Chapter 18 Hazel
HAZEL
Logan’s parked outside waiting for me in the car. Once I’m buckled up, he starts driving. As soon as we’re back on the highway and moving in the right direction, apologies spill out of him.
I stop him mid-sentence. “Logan, I’m the one who’s sorry. I should’ve never put you in that position. You told me no, and I didn’t listen.”
He shakes his head. “No, you were right. I’m the one who normally says yes. I just didn’t want to hear anything bad.” He’s white-knuckling the steering wheel. “I freaked out.”
This is Logan, the guy who joins strangers’ fortune readings on a whim.
The guy who sets up impromptu dates on firehouse rooftops.
The guy who, up until this very moment, has never turned down a new experience.
That Logan was overconfident and unafraid to push his limit.
Now he worries how a palm reader will interpret his hands.
Maxwell talked about mindset and trying new things and seeing the positive. All things, I’ve come to realize, that Logan has already done for a lot of his life. Lately, though, he’s been retreating.
“Also, I’m pretty sure this hand has my better lines,” he says, lifting his casted arm.
I feel a smile form.
Logan taps against the wheel with his cast. “Damn, okay. Thought that one was pretty good.”
“That was funny,” I say.
He looks confused. “Was it? I couldn’t tell.”
“I smiled.”
Logan finds the right moment to steal a longer look at me. “I must not have caught it. Sometimes I have a hard time knowing what you’re feeling.”
I rock back against the seat. “You do? I thought I looked amused, I guess?”
“It’s my bad. I just didn’t see it is all,” he says, setting his jaw.
I twist to face him, even though he’s focused on the road. “Do you feel like it’s hard…” I swallow, bracing myself. “To connect with me?”
Logan reaches for my hand. “I’ve never connected with anyone so quickly the way I have with you.”
I’m relieved. But I can tell there’s more he wants to say.
“I didn’t realize I wasn’t reacting,” I admit. “Is this what it’s been like since we met?”
“You were pretty annoyed when we met,” he says with a half smile. “That much was clear.”
I cross my arms over my stomach. “Yeah, I guess that wasn’t hard to tell.”
“I’m used to connecting with people through emotions,” he says.
“Which we established a couple days ago is probably not great if it’s only through one particular emotion, but…
yeah, I like getting feedback. A frown if I’ve said something you don’t like.
A laugh if my joke is funny. Otherwise, I guess I feel alone in an experience. ”
I had no idea I came off like that. It’s like having a mirror held up, and instead of a reflection I’d expect to see, I’m faced with a different version of myself. Strangely, this one feels closer to the truth of who I am than any I’ve seen before.
“I feel that, too,” I say quietly. “Lonely.”
As bizarre as it sounds, his noticing my lack of reactions makes me feel… seen.
“I was so young when my mom died. It was quick and sudden. But it was earth-shattering,” I say, my voice shakier than I intend it to be. I clear my throat.
“Even an earthquake that only lasts a few seconds can be damaging,” Logan says.
I nod. “That’s how it felt. Life as we knew it changed overnight.
It became such an emotional roller coaster with my dad.
” I look out the window at the blurring landscape.
“He’d gamble, make bets, lose so much money one day but then win the next.
I got exhausted from feeling the highs and the lows.
” My voice levels out. “So, at six, I had to grow up and take care of everything and everyone. To do that, I had to turn off my reactions and emotions.”
Logan grabs my hand and brings my just-read palm to his lips, gently dropping a kiss on what I remember being my Love line. It’s his way of encouraging me to continue.
“If something hard is happening, I try to level out,” I tell him. “I reach for the nearest thing that can make me happy, so I don’t have to sit in the lows.”
Quick marriages. Tattoos. Bathroom sex.
“Or I’d rather feel nothing,” I say. “But I’m numbing the good stuff, too. When nice feelings pop up, I don’t let myself stay there because I know that happiness won’t last. Staying in the zero-feelings zone is easiest.”
“Is it, though?”
I blink. “No. Well, maybe it was once. And now it’s what I’m used to. God, I’m such a hypocrite. At the theater, I told you that you’re allowed to feel bad. Who am I to say that when I don’t allow myself to feel the bad or the good?”
“You were trying to help me,” Logan reasons. “It’s easier to see what others need than what we need ourselves.”
“I’ve kept everything in for so long,” I say. After a long pause, I add, “Too long.”
“We’ve both been keeping too much in,” Logan says. “Maybe we can sit in our lows together.”
“What about the highs?”
Logan shakes his head. “Nah. We don’t want to be too happy.”
I shake my head, playing along.
“I’ve been living in muted shades,” I say. “But it’s like ever since meeting you—”
Ever since meeting Logan, everything’s been a bit brighter. More vibrant.
Oh. Oh.
He’s still looking at the road, focused on our safety. Which is good. I need the moment to collect myself.
“Ever since meeting me…?” Logan asks. His hand slips from mine to my leg, right above my knee.
“Ever since meeting you…” I say slowly. “I guess I’ve… I’ve felt a wider spectrum of emotions. It’s like meeting you has cracked me open, just a little.” It’s a lie. He’s cracked me wide open.
I’m shallow breathing now, my chest rising and falling faster at this admission. It’s scary, being vulnerable.
Logan gives me a small grin. “Toffee did most of that.”
