Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
HAZEL
The porch light was on at my dad’s. That was my first clue something was off.
My dad never left the porch light on, grumbling about the damn electric bill and how if people needed to see in the damn dark, they should just carry a damn flashlight like in the “good old days.” And yet there it was, glowing like a beacon calling me home.
Like it knew I was raw and rattled enough to actually show up, heartbroken and humiliated and very possibly in stupid, dangerous, soul-rattling love.
I stood there a moment, holding myself upright with sheer willpower and leftover adrenaline. The kind that came from realizing you’d burned down your entire life with one regrettable choice and a hundred smaller cowardly ones.
Two days. That’s how long it had been since I’d lit the match.
Almost immediately, I’d gone back to talk to Tucker, but he hadn’t been around. He’d gone on shift at the fire station, and I hadn’t seen him since. It hurt. We’d been best friends before we’d been anything else, and maybe that was why losing him had felt like losing home.
I worked as much as I could, and when I’d made myself exhausted enough to sleep, I’d crashed in my van.
Not all that long ago, I’d considered it my home.
But after a few weeks at Tucker’s—sitting on his kitchen counter while he made me pancakes, watching movies on his couch with me in his lap and Her Fluffiness in mine, making excellent use of his big, beautiful bed.
And his shower.
And the beanbag in the tree house.…
I sighed at the pleasure the memory brought, then immediately winced, because it was short-lived.
I’d blown all of it to hell.
Now, three days since I’d seen him, after fourteen straight hours at work, I’d gotten into my van, and no matter what radio station I picked, everything that came on was a sad breakup song.
And nothing made me ugly cry faster than a breakup ballad.
The front door opened before I could decide if I was really going in or not. My dad filled the doorway, sleepy-eyed in what looked like a brand-new plaid flannel robe and matching slippers.
He’d never owned a robe or a pair of slippers in his life. This had Sybil written all over it, and I was entirely too wrecked to even crack a smart-ass remark.
Not when he looked so…happy.
His gaze swept over me, taking in the ruined mascara and the trembling hands and the general air of disaster. His brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
I drew a shaky breath. “I miss Mom.” The words broke free like a rip in the hull, immediate and devastating. It made my knees weak, so I collapsed into the porch swing, my shoulders folded inward like I was trying to disappear. “I miss her so much, Dad.”
This seemed to crack him wide open. He sat next to me, voice rough. “Oh, Haze. I miss her too. Every day, with every breath.”
We sat side by side in silence for a bit, the swing creaking gently in the quiet night.
“You’re leaving soon, aren’t you?” he eventually said. “It feels like you’re thinking about it.”
I sniffled. “I would never leave before I know you’re going to be okay.” I didn’t want to leave at all.
What if I let myself believe?
What if I let myself be brave?
What if…what if I told Tucker I loved him?
What if I told him and nothing bad happened?
What if it turned out to be the best thing I’d ever done?
I mean, staying didn’t just mean choosing Tucker. It meant choosing me. The version of me who didn’t flinch, didn’t run. The one who faced the fire, literal or otherwise.
Dad had gone still beside me. “You mean…medically?”
I nodded.
“Oh.”
There was something in his voice that put me on alert, but I was such a wreck, I couldn’t concentrate.
“Something happened, didn’t it?” he asked. “Talk to me.”
So I did.
I told him everything. About hiding the Seattle job offer. About hurting Tucker with it. How being home still scraped me raw, like I was living inside my own unresolved trauma.
And finally, I told him the big one. “I was pregnant when I left here, Dad. I miscarried.”
His face changed, and not just with sorrow. With recognition.
“What?” I asked.
He hesitated, then sighed. “I knew about it.”
My pulse stumbled. “How?”
“Earlier this year, I went looking for scissors. Checked every drawer in the house. I found the sonogram tucked in a book.” His face twisted.
“I’m not gonna lie. It wrecked me. I mean, I’d kicked you out.
I pushed you away from everything you’d ever known.
