Chapter 14 Hazel #2
I laughed, trying to think of something more.
“I work at the coffee shop across the street from where the guys work. Reading’s my first love, obviously, but I also like hiking, ziplining, random stuff like that.
I guess I’m just your average Jane.” That earned a ripple of chuckles around the group, which loosened the knot in my stomach.
“Oh, and I donate blood and have a couple of tattoos, so needles don’t scare me. That counts as cool, right?” I tried to pass it as an interesting fact, throwing in a wink for effect. Not sure if the vibe was translating, but people seemed to enjoy it.
“Nice, about the tattoos and donating,” Norah chimed in. “I’ve always wanted one, but can’t decide what to put on my body permanently.”
“You could always tattoo Logan’s face, so you don’t forget him when you’re old,” Luke said. “On the other hand, I’m not sure if a ten-hour tattoo session of that raisin face is worth it.”
“Hey,” Logan barked, “have some respect for the face. Besides, who’d be talking about ‘worth it.’ Aren’t you the guy who once flew to Vegas just to try that ‘world-famous’ donut, and then said it tasted like... a donut?”
“I said what I said.”
I shook my head, still smiling as the laughter died down. “Honestly, I think tattoos don’t always need to mean something. They can just be beautiful. And as for the blood, I’m a universal donor, so I see it as my duty. Not judging others, that’s just how I feel.”
The words left my mouth more serious than I’d intended, and when I looked up, Luke was watching me. Not with a smirk this time, but with an unreadable expression that made my skin feel too tight. I suddenly felt naked, like everyone could see right through me.
“I love sunflowers, mangoes, the smell of rain, warm socks. Little things like that. And I’m really happy to be here with all of you, mostly because I can finally stop wondering if all those ‘too good to be true’ stories about you weren’t just rumors.
I just hope I survive being around this much coolness. ”
“Well, we needed another girl to balance the group. Otherwise, we’d be outnumbered when it comes to voting,” Ava said, and the guys turned to her.
“What? How do you know Hazel won’t be on Luke’s side?” Alex asked.
They were pairing us together. I felt Luke stiffen beside me.
“Because she has dignity. Don’t mind him, Hazel,” Ava said. “What about your family?”
I knew this question would come. I glanced at Luke, opened my mouth—but the words caught in my throat. His eyes felt like touch, more intimate than hands. I looked away, reminding myself everyone was still waiting.
“Well, my dad lives in San Francisco and works in company acquisition. And my mom...” I paused, taking a deep breath.
“She’s a pianist and teacher,” I said softly, recalling the last time we talked.
It was about whether she should buy a saxophone for our neighbor, who had mentioned he always wanted to play as a kid.
“Hold up.” Summer lowered her glass, staring at me. “Ridley? Anne Ridley?” I nodded. “Anne Ridley is your mother?”
“Who’s that?” Norah asked.
Summer looked at her like she’d just admitted she’d never heard of oxygen. “She’s one of the most influential performers in academic music. How do you not know this? She’s incredible.”
I smiled faintly, remembering late nights listening to Mom practice, her laughter echoing through the house after nailing a performance. “Yeah... she was.”
“Was?” Logan frowned.
“She passed away.”
The room shifted. Glasses lowered. Conversations stalled. That familiar hush swept in, the one I’d come to expect whenever her name came up. Their expressions softened into the same pitying look I’d seen too many times to count.
“My condolences,” they said, almost in unison.
I gave a small nod, forcing another smile. “Thanks. She... she really loved what she did. And she loved that other people loved it, too.”
“I can’t believe I’m on the couch with Anne Ridley’s daughter. We were colleagues, I work at Juilliard, too. I’m such a fan.”
For the next ten minutes, Summer shared my mom’s accomplishments with everyone.
She was clearly an admirer of her work, as many others were.
I hadn’t expected anyone here to know my family, let alone care.
I felt sadness creeping over me, but I was relieved someone else was talking and not focusing on me. I took another sip and closed my eyes.
Suddenly, I felt Luke’s fingers brush my shoulder. I opened my eyes, slowly pulled out of the haze. Why was he touching me? And why did it calm me?
