Chapter 3
HAZEL
After last night, I have a chill I can’t seem to shake.
The emergency room doctor warned me about it, explaining that although I didn’t end up with hypothermia—thanks to Alec’s help—the exposure to cold water coupled with the shock of the accident could leave me feeling cold and shaky for another day or so.
Honestly, if feeling cold and sore is all I have to deal with, I’m considering myself lucky.
Extremely lucky, really.
After all, things could have gone much differently last night.
If I’d been knocked out by the crash, or too badly injured to move, I never would have been able to get to the back windshield to break it.
If I didn’t have that tool my dad gave me, it might not have mattered, anyway.
And if Alec hadn’t been there… I’m not sure I would have been able to get to the surface, let alone to the shore.
So it was a perfect blend of good fortune, when I think about it.
Obviously, driving off the road into a river isn’t good. Neither is having to get a new car when I’m pretty sure insurance won’t cover all of it. Adding some new terrifying memories to the bank I already have of them isn’t great, either.
But I’m alive. Relatively unhurt, except for some violent-looking bruises across my chest and a swollen, painful nose. I’ll get a new car. One with brand new brakes that I’ll make absolutely sure will work.
Alec wasn’t happy when I told him about the brakes failing.
And I heard him calling poor Max—the owner of Ellicott’s Engines—while he waited in the hallway for the doctor to examine me.
Sounding darkly serious, Alec’s deep voice carried into the room as he said, “Max. I’m not accusing you of anything.
I know your work is impeccable. But if one of your newer guys worked on Hazel’s car…
Look. Mistakes happen. But we need to know why this happened.
Eight-month-old brakes shouldn’t be failing. ”
Max said he’d check his records and speak with all his employees.
And I admit I feel a little sorry for anyone on the receiving end of his ire.
Max has always been nice to me, but he’s definitely not the warm, approachable type.
At least a foot taller than me and twice my size, with huge muscles and tattoos all over his body, he’s basically the poster child for intimidating.
If it was someone at Max’s shop, I won’t do anything about it.
Officer Quillian, who spoke with me at the hospital along with his partner, Officer Nelson, threw out the option of suing.
“If the brakes were faulty or installed incorrectly,” he said, “you’ve got a real case for a lawsuit.
Not that I’m suggesting it, but depending on what we discover once we retrieve your car, it’s an option. ”
But I would feel terrible suing someone who works for Max, or worse, Max himself. Not when I’ve waited on them at Blissful Brews. Not when I’ve said hello around town. Not when I’ve grown to care about everyone who lives in Bliss.
And I’m okay. A little bruised, but far from broken. I’ll figure out the whole car thing. If I have to work some extra shifts to make up the difference, that’s fine.
I won’t be making money today, though. Even if I was feeling up to it, which I’m honestly not, Frank wouldn’t let me.
He called first thing this morning, beside himself with worry.
First apologizing for waking me up—he didn’t, I finally gave up trying to sleep at five AM after being haunted by memories of my car hurtling into the water—and then informing me that I wasn’t coming to work today.
“You take as much time as you need,” he told me. “Today for sure. The whole week, if you want. You just tell me when you’re coming back.”
Tomorrow. Because I’m sure one day of sitting like a lump on the couch will be plenty. Plus, I need to work. Not just for my car, but to pay for all those other, annoying bills. Rent on my house. Utilities. Insurance. Student loans. Food. My monthly subscription to Tenebris Veil.
Speaking of Tenebris Veil, I thought playing for a couple hours might help with this restless, unsettled feeling I’m having. But it didn’t work. None of my friends from the game were on—which wasn’t surprising, since they all work full-time jobs and it was midmorning.
I knew Jess wouldn’t be online, either. When I finally texted her late last night to apologize for blowing her off, she replied immediately, saying she had to work today but she’d call the second she got home.
After half an hour of trying to amuse myself with crafting and decorating my virtual house and selling wares on the market, I finally gave up and settled on watching TV instead.
So for the last two hours, I’ve been half-watching reruns of Anthony Bourdain while trying not to think about how great Alec was last night and how much I wish he was here right now.
It’s silly, really.
I’ve lived alone for years and always been fine with it.
In truth, I’ve preferred it.
