Chapter 20 Kat
KAT
“I’m so glad you called,” Hazel says with a tired smile.
“I needed to get out of the house and I miss you. I feel like it’s been so long since we’ve caught up.
” Her statement catches me off guard in a good way.
It feels more like the Hazel I knew before she lost her sister, and I’d love to see her find her spark again.
“I feel the same,” I admit as she brushes her light-brown hair out of her face.
It’s cut into an adorable bob that frames her pretty face.
She’s petite with oversized glasses that I know she wears when she’s on the computer a long time and a fashion style that’s somewhere between boho chic and I’m adorable and teach preschool kids.
“The sun feels so nice today. I definitely need to get outside more.” She chuckles and I feel myself relax.
“Are you ready for tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I just get so nervous,” she admits, her hands wrapping around her cup. “And I realized I was almost out of bookmarks and had to rush a shipment so they’d be here for tomorrow.”
“That’s the worst. It took forever putting all my bags together this week, but the manager said this weekend should have a great turnout,” I tell her, trying to reassure us both.
“I hope so.” Leaning forward, she lowers her voice to a whisper.
“Is that guy really your bodyguard? It’s all over social media.
” So, she did see the posts. I try not to let it bother me that she didn’t reach out to see if I was okay.
Brushing off the hurt, I watch as she darts her eyes to where Tom is casually seated in the corner, his back to the wall and his gaze glued to his phone.
He looks like he’s not paying attention but it’s an act.
A really sexy one.
What is with me today?
Being trapped in my house with him is one thing, but I’m sure it doesn’t help that the book I’m working on is now the spiciest thing I’ve ever written.
Courtesy of Tom Oakden.
Silver linings—or silver foxes and all that…
Clearing my throat, I try and deliver my rehearsed line as naturally as possible. “Between us, I got some weird fan mail and my brother freaked out. He’s being overprotective and I’m just trying to deal with it.”
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” she coos, placing her hand over mine and squeezing. “I can definitely understand overprotective family.” She rolls her eyes as if to emphasize she’s making a joke, but it doesn’t sit right with me.
Everyone grieves in their own way.
Forcing a small smile, I sit back in the blue painted metal chair, clutching my vanilla latte in my hands. “How’s writing?”
“It’s slow. I had some ideas before the accident, but I’ve just put everything aside for the time being.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. Everything comes in waves, you know?”
“It definitely does. How’s everything else going?”
“Oh, you know, my aunt is driving me nuts,” she says with a laugh and a deprecating smirk.
“She’s the best with keeping everything organized and up to date and she works for free, but she’s a lot, so…
” She trails off with the shrug of one shoulder as she takes a sip of her tea.
“I know I shouldn’t say that. She’s amazing and I love her but… ”
“She’s enthusiastic,” I offer.
“She’s exhausting and sometimes I just want her to meet me where I am instead of trying to push the envelope, you know?”
“I do.”
“But then I feel guilty because she believes so much in my books and my career and I feel like it’s an endless cycle. I wish I could make this my full-time career, but I’m just not there yet.”
This time, I’m the one to reach for her hand. “We’re allowed to rant about our families even if they test every ounce of our patience. And you will get there. You’ve done so great already.” Pulling back, I raise my cup and she giggles as she taps hers against mine.
“Thank goodness for that,” Hazel says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, not quite meeting my eyes. “Can I tell you a secret?”
My heart starts beating a little harder in my chest as her lips turn up on one side. “Of course.”
“Well…” she says, staring at a chip in the table, “I’ve started writing something a little different.” Hazel peeks up at me through her stylish bangs and blushes. “I haven’t told my aunt or anyone else—you’re the first.”
“Oh my gosh, what are you writing?” I ask, my interest piqued.
“It’s a young adult story. Fantasy.” She practically hisses the word like she’s afraid her aunt is going to jump up at any moment and chastise her for even thinking it.
“Really? That’s great! What’s it about?”
“I’m not very far into the story, but I love the world building. I love the details and the development. It’s so different from what we do.”
“Is this your first non-children’s book?”
“Yeah, I tried to write a romance in college but that was terrible.” Her cheeks are practically crimson and I can’t help but smile.
“Was it filled with sexy scenes?”
“Oh, gosh, no.” She laughs. “I like to read them, like those ones by Sloane Daniels,” she says conspiratorially, and my heart skips a beat in my chest, “but I am not the one to write them. And don’t tell Aunt Amelia about that. She’d be absolutely horrified if she saw what’s on my e-reader.”
“I’ll be sure to accidentally destroy it and clear your search history if it comes to that,” I promise as I hold up my right hand.
“You’re a saint.” My smile falters as she says the word saint, the intonation strange and forced.
God, I’m losing it.
Clearing my throat, I try to focus back on the present. On my friend. Without letting paranoia get the better of me. Without looking for things that aren’t truly there.
“Do you have a date lined up for your novel?”
“What? Oh no, this is just for fun.” She sighs. “You know how my aunt would have a field day if she knew I was writing anything fantasy related.”
I want to tell her she’s allowed to write what she wants and that I can help her keep it hidden.
But I don’t.
Not just because Tom would probably lock me in my house indefinitely but also because deep down, I don’t know if I can trust Hazel to keep my secret.
I hate that this is my reality, so instead I just smile. “I think it’s really great that you’re writing something you’re passionate about. It’s important to have that balance.”
“You’re totally right,” she agrees, looking at her watch. “Do you have to leave, or do you have a couple of minutes? I wanted to go check out the boutique across the street. They have the cutest dress in there I want to try on.”
“Let’s go,” I tell her, typing out a text to Tom, his gaze meeting mine across the room, and for the briefest of seconds, it feels like it’s just us. Shaking the ridiculous thought away, I stand. “I think I deserve a new dress too.”