Chapter 29 Hazel
TWENTY-NINE
Hazel
By the time we pulled back into the driveway of Reid’s house, I already had a plan.
I’d texted Jackson on the way, seeing if he wanted to hang out tonight. Thankfully, he was free and told me to come over.
I needed space, and I needed it now.
Reid apparently already thought of me as a mess; I couldn’t let him see me break down. I just needed a night to collect myself. Then I could talk to him tomorrow, when I was more put together, without all this raw emotion getting in the way and clouding my judgement.
“Want to watch a Christmas movie, or is it too early?” Reid asked, holding the front door open for me.
“Um, actually Jackson invited me over tonight.”
“Jackson,” Reid confirmed. “Didn’t you two just hang out the other day?”
“We did. And then I blew him off, so I really feel like I should stop by. I think we could become friends if I gave it more of a shot.”
A flash of something that looked like disappointment crossed his face, but he nodded. “Of course, you should. I’m glad you’re making friends.”
“Yep.” My mouth went dry. His words were sweet, but they only deepened my sense of being lost and pathetic.
Poor little Hazel—couldn’t even make a friend.
He’d seen me after my night out with those girls from high school.
At the time, he’d seemed like my knight in shining armor, but now I saw it differently.
I was a liability. Someone who needed checking on.
Someone who needed her hand held just to stay upright.
He looked at the time on his phone. “It’s almost nine. Are you going to—”
“I’ll probably spend the night,” I added, rushing back to my room to get an overnight bag together. The tears were stinging, begging to be set free, and I fought like hell to hold them back.
I knew I should talk to Reid. And I would.
But tomorrow sounded so much better than tonight.
I needed to think about this. Collect my thoughts.
Lie awake and practice what I’d say to him and rehearse my responses.
The last thing I wanted him to see me as was unstable.
I couldn’t feed into that narrative. I wanted him to see me as more than that.
I wanted him to see that I’d already reached my potential. I wasn’t someone who needed saving.
“Oh…that’ll be fun.” Reid leaned against the doorframe, watching me pack. I shot him a smile, hoping I looked mostly normal.
A breath escaped him in a tired-sounding huff. “Listen, I know my family is a lot. I hope tonight wasn’t too much too fast.”
My chest ached when I met his eyes. “No, it was perfect. I love your family. I’m so happy you included me.”
He didn’t look convinced, but I didn’t have the time to properly reassure him. The gates that held back my flood were about to rupture.
“Okay, I think that’s everything I need.” I patted my bag.
“Hopefully we get a response tomorrow from the security company,” he offered as he trailed behind me, back to the living room.
“Hopefully,” I said with forced brightness. “I’m feeling both nauseous and optimistic about it.”
His lip turned up. “Yeah, me too.”
I slipped my boots back on and grabbed my car keys off the hook by the front of the door. In and out in five minutes flat. That was probably a record for me. Funny how quick I could be when I was motivated. And nothing drove me more right now than the need to hold it together in front of Reid.
“Um, drive safe.” He reached out for me before hesitating and dropping his hand.
“I will.” I lingered for a second, unsure if I should kiss him, or hug him, or what. Not wanting to add any additional awkwardness to the situation, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek before waving goodbye and getting the hell out of there.
“He called you a mess?” Jackson asked, picking the last of the pepperoni off his pizza.
His apartment was surprisingly spacious for a studio. It was one of those sleek, newer buildings in the downtown district, with high, exposed ceilings and polished concrete floors.
I sighed. “West said he called me a mess.”
“Maybe he misheard.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“I mean it does sound like something someone would say to describe you.”
I groaned, placing my head in my hands. “West is his best friend. If Reid said that to him, he was probably confiding in him why he didn’t think we were right together, or something.”
“But you said he likes you.” He folded his slice of pizza and took a bite.
“I think he does. I mean I know he does…I think.” I hated how much I was second-guessing everything now.
The past few days had been borderline magical.
I’d been so worried as the deadline for the blackmailer loomed, and I anxiously awaited the camera footage, but Reid was so great in knowing exactly how to calm me down.
We had movie marathons and went on walks around his neighborhood, bundled in a million layers.
He tried teaching me to cook again. He even let me give him a trim in his bathroom.
