Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
HAZEL
It was hours before I escaped the ER. Kiera, Emma, and Penny sneaked past the front desk and camped out with me, until Penny launched into a graphic reenactment of the time she and Ryder had gotten caught in his office mid-deed.
By Tucker.
“His face,” Penny said, eyes gleaming over the rim of the ginger ale that she was drinking for her morning sickness that lasted all day. “Pure horror. Like he’d walked in on a nuclear disaster. If he’d been wearing pearls, he’d have clutched them.”
I laughed so hard, I triggered a mild asthma attack. Which, apparently, gave the nurses an adrenaline jolt, because they swarmed me like I was coding. My friends got booted while I got hovered over like I was flatlining.
Honestly, how many mortifying things could happen to one girl in a single day?
Finally, Allie showed up with my discharge papers. She waited until I was signing to casually say, “So. You and Tucker…”
I nearly dropped her iPad. “W-what?”
She gave me a knowing smile. “The whole town’s been talking about you both. Wondering if you’re going to chase him again.”
I just stared at her. The again part had me lifting my chin. “Never.”
“I mean,” she added, ignoring my comment, “that face of his isn’t hard to look at.” She winked. “Neither is anything else of his…”
The memory of his anything else had been indelibly imprinted in my mind. His jawline. His hands. His firefighter’s grip. His ridiculously perfect ass… I sighed as my betrayal-happy brain played a montage reel across the back of my eyelids.
Allie left with a wink, and I sat there, stuck in a hospital gown that seemed determined to flash my butt to the world. My clothes were bagged, still wet and filthy.
Excellent.
Everyone not wearing scrubs had been kicked out, which meant it was time to do something I hated more than mansplaining, humidity, guys in flip-flops, and motivational TikToks combined.
I was going to have to do my least favorite thing: ask someone for help.
Then the curtain swung aside and in walked Kiera.
As always, she was effortlessly put together: perfect jeans, perfect messy updo, perfect resting judgment face.
Caleb always teased her that the reason she had zero patience for BS was that on the day they’d handed out patience, she’d left early when it took too long.
But what I loved about her? On the inside, she was chaos, just like me.
She went through her oversize bag and pulled out jeans, a tee, sneakers, even a bra and undies—all mine.
“How did you—”
“Tucker,” she said.
Tucker had picked out my bra and undies… I pretended that didn’t give me a secret little thrill.
“He got your van to your dad’s too.”
That’s all. No big deal. Just a guy taking care of things without being asked, like he always had.
I changed quickly, ignoring the prickle in my chest that refused to be called longing, shoving it all deep down, where I kept all my messy emotions. I tied my shoes, stalling, then finally looked up.
Kiera raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“You know what.”
“Not you too,” I said, shaking my head. “Nothing’s going on. We hardly ever even see each other.”
“You live with your dad. Tucker bought our childhood home several years ago, which means he’s living right next door to you. How do you”—she used air quotes—“‘hardly ever even see each other’?”
“There’s gotta be something better to talk about.”
“Oh, there is.”
I eyed her warily. “Why am I scared?”
“Did you know you and my brother get discussed more than the elusive Star Falls Legend?”
I laughed.
She did not.
“In case I haven’t mentioned, it’s annoying as hell that everyone remembers my wild youth and expects me to be that same person.”
“You sure that’s not you projecting?”
Kiera always knew where to aim the arrows, but I rolled my eyes. “And anyway, how elusive can the Legend be when not one but two Colburn brothers saw it this year?”
Kiera grinned. “Three.”
“What?”
“Three brothers.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Tucker was there both times.”
My chest squeezed. My brain called it adrenaline. My heart knew better.
I considered myself a pragmatic, unflappable person. It took a lot to shake me. But my palms were suddenly sweaty, my heart racing.
Clearly just residual adrenaline.
Kiera was watching me closely, with a tiny smile I didn’t like one bit. I repeated, “What?”
“Oh, nothing.” Her smile was all fake innocence.
I deflected like it was my job. “Circumstantial evidence.”
She didn’t push. That wasn’t Kiera’s way. Nope, she’d file it away to dig into later.
I was officially on borrowed time. And she had a perfect memory and a long game.
It was fully dark by the time Kiera dropped me off.
“Thanks,” I said, and before I could reach for the door, she yanked me into a bone-crushing hug that knocked the wind out of me.
“You do know I was just hospitalized, right?” I joked, gently patting her back.
“It’s called a comfort hug. Take it like a grown-up.”
“You’re the worst,” I mumbled and hugged her tight. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been craving human contact.
When she finally released me, she met my gaze. “You didn’t want to ask for help.”
