Chapter 6
ALEC
“Oh, Alec, it’s so cute.”
For the first time since I saw Hazel sitting in the police station, a hint of enthusiasm tinges her voice.
As soon as we step inside the client cabin—well, one of them, since we have three—Hazel comes to a stop; her head on a swivel, taking everything in.
And if I put myself in her shoes, never having seen the place before, I can understand her reaction. The cabin is nice. Better than nice, really.
With a lofted ceiling and large windows, it looks much bigger inside than out.
A custom-built stone fireplace sits on one wall, with a comfortable couch facing it.
The open-concept living space is decorated all in muted blues and greens and grays; with matching pillows and throw blankets and painted landscapes.
Beyond the living room, there’s a small kitchen with butcher block counters and stainless appliances and an island with several stools at it. At one end of the kitchen is a handmade wooden table with a chair on either side and a bowl of fruit at the center.
The entire space smells warm and welcoming, the scent reminding me of my parents’ kitchen whenever my mother would bake. It’s air freshener, Winter told me one time, meant to smell like freshly baked cookies. And taking another deep sniff of it, I’d have to agree.
“You like it?” I ask.
Hazel turns to face me. A slight smile touches her lips. “It’s so nice, Alec. When you said cabin… I had no idea.”
“We wanted people to feel comfortable here. I know it’s not home, but hopefully it’s better than a hotel room.”
“It’s better than any hotel room I’ve ever seen,” she replies. “This is like a perfect little getaway. If I were on vacation, I’d love to stay in a cabin like this.”
A moment later, her smile fades. Because she’s not on vacation.
She’s staying here out of necessity. And regardless of how nice the cabin is, it’s not home.
It doesn’t have all her photos displayed on the walls or rows of travel books arranged on worn wooden shelves.
It doesn’t have pale pink pillows on the couch or matching curtains on the windows.
It’s nice. But undoubtedly, she’d rather be home.
But I don’t want to give Hazel a chance to think about all the things she’s missing. Instead, I take her hand and say, “Let’s take a look in the kitchen. We can make a list of things you need.”
As her small hand wraps around mine, my brain shorts out for a second.
It feels good.
Too good.
Something so small shouldn’t shake me this much. It’s not like I’ve never held a woman’s hand before. In fact, I held Hazel’s hands only hours before, when I first found her at the police station.
But this feels different. I can’t explain why. It just does.
I know I should let her go. Stop enjoying the sensation of her soft skin against mine.
But I don’t want to.
Instead, I hang on to her hand while I open the fridge.
Hazel leans closer to peer inside, her shoulder bumping mine and her hair brushing my chin.
She smells of roses and vanilla, seductive yet sweet, and I’m seized by the urge to not just hold her hand, but pull her into my arms and keep her there as long as she’ll let me.
I wouldn’t, of course.
“Well,” I say, forcing my attention back to the fridge, “it looks like Winter stocked it with the basics. Milk, creamer, condiments, eggs, cheese… but if you make a list, I can pick everything you need up at the store tomorrow.”
Hazel looks at me in confusion. “How are there fresh eggs and milk if she didn’t know I was coming until a couple of hours ago?”
I don’t want to tell Hazel that Winter probably used her own supplies and give her something else to apologize about. Instead, I just reply vaguely, “Oh, I’m sure she had extra.”
Hazel gives me a doubtful look but doesn’t call me on it. “Well, that was really nice of her. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to go to the store. After tonight, and yesterday…”
I shut the refrigerator door and lead her back towards the living room. Once we reach the couch, I gesture for her to sit, then take a seat beside her. “I don’t mind. Really.”
“But—”
“I’m not doing anything I don’t want to. Okay? Going to the police station, bringing you here, picking up food tomorrow… those are all things I’m choosing to do. So stop telling me I don’t have to. I know. I want to.”
Hazel blinks at me. Moisture shines in her eyes.
Shit.
Did I make her cry?
Shit.
“Haze, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She swallows hard. Blinks again. “You didn’t. I’m just… I think I’m just tired, is all. Overwhelmed.”
The knot in my chest releases. “Of course you’re tired. If you don’t want to come up with a list tonight, that’s okay. You can let me know tomorrow.”
“I don’t have my phone.” She frowns. “I didn’t grab it. It’s still at my house.”
“It’s okay. Someone can bring you over tomorrow to pack. It might not be me, since I have to go into the office for a while, but one of the other guys can.”