I laugh. Out loud this time. I catch Logan stealing a glance as I do, like he wants to capture my pleased reactions.
I trail my finger down my forearm where the two long scratches have faded. My fingers land on my charm bracelet. I find the cat and rub my thumb over its nose and ears.
“What kinds of emotions do you have?” he asks.
My fingers drop from the charm. “What?”
“Tell me what you’re feeling, good or bad. Let’s start with the good.”
I see what he’s doing. He’s creating his own version of what I did to him at the theater.
I look around at the car’s dashboard and cupholders, as though I’ll find my response there. Out the window, there’s nothing but highway and trees and signs. In the distance, gray clouds loom. We’re driving straight toward them.
I spot the Wendy’s logo on an exit sign. “I feel good about Frostys.”
“I like those, too,” Logan says. “What else?”
I note the eighty degrees I’ve set the heat to on the passenger side. In my defense, I’m always cold. “I feel good about the temperature.”
“You feel good about the temperature? Like outside or in the car?” Logan clarifies. He’s taking this more seriously than I am.
“In here. It’s comfortable.”
“Well, your limbs are always cold so that makes sense,” he says, waiting. “Is that it?”
Of course that’s not it. Lately, there’s been so much to feel good about. Mostly because of him.
“I don’t want to say it out loud,” I finally say.
“Why? What will happen if you do?”
I wait a few beats before saying, “It might go away.” I shift against the leather seat.
“Speaking the good into existence feels risky. When my dad won bets or when certain teams won, he’d talk about his luck and how good he had it.
How on top of the world he was. But the high never lasted, and that only led to disappointment.
Even when we first met, you were so confident about how you always won games and how things worked out for you.
And then they didn’t. It feels like jinxing. ”
“I knew you were a little superstitious.” He squeezes my leg.
“You know, Hazel, when something good happens for you, you’re allowed to enjoy it.
You’re even allowed to say when something makes you happy.
Doing so won’t take that truth away. I’m not going to say something cliché like you have to know the bad to know the good. I want to, but I won’t.”
“You literally just said it.”
Logan laughs. “The reality is happy feelings won’t last forever. But what does?”
“So with that logic… if the good doesn’t last forever, then that means the negative feelings won’t either, doesn’t it?” I ask pointedly.
He narrows his eyes at me, understanding right away what I’m getting at. “Fair enough. That’s… yeah.”
I check the car’s temperature, which has stayed at eighty this entire conversation. Even after I mentioned it.
“I feel good about the interviews I’ve done,” I say without being prompted, answering his earlier question for real. Though I do still have team interviews. “We’ll see what ends up happening. I still might not get the job.”
Clearly, I can’t help myself.
“Regardless of what happens, though, you’re happy with how you handled it?” Logan asks.
“Actually, yeah. I am.” I prepared. I had solid answers. I gave my very best.
Admitting this is like shedding an invisible weight. A sense of comfort courses through me, and I feel compelled to say more. I reach for whatever comes to mind first.
“I feel good that I was able to help my brother. I even feel good about that painting I made of you.” This next one’s easy. “I feel good about celebrating my birthday.”
“You mean acknowledging?” Logan asks.
“That night was a celebration if I’ve ever seen one.”
I get a ripple-smile for that comment.
“I feel good about being here with you. Even though we’re on our way to Maine. To meet your family,” I say.
Logan laughs. “Stranger things have happened in the past month.”
That is so true.
Turns out, I feel good about a lot of things. And nothing can take away what I’ve just spoken out loud. Contentment bubbles up through my center. Every time I’m with Logan, this is how I feel. I almost dare to imagine a future where every day could be like this.
I’m probably getting ahead of myself, but I’ve burst open the dam of positive feelings, and now they’re all rushing toward me. I expect them to topple me sideways with their velocity. Send me tumbling into the deep end. After a few long, agonizing seconds, that’s not what happens.
Instead, the deluge of emotions lifts me up. I get to ride this wave. And it’s not excruciating.
It’s exhilarating.
So I continue to linger in this moment. Push it a little further. “What if I said I could see a future with you in it?” I ask.
Yeah. I’ve definitely gotten ahead of myself. Logan and I have known each other only a short while. It’s too soon to be saying stuff like that. I jumped to our future, and we’re still just trying to get through the present. And now we’re stuck in a car together for another four hours.
But Logan’s beaming from the driver’s seat, his grin big and goofy and just so, so happy. He looks at me like I’ve hung the daytime moon. The one that requires an extra second to find it, like it’s a special sighting that needs to be earned. The one we see when we least expect it.
“I predict that we’d be happy, even though sometimes we’d be sad, too,” he says. “But we’d have each other. And together, I think we could get through anything.”
When he says this, it feels true. Even in four and a half weeks, we’ve gone through so much. But I haven’t bolted. And Logan has only been a steady presence.
I feel the smile grow on my lips. I hope I’m reflecting how he’s looking at me. I want him to feel what he makes me feel.
I spoke my happiness out loud, and it was returned. When I glance out toward the gray clouds, they’re still there. We have a ways to go before we reach them, though.
Until we do, I’m going to enjoy the sunshine.
Logan flicks on the turn signal and takes the next exit.
We’re now straying from the directions on his phone. “Are we out of gas already?” I ask.
“My girl feels good about Frostys,” he says. “So that’s exactly what we’re going to get.”