Chapter 6 #2
“They did.” Tears well up in her eyes. “He lunged at one of the officers with a knife. The knife that still had Marissa’s blood on it. So they shot him. I… watched him die right in front of me.”
Fuck.
FUCK.
No wonder Hazel doesn’t date.
No wonder she keeps to herself.
Now I know where those shadows in her eyes come from.
“That’s why I moved,” she explains. “I couldn’t stay in Boston anymore. I couldn’t stay at my job, not with everyone knowing it was my fault Marissa died.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I reply quickly.
“Wasn’t it? If I hadn’t moved in with Marissa, she’d still be alive. I don’t see how that isn’t my fault.”
“It’s not. It’s that psycho Jason’s fault. Not yours.”
Tears slowly leak down her cheeks. “I liked my life in Boston. Before. I had a nice apartment. Friends. A job I loved.” She pauses.
“I worked for an alternative school. I was one of the outdoor educators there.” A sad smile touches her lips.
“I got my degree in environmental science. Did you know that? I really loved it. Taking the kids on adventures, teaching them about conservation… but I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t.”
I loop my arm around Hazel’s shoulders and hug her to my side. “I’m so sorry.”
“I liked the name. Bliss. And when I looked at the pictures of the town, the pictures of Blissful Brews, it just felt like the right place to go. I’d waited tables in college, so I thought I’d be okay doing it again.
I found a rental that would let me move in right away.
I wasn’t expecting much. I just wanted a quiet place to try to forget. ”
But it’s not that easy, is it?
“I didn’t, obviously,” she continues, answering my unspoken question. “I couldn’t. But I thought it was over, at least. That Jason couldn’t hurt anyone else.”
“But you think—”
“I don’t know.” Hazel lets out a shaky sigh.
“Jason’s dead. So it can’t be him. His mother was his only close relative, but she was devastated by what he did.
She sent letters apologizing to me, to Marissa’s parents…
So I don’t know why she’d want to hurt me.
But I can’t think of anyone in town, either. ”
My thoughts immediately jump to Marissa’s parents. Could they blame Hazel for their daughter’s death, just as Hazel does? Or could Jason’s mother be the one? Perhaps wracked with grief, needing a place to place blame…
Three years is a long time to wait for vengeance. But it’s not impossible.
“I didn’t want to tell people about it,” Hazel says. “I wanted a fresh start here. But if what happened in Boston has anything to do with what’s going on now…”
I give her shoulders a little squeeze. “You’re right to tell me about it. Those are things we can look into.”
She studies me for a few seconds. “Do you—”
“Do I what?”
In almost a whisper, she asks, “Do you think it was my fault?”
Oh.
My heart wrenches.
I hug Hazel closer. “No. It was not your fault at all. Not even close.”
“But if I’d moved out of the city instead of into Marissa’s apartment…”
“He could have followed you there. Hurt someone else. Hurt you.” An alarming thought strikes me. “Did he hurt you? While you were dating? After? In the apartment that day?”
“No. Never. I guess… that’s why I wasn’t more worried. Why I didn’t leave Boston right away. I thought he’d get past it. But… he didn’t.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I say firmly. “It wasn’t.”
But I can tell from her expression she doesn’t believe me.
And I know how deeply the poisonous claws of guilt can sink in. How they can cling for years. How painful they can be.
Hazel sags against me. “So you’ll talk to the rest of the team about it? Do you need me to go over it again?”
The idea of dragging her through another torturous retelling is unacceptable. “No,” I tell her. “I’ll talk to them. I can check the police records to get more information, if I need.”
“Okay.” She sounds so small. Sad. Vulnerable. “Thanks, Alec.”
Protectiveness sweeps through me so quickly I’m breathless from it. Before I can stop myself, my lips brush the top of her head. “Of course, Haze.”
She tilts her head back to look at me. “Haze?”
Shit. Why did I call her that?
“It just came out,” I explain. “But I won’t say it if you don’t like it.”
“No…” A ghost of a smile flits across her face. “I like it.” Then she glances at the TV and says, “So. You said you might stay for a while?”
“Yeah. If you still want me to?”
Her voice takes on a hopeful note. “If you don’t mind?”
“Of course not.” I force down my rage at Hazel’s piece of shit ex and work my features into what I hope looks like a reassuring smile. “Remember what I said? I wouldn’t say it unless I wanted to.”
“Okay.” She grabs the remote off the coffee table, then leans back against me. “Is there anything you want to watch? I don’t really care.”
“Well, I do have an idea.” As she hands me the remote, I add, “They’re not good movies. But they’re funny. And when I’m having a rough time, they help take my mind off things.”
Hazel looks at me with interest. “What kind of movies?”
“Science fiction. But only the bad ones with terrible special effects and acting.”
When she doesn’t respond right away, I quickly add, “Or we could watch something else. Whatever you want.”
Another small smile appears. “Actually, a terrible sci-fi movie sounds perfect.”
“Great.” I turn on the TV and scroll through the menu until I find the movie section. Then I pick a particularly bad movie that always makes me laugh. “This one will be perfect. Squirrelcane.”
Hazel laughs. “Squirrelcane?”
“Yeah. It’s about hurricanes made up of killer squirrels.”
The smile that lights up her face makes me determined to keep putting one there. “Squirrelcane it is,” she says. “I can’t wait to see it.”
But fifteen minutes later, she’s fast asleep on my shoulder.
And as much as I try to keep my attention on the movie, all I can think about is how perfect it feels, with her soft hair tickling my chin and the light puffs of her breath brushing across my neck. All I can focus on is the way her body fits against mine.
I should get up. I should get her settled on the couch with a blanket instead of keeping her snuggled against me. I should leave her a note telling her I went home so I can get at least a few hours of sleep before reporting to the office tomorrow.
But all the should-haves mean nothing compared to the rightness of holding her.
Of being here to make sure she feels safe when she wakes up.
Of protecting her from anything that might hurt her.
So I stay.
And I can’t bring myself to regret it.