And then I find that…” He drew a deep breath, his eyes suspiciously shiny.
“I knew based on our calls and the timeline that you hadn’t had a kid, so—” He rubbed at his chest. “Didn’t take much deduction. ”
I stared at him, dread sliding into my heart. “When exactly did you find the sonogram?”
He winced. “Last winter.”
“When you had your heart attack?”
His expression gave it away before he could say a word.
My brain emptied of every thought except one. “Dad, tell me you didn’t pretend to have a heart attack so I’d come home.”
He grimaced. “Would you believe it was a happy coincidence?”
“No. I wouldn’t.” It felt like the floor gave out under me. Of course, he’d used my love as bait. Of course, he hadn’t trusted I might come back on my own. “Did you or did you not have a heart attack?”
“I mean, yes, sort of.”
Oh my God. “How do you ‘sort of’ have a heart attack?”
“It was more like an impending myocardial infarction, which they managed to stop with meds and a balloon angioplasty. So I guess, really, it was like a pre–heart attack.”
“Dad.” I stood up, my own heart pounding. “Yes or no only, please—did you manipulate me into coming home by insinuating your health was on the line?”
He stood too, all pretense dropped. “I was fucking desperate! You wouldn’t come, not even to visit. I thought maybe—” He looked away. “Maybe if you believed I needed you, you’d come. And maybe you’d…want to stay.”
My pulse thumped hard. “You controlled me. Just like when I was a kid. Just like you always do.”
“That’s not what I meant to do. Fuck. Why do you always twist everything?” His voice cracked. “I missed you. I wanted you home. Is that a crime?”
“Dad…are you kidding me? You lied to me. You faked a heart attack, you—” I went still, a terrible feeling coming over me. “Wait—did you force the guys to give me those two finish-carpentry contracts? To agree to offer me their future contracts?”
He scoffed. “Have you met a Colburn? No one forces those stubborn bastards into anything.”
I was still furious but also so relieved that I nearly sat back down, but…there was something in his eyes. I missed something. “You made it happen.” I shook my head. “I don’t know how, but you got them to fire Ricky so they could hire me.”
“Well, it was just sitting right there!” he exclaimed, thrusting out a hand. “It was just too easy. Ricky’s a dick and a disaster to boot. He sabotaged himself.”
Except…he hadn’t. Not this time. “Tell me you didn’t steal his trailer and tools.”
“I temporarily relocated the trailer. And I eventually returned everything.”
“Dad! That’s not—” I took a step back, stunned. “He got arrested and was charged with insurance fraud. For attacking me with my own tools!”
His face fell. “I told you him going after you was on me. I should’ve seen that coming after all that happened.”
Chills swept up my arms. He had told me that, the day Ricky had gone after me. I’d chalked it up to emotions from the wild night. But now…
“He’s going to do jail time,” I whispered. “Again.”
Dad’s eyes went steely. “He crossed a line when he went after you.”
Gutted, I could only stare at him in horror. “You look like a stranger.”
“Everything I did was to help you.”
“I didn’t need help! I was here to help you!
” I shook my head. “But that was all a lie. Even that day my material drop was wrong—you said that the materials coming were still good stuff, that my craftsmanship would make up the difference. But I never told you what they were replacing. You had no way of knowing—except you did. Because you were the one who changed the order.”
He winced. “You did the takeoffs wrong. You chose high-end finishes that would have killed the margin. You’re talented, Hazel, but you’ve still got things to learn.”
“If any of that comes out—”
“It won’t.”
“If it does, they’ll arrest you.”
“For what? Loving my kid?”
“Theft, for starters.”
“Well, hopefully you won’t rat me out.”
I laughed harshly. “Did this all really start with the sonogram?”
“Yes. If you hadn’t left, we’d still be a family. I’d be a grandpa.” He shook his head. “I chased you away. You were alone. I could kill Rob for that. I settled for slashing the fancy tires on his precious BMW.”
I reeled. “Rob? The neighbor? You think Rob got me pregnant?”
He looked confused. “Well, who else?”