Hazel looks at me for a second before frowning again. “Oh, Alec. I’m so sorry. It’s late. I’m sure you want to go home.” She casts her gaze around the living room. “I’m fine now. I’ll just explore the cabin, maybe watch some TV…”
And not sleep.
That’s the unspoken part of it.
Not when she’s haunted by so many traumatic memories. Not when she’s reminded of the violence of the last two days every time she closes her eyes.
I know that’s what’ll happen, because I’ve had enough of those nights myself.
And shit. I don’t want to leave her like that. Sitting alone on the couch, scared, lonely, hurting…
“I could stay and watch TV for a while,” I offer. “If you wanted some company.”
Hope lights her eyes for a moment.
But a second later, it dims.
Her hand goes cold and stiff in mine.
Right before my eyes, she seems to shrink. Almost like she’s curling into herself.
This isn’t a rejection of my idea. I’m certain of it.
“Haze?” Worry roughens my voice. “What’s wrong?”
She doesn’t answer. Her gaze goes distant. A shudder shakes her body.
“Hazel?” I wrap both my hands around hers. “What is it?”
Is she having a flashback? The start of a panic attack? A delayed reaction to the attack at her house?
Then Hazel exhales heavily. Her eyes refocus on mine. “Alec.”
“What? Do you need a doctor? Are you in pain? Tell me how I can help.”
She shakes her head. “No. I don’t need a doctor. I just… I thought of something. I don’t know how it could be related, but…”
I sit up straighter. “What is it?”
Her fingers tighten around mine. “Something happened before I moved to Bliss. It’s… it’s why I moved here, really.”
An ominous prickle creeps up my neck. “What happened?”
Hazel’s gaze meets mine. Her eyes are dark and haunted. “I haven’t told anyone in town. The only person who knows is my friend, Jess.” She pauses. “Well. That’s not really true. The police in Boston know. And anyone who read the articles in the news.”
“The police?”
“Although,” she continues, almost as if she didn’t hear me. “My name wasn’t mentioned,” she continues. “Just his. And Marissa’s.”
A weight settles in my gut. “Who?”
She pulls her hands away from mine, twisting them together. Her gaze dips to her lap. After a few silent seconds, she says, “Jason Kinney. My ex.”
“Your ex?”
“At first, I thought he was nice. But after we’d been dating for several months, he started acting… Well. He got really possessive. Clingy. He didn’t want me doing anything without him. I didn’t like it, so I broke up with him.”
With a small sigh, Hazel continues, “He didn’t take it well. For the next couple of months, he kept badgering me to take him back. Calling. Texting. Sending gifts. Sitting outside my apartment door, waiting for me to come home.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.” Her gaze lifts to mine again. “I was getting scared. So I went to the police, but they said there wasn’t anything they could do.”
My jaw clenches. “Nothing?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing. Jason never made any threats. So I couldn’t prove I was in danger.”
I’m almost afraid to ask. “So, what happened?”
“I’d already blocked his number, but it didn’t stop the gifts.
The letters. The visits to my apartment.
One of my coworkers was looking for a roommate, so I decided to move in with her.
I thought it would finally get the idea across to Jason that I wasn’t interested.
” She stops. Shakes her head again. “I was so stupid.”
“Moving to get away from a dangerous situation isn’t stupid.”
“Maybe not. But dragging someone else into my mess was.” Her teeth dig into her lower lip. “When I moved in, I told Marissa about Jason. I didn’t think he’d find me there, but I warned her, just in case. I said he hadn’t made any threats, but I was worried he might.”
After another long pause, Hazel says, “He showed up there. At her apartment. I stayed late at work that day, so I wasn’t back yet.
She—” Her voice wobbles. “Marissa was so sweet. She always saw the best in people. I’m sure he gave her some sob story about how sorry he was.
How he wanted to fix things. And… she let him in. ”
Hazel looks at me with tortured eyes. Guilt is etched into her features. “He killed her. I got home to find him inside the apartment with her… her body. Not Marissa anymore. Her dead body.”
“Hazel.”
The rest of her words spill out in a quivering rush.
“He blamed her for keeping us apart. He said he realized it wasn’t my fault we broke up.
It was Marissa’s. He said he fixed it so we could be together again.
He wanted to blame her death on a burglary.
And I was going to move in with him, since I couldn’t stay at a crime scene. He… he had it all figured out.”
“Shit.”
“He was going to make me go with him. But… I stalled. I pretended to go along with his idea. Long enough to trigger the emergency alert on my watch and wait for the police to arrive.”
“So they got him?”