“Who does?”
“Normal people. And you’re not alone. Like it or not, you’ve got us Colburns. Yes, we’re bossy—”
“And nosy.”
“Accurate,” she said. “But get used to it; we’re not going anywhere.”
I was caught off guard to feel my eyes stinging. “Hadn’t noticed.” I squeezed her hand. “Thanks for taking time from the twins to help me out.” Four-year-old Abi and Alex, aka nature’s cutest wrecking balls in action and the wildest dictators I’d ever met.
Kiera hugged me again. “Anytime.”
I waited until she drove off, just to make sure she didn’t see me climb into the back of my van.
When I was inside, I took a deep breath and looked around, making sure everything truly was okay.
Simple, clean, mine.
I’d built the cabinets along one side and added soft lighting, which gave the interior a golden glow. The mattress, tucked beneath a panel, pulled out smooth and fast.
It was home. Not forever. But for now, it allowed me to pretend I wasn’t afraid to want more for myself.
I changed into pj’s—a tank that said Don’t Make Me Use My Power Tools and bright pink sleep shorts—then collapsed onto the bed under my perfectly weighted blanket.
But I couldn’t sleep.
My chest felt tight.
Lonely.
And how I hated that word.
Maybe it was being back in a town that knew both too much and not enough about me. Maybe it was the awkwardness with my dad, living here after he’d once kicked me out of the house.
Maybe we were both haunted by the same ghost.
Or maybe…maybe I still had that dream tucked inside me, the one where I grew roots and built something that couldn’t be taken away.
Like a life. A family. A real home, one with a front-porch light left on, someone to notice when I was late, no exit plan required.
And…now, great, I needed to pee. Awesome. I didn’t have a bathroom, not yet at least, so it was either hold it or head into my dad’s house.
I lay there debating, but I really had to go. Option two it was. I threw on a sweatshirt, jammed my feet into my sneakers, and slipped outside.
My childhood home sat at the end of a cul-de-sac. The street parallel to ours was another cul-de-sac, with that end house across from ours.
Tucker’s.
All I could see of his place was the side of his garage, which had been handy all these months in aiding me to avoid him. It was a dark night, and I had no idea if he was home or not. I told myself I didn’t care either way.
Still had to pee.
Nothing was lit at my dad’s house except the porch, so he was probably asleep.
This made things easier. Since I’d forgotten my key inside the van, I crept around back, knowing the back door never got locked.
After all the times I’d sneaked home past curfew, I could’ve done this in my sleep.
Nostalgia washed over me, annoyingly tender.
I wasn’t sorry to be here, not really. My dad’s heart attack had been an eye-opener. A scary one.
This was a chance to try to be a family again, before it was too late.
Plus, I’d missed the sense of home. I’d missed a lot of things.
Except Tucker. Or at least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
On the back porch now, I had my hand on the door handle when it jerked open, startling me.
Then a light snapped on, and I was face-to-face with a baseball bat.
“Shit, Hazel.” My dad in boxers, still brandishing said bat, glared at me. “You’ve got to stop lurking like a squirrel with a bladder problem.”
I breezed past him and into the downstairs bathroom. When I came out, he was still in the kitchen, now eating a bowl of cereal.
“Seriously?” I asked.
“It’s Cheerios, doctor approved. Says right on the box.”
“You should be sleeping.”
“And you should move into this house so I stop thinking I’ve got a prowler every five minutes.” He shoved in another bite, slurping up milk. “With a bladder the size of a pea.”
Move in? I…couldn’t. “Dad,” I said softly. “You know I’m only here temporarily. Once you’re good, I go back to my life.”
“So then temporarily sleep in your old bed.”
I didn’t know how to tell him that walking down that photo-laden hallway to my old bedroom meant walking past every frozen memory of Mom. A time capsule. A love story from my past. “I’ll think about it.”
“Really?”
“If you change the subject.”
He sighed. “Fine. I saw the work you did out on the festival grounds off Highway One. The pavilion looks amazing.”
“Thanks.”
“Why didn’t you change out the expensive white oak for the more economical pressure-treated pine?”
I swallowed my knee-jerk defensiveness. “Because I like white oak, and so does my client.”
He chewed on that, then nodded.
Wow, that was progress. I smiled. “Did we just…not argue?”
“Maybe?” He looked as shocked as I felt.
With a rough laugh, I turned to the door. “I’m heading back to bed. You’re okay?”
“That’s my question to you.”
“I’m fine. I’m not the one who had a heart attack.”
“No, you’re just the one who went into anaphylactic shock.” He let out a breath.
“Sorry to be a trial.”