Chapter 3 Logan #2
She looks down at the clowder of cats on her forearm. “Thank you. After everything today, that was the least painful part about it.” She runs her finger along the row of bandages. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because I’ve been, I don’t know…” She avoids direct eye contact. “I’m in a bad mood. And you helped me. With wet clothes on.”
Hazel doesn’t play games. She’s straightforward and blunt, and when she’s mad, it’s clear.
Her honesty is refreshing and attractive as hell.
I dip my head to meet her eyes. “I guess I didn’t want to say goodbye yet,” I confess. “And it’s my fault you were all scratched up, so it didn’t feel right to leave you like that.”
This is the moment we both realize her arm is still in my hand. By the looks of it, she’s surprised, too. There’s an energy in the air around us. That’s the best way I can describe it. A spark, a pulse.
She doesn’t jerk her arm away. Instead, she lingers, drawing out this physical connection between us.
She turns her arm so that her fingers graze my forearm, the texture of her Band-Aids brushing against the pads of my fingertips.
Hazel’s lips part briefly before she presses them together and sits back, pulling her arm away with the movement.
“So, October is your month, huh? Is something big happening?” she asks.
I squeeze my hand into a fist. “I do happen to have a huge event next month. Opening night,” I say.
“It’s my first show as head carpenter. Wendy said I need to act on my goals.
They won’t just happen. And it can’t be about money or fame.
I need to have a deeper connection with my ideas.
” I toss all the extra supplies and garbage into the bag.
Hazel sits back against the bench. “Wow. That’s… great.” She goes quiet for a few long seconds, and I think that’s the end of it. Then she adds, “I don’t really know you, but it sounds like you need that luck as much as I do.” Her tone is softer toward me than it’s been all afternoon.
“I know what you’re thinking. Us white men in America need all the luck we can get,” I say sarcastically.
I get a single laugh—and an eye roll—at that. “What was the first card?” she asks. “The past.”
I toss a handful of candy into my mouth while I recall Wendy’s interpretation of the card that had a peaceful-looking person sitting next to incense, the smoke a wavy river floating overhead.
“She said I was fortunate, but that I’ve also had hardships that I’ve overcome,” I share.
It was too vague to know for sure what she might’ve been referencing, but her words stirred up memories of the accident eleven years ago.
The turn of events. Rejecting life as I knew it.
The luck. So much luck. “I kind of want to see if she’s right.
” I wave the lottery play slip in the air.
“And then I’m going to split whatever I win with you. ”
“Yeah, okay. Give me half. Really excited for that,” Hazel says with a teasing smile. “You know, it’d be easier for you to withdraw cash from the ATM.”
I grin. “But where’s the fun in that? Isn’t this what people do? Go to a fortune teller, get told something fortuitous, buy a lotto ticket?”
Hazel scoffs. “Yeah. You’re right. They do.”
“I know we have a better chance of waking up tomorrow having like, body swapped or something, but—” I shrug. “I’m curious, is all. Let’s just see.”
“What’d I say?” she says with a hint of laughter in her voice. “Pressing your luck.”
“Go big or go home, right?”
“I’ll take going home,” Hazel says, but she doesn’t make a move to leave.
I think maybe her curiosity has won out. I uncap the blue pen. “We can choose five numbers between one and sixty-nine. Then one number will be our Powerball. It can be one to twenty-six. I know you don’t gamble, but would you be willing to pick the Powerball number?”
Hazel starts to shake her head, seemingly changing her mind halfway through. “Okay. For you, I will,” she says, her eyes lingering on mine. “Six.”
I fill in my numbers and then go pay for the ticket, taking the play slip and pen with me while Hazel watches Toffee. When I return, I hold out the ticket. “I’ve thought about it, and I think you should hang on to this.”
Hazel’s eyebrows furrow into a V-shape. “You thought about it on your walk from here to there and back again? You should take more time with that idea.”
“Maybe my fortune will rub off on you,” I say. “I want you to have some luck, too.”
She flashes a look at me as if to communicate you’re not serious.
“Luck isn’t contagious,” she says, standing to meet me. She sets Toffee on the ground. “You can’t just… transfer it.”
“Not with that attitude, you can’t.” Again, I try handing her the ticket.
Hazel holds her hands behind her back. “I’m serious. You don’t want me touching that thing. Didn’t you hear my bad fortunes?”
“You think your luck is so bad that, if you touch this ticket, it won’t, what? Win millions?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she says, her mouth a hard line.
Just like before, under the tent, we’re in a standstill, our eyes locked on each other. And just like the first time, Hazel’s not smiling, but this time, her eyes are. There’s that warmth shining through, directed right at me. It’s overwhelming in the best way.
“Okay. What about this?” I continue when Hazel doesn’t budge. “According to my Welsh grandparents, black cats bring good luck.” I rub both sides of the ticket on Toffee’s black fur. He looks up at me, annoyed. I try to hand her the ticket. “Here.”
I so badly want to prove her wrong. It’s also possible I want to alleviate some guilt. Who’s to say my good fortunes weren’t originally hers? But given my history of good luck, I doubt it.