“You alright?”
“Yes,” I said, forcing a smile. “Yes, of course.” Sooner or later, I was always all right.
His jaw tensed, and the lines on his face deepened. As if worrying. Silly. He brushed his thumb lightly across my shoulder. I smiled, but my throat tightened. Luke drew in a short breath as if realizing... Oh no, I’m not crying here.
“I think we’re gonna turn in,” Norah suddenly said and got up. “It’s been a long day.” Thank God.
“Yes, we’re quite tired too,” Luke replied. We?
I grabbed the empty dishes and went straight to the kitchen. While Summer kept the conversation going, I loaded the dishwasher. Many hours had gone by, and I needed some sleep.
“Sorry, I thought you needed a little escape.” Luke appeared behind me.
I turned, pressing a hand to my chest. “How do you keep sneaking up on me?” I said, trying for playful instead of rattled.
He just gave that maddening half-smile. “Summer can be a bit much, but she means no harm.”
“Yeah, no, it’s fine. Thank you.” I leaned against the counter, grateful for the distraction. “They’re great people. The alcohol’s just making me more emotional than usual.”
Luke’s brow softened, a flicker of concern crossing his face before he smoothed it away.
We went upstairs and entered the room in silence.
The sadness still lingered, and I felt the need for a tissue.
Or maybe just a moment to breathe. I slipped into the bathroom and flicked the light switch—only to freeze.
The room didn’t blaze with harsh white light as I’d expected.
Instead, the ceiling glowed softly, strung with warm Christmas lights that cast a golden haze over the tiles.
It felt less like a bathroom and more like stepping into a secret hideout.
“Wow.”
“What?” Luke’s voice came from behind as he walked in. He looked up at the lights. “Well, I’ll be damned. This will make shower time interesting.”
Luke’s warm hands invaded my mind. Thank God, the lights hid my face. I grabbed a tissue and walked out to the balcony, taking in the view.
“Hey, be careful there,” Luke leaned against the door, hesitant to step closer.
“Don’t worry. I’m gonna be okay.”
“I know you’re gonna be okay, you’re not a dog left in a hot car, I’m just saying...”
I leaned against the ledge, eyes closed, savoring the final rays of sun.
Luke’s quiet presence hovered just behind me, close enough that I could feel the subtle shift of air whenever he moved.
When I opened my eyes, he was right next to me, gripping the railing.
He looked relaxed, but his fingers were tense.
“Did they make you sad?” he asked, his gaze flicking from me to the distant ocean. There was a long silence, but he didn’t leave me. He stayed. Here. With me.
“It’s not that I don’t like talking about my mom. And it’s not that I’m ashamed of how I feel either.” I traced the fading colors along the horizon, letting the words settle in my own head before I spoke again. “Grief is the proof that she mattered. I love her. So much.”
For a moment, the only sound was the wind. Luke didn’t move, just waited, holding space for me.
“It’s the way others talk about her that always gets to me.
” He shifted slightly on the balcony, and I felt the weight of his presence even without looking at him.
“I’m always Anne Ridley’s daughter. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not an ego thing.
But right after she died, they continued to call me that.
I always had to be the daughter, even though.
..” I hesitated. “...I didn’t get to have my mother anymore. I kept being the daughter.”
I choked up on the last words, smiling to hold back the tears. I took a deep breath and looked at Luke. He was still there, listening. No pity, just compassion.
“This night just brought that feeling back.” I averted my gaze. “I know they’re good people.”
“Well,” he cleared his throat, letting his gaze drift to the ocean, “you’ve only known them a day. Maybe your view has been clouded by the sisterhood you’ve clearly joined.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “I’ve only known them for a day, sure—but the chicken tenders?” I lifted a brow. “Those have been in my life longer. Honestly, I see them more than I see my dad. So, if you average it out, I’ve basically known all of you for, what, half a year?”
He glanced back at me, a corner of his mouth tugging up.
“Not bad for a group of friends.”
We both smiled at our made-up silly math, and I let out a long breath, a bit of the heaviness lifting.
“Not bad at all,” he agreed softly.