” he said, clapping his hands together. “I’ll let you get settled in before Ruby gets here with the food.”
Then he was gone, closing the door softly behind him.
I fell back onto the bed, letting the plush comforter embrace me.
Even though he said he never came in this room, it smelled like him.
Reid struck me as the kind of guy who would buy the same scent for everything—candles, soap, air freshener.
I liked it, though. Leather and spice. Subtle and soft, but it still lingered everywhere.
I picked up a pillow and breathed in the scent. Yep. Reid was definitely the kind of person who purchased room spray. Whatever the hell that was.
My suitcase begged to stay in its open state so that I could rifle through it any time I needed something—and make a progressively bigger mess as the days went on. But I wanted to be a good house guest, which was why I pulled open a dresser drawer and started to unpack my clothes.
I wasn’t the unpacking type on trips, so it felt strange just dumping my stuff into a foreign dresser.
Admittedly, I hadn’t had many opportunities to pack and unpack lately.
Or ever. When would I find the time or money to travel?
The last trip I’d been on was up north for a night, to a casino.
There was a show Gran had wanted to see, so we’d left Paul behind and gone, just us two.
We’d splurged on the cheapest hotel room they had, drank too many margaritas, and spent too much money at the slot machines. We’d had a blast.
It was the last trip I’d taken with her.
I hadn’t realized it would be the last at the time.
My hands folded, and bunched, and refolded the same sweater before I stuffed it in the drawer. I was torn between chasing down the memory to savor it or running away.
Instead, I forced my thoughts to stay on the present moment.
Specifically, how surprisingly not weird this was.
Being at Reid’s. A place like this should, theoretically, leave me feeling suffocated, like I couldn’t breathe without wrinkling the duvet or breaking something.
But Reid, and even his house, had a calming energy.
I liked being here—around him. And despite my earlier confidence that everything was going to be fine, I was actually happy not to be alone right now.
It wasn’t even about the safety aspect. It was lonely in that apartment.
I’d moved there after breaking up with Paul, and it was the only place I’d lived by myself.
Despite packing the space from floor to ceiling in an effort to feel something, it remained stubbornly void of life—like all the energy had quietly slipped out while I wasn’t looking.
Which was strange.
Because here I was, settling into the blandest guest bedroom I’d ever seen at the home of a guy I hardly knew.
And yet…for the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel quite so empty.
“Pizza is here.”
Ruby held up two brown boxes like an offering. Reid had already produced three matching plates from a cabinet.
“Wow, fancy,” I said, taking one.
“I suppose you usually just eat out of the box,” he said before taking the boxes from Ruby and setting them on his impossibly clean stone island.
“Sometimes, I grab a piece of paper towel.”
His grin widened. He produced a roll of paper towels from underneath the sink and handed them to me. “Make yourself at home.”
“I’m so glad you’re here, Hazel,” Ruby said, not waiting for us before grabbing a slice of pepperoni pizza and setting it on her plate.
She dabbed at the pizza grease with a paper towel.
“You shouldn’t be in that apartment right now.
Reid is always going on about some cold case, and it’s disgusting what people are capable of. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“I am not always going on about some cold case,” Reid muttered.
“Always,” Ruby insisted. “Even when we beg him not to.”
I chuckled. It was fun seeing Reid and Ruby interact. They had that sibling energy I’d only seen on sitcoms.
“I do feel safer,” I said. I swore Reid’s cheeks flushed when I glanced over at him.
Ruby gave me a warm smile and said, “Good.”
I liked Ruby. She’d always been sweet, and had made an effort to include me as soon as I started at the salon.
I think we were right on the verge of becoming real friends when Gran died.
That kind of hit pause on everything. Grieving was awful, but it was also…
awkward. Everyone at the salon had been kind and thoughtful, but there was something strange about mourning in front of people who barely knew me.
Their sympathy came by the bucketfuls, but no one knew her—or me—enough to make a difference.
They pitied me from a safe distance instead of crying next to me.
Funny. I already felt closer to Reid than I did to her. Sure, we’d had a sleepover to solidify our blossoming, friend-adjacent relationship, but I was still surprised by it. The two of us had so little in common.
“Are you all table people?” I asked, tilting my head in the direction of the giant wooden dining table.
“Reid is.” Ruby rolled her eyes and led the way to the table.