I don’t socialize aside from events sponsored by Blissful Brews or Barks n’ Bliss, the local dog shelter and now-training facility owned and run by Rory, who’s engaged to Alec’s good friend and GMG teammate, Gage.
When I’m not working, I’m usually exercising in the little home gym I have set up in my guest bedroom, playing Tenebris Veil, cleaning, or sleeping.
It’s not the life I imagined for myself when I was younger, that’s for sure. But it’s predictable. Safe. Living like this, there’s little chance of—
The doorbell chimes, its unexpected sound making me jump.
I snatch up the remote and mute the TV, then grab my phone to see who’s at the door.
In the seconds it takes for the video doorbell app to load, I run through the list of possibilities.
Frank. Wendy. My next-door neighbor, Paula, who loves baking and sometimes brings over a plate for me. The mailman, Jethro, who likes to hand deliver packages instead of just leaving them on the porch because—in his words—it adds a personal touch.
But it’s none of those people.
It’s Alec.
My daredevil heart leaps to my throat before making an acrobatic swoop to my stomach.
If I thought Alec was great before, it’s nothing compared to now.
Not after he pulled me from the car, swam me to shore, carried me to safety, and held me in his lap until the ambulance arrived.
Not after he insisted on staying at the hospital until I was released several hours later, driving me home, and checking my house to make sure it was secure.
Not after giving me his personal phone number—on a piece of paper, because my phone is currently at the bottom of the river—and telling me to call if I needed anything.
Is it bad that I keep thinking about how nice it was to be held by him? Or how strong his arms felt as he gathered me to a very muscly chest?
On the little video feed, Alec waves at the camera with one hand while holding up a large, brown paper bag with the other. As I hit the speaker button, his voice carries through it, saying, “Hey. I don’t know if you’re up for visitors, but I thought I’d stop by to see how you’re doing.”
Self-conscious alarm shoots through me. When I got dressed this morning, I was aiming for comfort, not style.
So I’m wearing my baggiest sweats and an ancient hoodie from college that’s so worn, half the lettering on the front is gone.
Now it says U S Am instead of what it originally said nearly fifteen years ago, which was U MASS Amherst.
My hair has definitely seen better days, too. I didn’t have the energy or motivation to blow dry it this morning, so I just pulled it back into a messy braid instead. And thanks to the air bag smacking me in the face, my nose is swollen and I have the start of two black eyes.
Do I want Alec to see me like this?
No. Not particularly. Despite my repeated reminders to myself that Alec and I are casual acquaintances at best, I’d prefer he see me wearing something that actually fits instead of looking like I’m wearing an elephant’s clothing.
And don’t even get me started on my face.
“If you’re not feeling up to visitors,” Alec continues, “I understand. But I brought some soup over. From The Laughing Goat. I thought it might help if you’re feeling chilled.”
My traitorous heart goes all mushy.
He brought me soup.
Even though he’s undoubtedly busy, he made the trip from his office in Stowe to come visit.
Tossing my fleece throw to the side, I get up from the couch and head towards the front door. As I go, I tap the little microphone icon on the screen and say, “No, it’s fine. I’ll be right there.”
Ugh.
Could I sound any less enthusiastic?
Just because I’m feeling icky and insecure doesn’t mean I should take it out on Alec.
Forcing a smile to my face, I unlock the doorknob and unfasten the deadbolt, then pull open the door. In an apologetic tone, I start, “Sorry to keep you waiting—”
But the instant I see him face-to-face, the rest of my thoughts float away like dandelion seeds on the wind.
Somehow, he looks even more handsome than any other time I’ve seen him.
Or maybe it’s that my perception of Alec has changed.
Maybe it’s because in the battle between my heart and my mind, right now my heart seems to be winning.
Alec’s smile fades as he inspects me, and he reaches towards my face before stopping mid-way. “Ah, Hazel. Your eyes.”
That stupid insecurity comes rushing back in, and I have to fight myself not to instinctively duck my face. But I keep my head held high as I say, “I know. They started bruising late last night. It looks pretty bad, doesn’t it?”
“Oh, no.” He grimaces. “That’s not what I meant. Shit. I’m sorry. I just meant it looks painful. But not bad. There’s no way you could ever look bad.”
A beat later, a hint of red colors his cheekbones. Shaking his head, he adds, “I’m really sorry, Hazel. Here I am, insulting you the second you open the door.”