Chapter 22
Hazy
The night before Christmas Eve, Hazy couldn’t sleep.
He stared at the faded glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling of his childhood bedroom, growing restless.
The anxiety medication he’d taken for the plane ride had him zonked out cold for four hours, and then he slept again for the two-hour trip from the airport to his parent’s house.
Without Livy, he may never have gotten home, and they’d managed to get in without waking his parents—a feat he’d never been able to pull off himself.
After rolling around in his tiny twin bed for three hours, he gave up, deciding that if he had to struggle to sleep, at least he could get snuggles out of the deal.
He tapped on the door to Livy’s room. She didn’t answer, so he cracked the door to let himself in.
She wouldn’t mind if he curled up next to her.
He found the bed empty, and disappointment filled him until he remembered Livy’s love of the Christmas tree in the dark. He crept down the hallway, intending to join her. At the top of the stairs, soft voices met his ears.
Hazy knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but he heard Livy say, “He makes me crazy,” and all semblance of manners went out the window. Hurt put a heavy weight on his shoulders. He’d been working hard to make her life easier.
His mom saying, “I know, hon,” had him moving, ready to defend himself.
But the words, “Life would be much easier if the men who are actually interested in me made me feel the way he does,” stopped him mid-stride. He sank onto the top step of the stairs, unable to force himself away.
“I thought he would figure it out by now. I’m sorry he hasn’t.”
Livy’s voice cracked. “It’s not meant to be, and that’s okay. I can’t keep waiting on him.”
“But you love him.” He could barely hear his mom’s whisper.
“I always have, and I always will.”
Tears welled in Hazy’s eyes. He’d known she loved him.
She’d told him all those years ago in the treehouse, and he’d stomped on her heart and promptly moved away.
The last few weeks Hazy had been struggling to come to terms with his feelings, but the regret over how he’d handled the situation was growing exponentially every day.
His mom’s simple suggestion of them being more opened the floodgates on all his repressed emotions. His body had taken notice the night Livy shaved his face, and since then he couldn’t unsee it. But he shoved it down. He had no right to think of her that way. He’d squandered his chance.
“But I want this. I want what you have. A beautiful life with a beautiful family. Decades of happy memories and quiet Christmas mornings with my kids. A husband who would go to the ends of the earth for me if I simply asked.”
Hazy would go to the ends of the earth for her. She didn’t need a husband for that. He’d been that for her since day one.
“I want that for you too, honey.”
God, he loved his mother. She might be the only person on the planet who loved Livy as fiercely as she deserved.
“He doesn’t see me as wife material.” Hazy could hear the tears in her voice.
Talk about a knife to the heart. Of course he saw her as wife material. She’d be the best wife anyone could ever hope for, and he would die on that hill. Hazy didn’t measure up. He swallowed the lump in his throat, unsure what to do with the secrets he’d stolen.
He stood to leave them to their private conversation, but didn’t get out of earshot before he heard his mom say, “Is it selfish that I wanted to keep you? I always thought you’d be my daughter someday. I hate that some other mom out there will get to be your kids’ grandma.”
His mom’s words twisted the knife.
He didn’t know what to do with any of this. He didn’t know what he wanted, or whether to bring up his confusion. Hazy left them to finish their talk and went back to bed.
He didn’t have too much time to dwell. Their Christmas trip home passed in a whirlwind of food, presents, and visitors.
The Hales and Livy watched cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies and cult classics, ate their weight in chocolate and ham, and played card games until they were all dozing on the couch, snuggled into one giant pile.
His parents went to bed in the early hours of the morning the night before Hazy and Livy were set to head home, leaving them alone together for the first time the entire trip.
Hazy untangled himself from Livy’s limbs and stood. She unwrapped herself from their blanket to follow him.
“It is getting late,” she said. “We need to be up early.”
He put a hand on her shoulder. “Stay with me a little longer. We can avoid reality for a few more minutes.”
She resettled on the couch, and Hazy quickly poured them big bowls of Lucky Charms.
He handed her a bowl before settling in next to her again, propping his bad leg on the coffee table while he ate. She tossed the blanket over them both and took a bite.
“Sucks I can’t climb yet. I miss the treehouse,” he said.
“At least inside we get to be warm. It gets freaking cold out there.” She slurped milk from her bowl.
He searched every crevice of his brain for the right words but came up empty. He’d never been nervous around her. Never had to second-guess what he should say or mask his emotions. Even during times he maybe should have. He stalled, chewing a too-large bite of cereal and marshmallows.
Before he could articulate his thoughts, she said, “I’ve been thinking.”
“Hmm?” Hazy hummed, his mouth still full.
“It’s time I found a new job.”
He swallowed. This again. “But you have a job. I still need you.”
Livy rolled her eyes. “No, you don’t. Robbie is going to release you for limited activity as soon as we get home. You’re barely limping these days.”
“Well, yeah. I can mostly walk again. But I still need you.”
She smirked. “For what?”
Hazy stared at her, trying to come up with a single thing he still needed help with.
Two and a half months into his recovery, he was almost entirely independent.
He’d transitioned out of crutches weeks ago.
He could shower unsupervised and stand for prolonged periods.
“Like… who would count my PT exercises?”
Livy snorted and bumped her shoulder against his. “You learned how to count to ten in kindergarten like the rest of us.” She stuffed a bite into her mouth.
“C’mon, Livy,” he whined. “You can’t expect me to get better all by myself. I need you to coach me through it. Every step of the way. There’s still three months on your contract.”
They both knew he could get by without her.
But her working for him meant seeing her every day.
She was being well paid, taken care of, and had an obligation to deal with his shit.
Hazy didn’t ever want her to find a different job.
He wanted her to let him take care of her so they could hang out all the time.
Fuck. Was that best friend thoughts? Best friends want to monopolize their best friend’s time, take care of them, never let them stress, and snuggle them every night, right? He did all that with Lover, too.
“You are such a baby. I’m finding a new job. Deal with it. It’ll probably take me months of applying anyway.”
That lifted his spirits, despite his spiraling. She wasn’t backing out of her contract. Months. He could work with months. Maybe by then he would figure out what the fuck his problem was. He needed to talk to Lover. Lover would know what to do.