It felt like we were together. We hadn’t made it official yet, but I had been certain that was where it was headed.
Then West had to share. Now every bit of self-doubt I’d ever possessed seemed to be screeching in my ear. I’d only shed a few tears on the way over before putting myself together. Jackson was a new friend, and I didn’t want him to see me blubbering constantly.
Gran had raised me to have a thick skin. And for the most part, I did. But the thing about a thick skin was this: once something got through, it didn’t just bounce off. It sunk in and stayed there, trapped, pressing against everything else you’d tried to keep buried.
“You don’t sound so confident.” Jackson bent down and retrieved a glass carafe filled with amber liquid.
Setting it on the counter, he grabbed two short tumblers, dropped a few ice cubes into each with a soft clink, then poured the liquid.
From the fridge, he pulled out a mixer—something citrusy by the look of it—and topped off the glasses, giving each one a slow swirl before sliding one across the counter.
I winced at the smell.
“What is that?”
“Tequila soda.”
“Did you forget the soda?”
He shot me a glare, so I took the beverage, not breathing through my nose as I took a tentative sip. It burned, but I welcomed it. It tasted distinctly like something that would make the churning nerves floating around in my gut subside.
“Bottoms up.” Jackson nodded in approval and tipped his own glass back. “Drink that, we’re heading out soon.”
I nearly choked on my next sip.
“It’s almost ten.” The horror was clear in my tone.
“Yes, Hazel. A typical time for someone in their twenties to go out on a Friday evening. Plus, it’s western night.”
I gave him a blank look.
He rolled his eyes. “Line dancing. Cheap drinks. Bull riding.”
“And we want to go, because…”
“Because it’s fun, Hazel. And your sad, doe eyes look like they need fun right now. And distraction.”
I took another big gulp of the drink. Jackson had a point. Plus, there was no way this could be worse than my last night out—the one Reid had to rescue me from. As cheesy as it sounded, western night could be the perfect thing to help me forget about everything running through my mind.
“Fine, let’s do it,” I said, and Jackson threw up his arms in victory.
He turned up the speaker that had been playing quietly in the background, and we sang along loudly to a throwback early 2000s playlist while we finished our drinks. The alcohol hit me, an unfamiliar warm buzz curling in my chest and making everything a little lighter, less sharp. I didn’t fight it.
Half an hour later, Jackson announced that his friends had just arrived at the bar.
He ducked into his walk-in closet and threw on an all-black outfit faster than a superhero changed into their costume.
I joined him in the bathroom as he ran some gel through his hair.
I lifted my eyelids to inspect myself. The tears I’d shed earlier had taken off most of my mascara, but I was just buzzed enough not to care.
Jackson eyed my outfit. An old lumpy sweater and jeans.
“You’ll be too hot in that,” he said, moving back to his closet and throwing a tight black V-neck t-shirt at me.
I slipped the sweater over my head. “Why do you own this?” I asked, pulling on the tight shirt whose neckline dipped deep into my cleavage.
He just arched an eyebrow and gave me a smile like I was the most na?ve little thing.
Jackson knocked back one more shot of tequila. I declined, considering I was already tipsier than I’d been in ages. I was most definitely a lightweight.
We stumbled out into the freezing night air and into a rideshare car. His place was less than a mile from the bar, but he insisted we ride. “We’re not walking in this,” he’d said, dramatic as ever.
The driver seemed amused by our antics and cranked up the radio at our request. We threw the windows down despite the cold, badly belting out the lyrics and laughing so hard we could barely breathe.
It was the most fun I’d had in ages. I felt alive. And when Jackson leaned into me to sing a high note, I became sure of something. We’d passed that weird hypothetical line in my head from acquaintance to friend. I’d finally let my guard down, and I had zero regrets.
Maybe I was a mess. But messes were fun.
When we spilled out of the car and into the bar, the crowd proved I was the only person in town with an aversion to a late night out. Jackson’s two friends, Benny and Tobias, met us inside. They both had huge smiles and hugged me like it wasn’t our first time meeting.
Jackson tried to shove another drink down my throat, but I was able to appease him by ordering a mocktail instead. I knew my limits.
Jackson slung an arm around me and Tobias. “We need to dance.”
And we did.