Hazel looks at me reluctantly, ultimately giving in. “Fine.” Our fingers collide in the ticket exchange, the static electricity from Toffee’s fur giving us both a little shock. “Nope,” she says immediately, trying to hand the ticket back to me. “We almost set the thing on fire.”
A deep laugh escapes me. “Or maybe that was the lightning Wendy was talking about.”
“I think it was a mistake to let me touch it. It’s a loser now.”
“Okay, hang on to it for a sec. Let me just look this up,” I say, typing into my phone. “The next draw is…” I look at the time: 11:01 p.m. “Now.”
And then right there on the screen, the numbers come into focus. Below today’s date are six all-too-familiar numbers.
10. 13. 30. 31. 23. 6.
A garbled noise crawls its way out of my throat.
“Knew I shouldn’t have touched it,” Hazel says, pushing the ticket back into my hand.
I confirm the numbers.
“No, Hazel…” I stand and pace in front of the bench. “We won.”
She lets out a small laugh. “Oh yeah? What’d we win? A gazillion dollars?” She’s saying this to Toffee in a funny voice as she scratches his chin.
“Hazel. I’m serious. We won.” I turn my phone toward her and hold up the ticket next to it.
Hazel’s eyebrows shoot up. “I—We—”
For a few seconds, we just stare at each other. Then the shock erupts into excitement.
“We—we won the lottery!” Hazel says as she leaps off the bench and launches toward me in a hug. We jump up and down together, our laughs and oh my gods and holy shits blending.
“Oh my shit,” I blurt out. Nothing makes sense right now.
“Holy god,” she says breathlessly as she presses her hand over her chest. “Thirty million dollars?”
I nod rapidly. “We won’t get the whole amount, with taxes and everything. Millions still, probably.”
The death of Hazel’s smile is quick and sudden. Now she’s just standing there… blinking.
“Wow. This is—I don’t even know. Wild. Surreal,” I say, checking the numbers again. “Unusual.”
Her eyes lock with mine. “Unusual?” she says, looking a little pale and a lot panicked. “This is more like impossible. Inconceivable. It doesn’t happen. And it definitely doesn’t happen to someone on their first time playing the lottery. No.” She looks around. “This isn’t happening right now.”
“I know, I can’t believe it either,” I agree. “We need to claim it somehow. Put our names on the back.”
Hazel puts her hands up. “No. Wait.” She raises her eyes to meet mine. “Don’t put my name on it. I—I don’t want any of the money. It’s all yours.”
A surprised laugh tumbles out. “Hold on. We win the lottery, and you… don’t want a single dime?”
Maybe this is what shock looks like on her. If she’s feeling anything like what I am, this is… a lot.
“I don’t,” she says, quickly shaking her head. “Money like that just brings problems.”
“But I promised you. Half of this is yours.”
Her expression softens. “That’s really good of you. But you can break your promise. I won’t be mad,” she says casually, like she’s used to promises not being kept. She gathers up her things, tossing one last candy cherry into her mouth.
“We don’t have to decide on anything right now. Let’s just…” I try to think of something useful. “Let me take you out to dinner.”
Hazel, half turned, spins to face me. The stunned look from seconds ago dissolves into something more amused. I feel the same jolt of electricity from earlier when she licked her lips.
“We’re way past dinnertime,” she says.
“A midnight snack, then?” I try. “I need to make up for the dim sum. And to celebrate, you know, this.”
She takes a step closer to me. “You just can’t stop pressing, can you?”
I move toward her, dipping my head to look into her eyes that won’t leave mine. “I’m going to press one more time.”
Hazel swallows. She’s so close I can smell the cherry on her lips. Then, before either of us says anything else, she puts her mouth on mine.
The kiss takes my breath away. It feels like it isn’t the first one between us—and that it won’t be our last. If the air wasn’t charged before, it’s full-on vibrating now.
But then Hazel pulls back, and I immediately miss her mouth.
She steps away. “Oh my—I’m so sorry,” she mumbles, pressing her knuckles to her lips.
I move forward to meet her. “I’m not.”
Her cheeks flood with pink. “I don’t know why I did that.”
“Why we did that.” Because I undeniably kissed her right back. I swear I see a sparkle in her eye.
In an instant, the sparkle turns to sadness. “On any other night, this might’ve had a future,” she says. “We’d get pizza. Maybe gelato. But I just… I need to leave tonight in the past.”
I hope she doesn’t mean permanently. A pang of disappointment hits me, but I understand where she’s coming from. I’ve had those days, too. “Being with you in the present was enough,” I manage.
She bites down a smile. “That’s so cheesy.”
“Just like the pizza we’ll never have. Or we can rain check it,” I offer.
Hazel looks down at the ground.
“You don’t have to explain anything. Just… here.” I locate the Advil box in the bag. “Don’t forget this.” I drop the pain reliever into her bag and slip the lottery ticket in with it.
“Thanks for the medical attention,” she says, shouldering her bag. “See you at the next fortune-crashing.”
And with that, she’s gone.