“Not Rob!”
“Then who?”
Oh, hell no. I wasn’t touching that.
He stared at me, realization dawning like a slow-motion freight train. “Hazel. I need you to be straight with me. Was it…a Colburn?”
“Dad—”
“Because Caleb and Ryder had left town by then, so that leaves…Tucker.” His hands fisted as he bit down on his molars. “I’m going to kill him.”
“Dad—”
“I love you, Hazel. I do. But right now I need to be alone.” He turned and went into the house.
Maybe that was for the best. I needed to think. I didn’t know how to process any of this, but I needed to in order to figure out what to do about it.
My stomach rolled. God. I was going to have to turn in my own dad. The man who’d taught me to build, who still set an extra cup of coffee out even when I wasn’t home. My throat burned. But if I didn’t stop this now, what was I even doing here?
I’d just gotten to my van when I heard a truck start up. I turned and watched my dad peel out, gravel spinning.
Shit.
So much for processing.
Where would he go? When he was angry, he liked to work, said it calmed him.
The jobsite then.
I hauled ass that way, every nerve in my body buzzing. I was furious. I was gutted. I was all the versions of Hazel I didn’t want to be. The one who blew up relationships, who couldn’t trust anyone, who ran.
Even though I didn’t want to be that girl anymore.
I also didn’t want to turn my dad in, but I couldn’t look the other way on this; I’d never be able to forgive myself. Maybe I could get him to agree to turn himself in. If he was lucky, he might get away with paying restitution instead of jail time.
I could only hope.
Sure enough, his truck was parked out back. I found him in a rear room, staining wood meant for tomorrow’s crew. His hands moved in a methodical rhythm—calm on the outside, chaos on the inside.
“I don’t want to fight,” he said when he saw me.
“Good. Because we don’t have time. You broke the law. Ricky got arrested. You have to turn yourself in.”
“No one made him attack you.”
“Dad.”
He met my gaze—really looked—and nodded like he already knew what was coming.
“For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” he said quietly.
“This all got out of control. I was just trying to prove how good you are and build you up. You’re so talented, Hazel, but you’ve never been appreciated in the way you deserve.
Do I regret chasing you away all those years ago?
Fuck yes. Every single day. Do I regret what I did to get you back here?
Not even a little bit. In fact, I’d do it again in a heartbeat. ”
Had he learned nothing? Heat crawled up the back of my neck. I crossed my arms to keep from flinging a piece of stained oak at his head. “You’d do it again?” I repeated, so angry I could hardly come up with the words.
“I was trying to help you—”
I held up a hand. “No. You didn’t believe in me. You didn’t trust me or my skills, and—” I blew out a breath. “I need more from you if this is ever going to work.”
“If what’s going to work?”
“Our relationship.”
My dad stared at me, stunned. “That’s harsh.”
“That’s truth.” I paused. “You do understand, it’s not up to you whether it comes out or not, right? The only thing up to you is whether you’re going to turn yourself in or force me to do it.”
He studied the wood he’d just stained. “If I do…will you stay?”
I looked at the man who’d raised me. Who’d screwed up, sure, but who’d tried—in his own broken, misguided way. Losing my mom had taken a toll, and he’d lost his way.
So had I. But we were still family. I hadn’t known it until now, not really.
But I truly was done running. I wasn’t going anywhere.
“I was never going to leave.” I just hadn’t admitted it yet.
I watched the surprise hit him. “I’m staying, Dad.
Not just for you. For me. For the version of me who doesn’t run.
For Tucker too, if he’ll still have me—so I’m going to need you to play nice.
” I paused. “But I’ll be here, through whatever comes next. ”
He swallowed hard. Nodded. “I appreciate that. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone now.”
I walked out of the job, stopping at my van to take a deep breath and quell the anxiety roiling within me.
This was bad. Really, really bad. But we could survive it.
I reached for the driver’s side door—and froze.
I smelled smoke. It was faint, barely there—but sharp enough to make the hair on my arms rise.