Chapter 22 #2
I dropped my gaze, feeling his eyes on me. “I... I don’t know.” It was the truth. “I was ashamed, I guess. It’s hard for me to... to ask for help.” Luke’s expression tightened.
“You know, my mom, she always taught me to speak up, whether I saw injustice or happiness, sadness or kindness, around me. She taught me to always show emotions because that’s what makes us human.” I tried to explain the chaos in my head.
“And it sounds good in theory, but with her, emotions were always extreme. She was...” I hesitated, wanting to keep some things hidden, but then remembered how good it felt to be honest the night before.
Before I got everyone high and almost made out in the pool.
“She was bipolar.” Luke’s breath hitched. As expected.
“I’m sorry,” he offered.
“Even though it was hard, I could feel them, you know?” He studied me.
My words. The pauses in-between. “All these emotions at their peak performance. Somehow, it made me appreciate them even more. Every emotion, however hard, how overwhelming, would always pass, and you’d be left knowing you experienced it all.
And survived,” I added, letting the last word drift like a feather. “I know it sounds silly, bu—”
“It doesn’t,” he interrupted. Warmth spread through my chest.
“I was in Portugal when she got worse. My dad called, asking for help. I remember his voice as if it were yesterday. How excruciating it was for him to slowly lose the woman he loved so much. I moved back, and when she...” I swallowed hard, rubbing the tiny pearl on my necklace Mom gave me on my 18th birthday.
“When she decided to leave us,” I whispered.
Luke froze, the realization finally sinking in.
“My father mentally checked out, buried himself in work, forgot to grieve. So I grieved on my own.” It sounded so simple, so straightforward, but it almost destroyed me.
Luke exhaled heavily. “I’m so sorry. He should’ve been there.”
“Everyone grieves differently. I can’t blame him.”
“You should.” His face betrayed his own surprise at saying it. Silence stretched between us before I continued.
“There were times when her depression and manic attacks were too emotionally draining, and I asked Dad for help, but he avoided her. It was too painful for him. The woman he fell in love with was nowhere to be found. After trying to reach him so many times, I started feeling guilty for even asking. Like I wasn’t getting the message.
” Years of hurt poured out of me, but I couldn’t stop anymore. I needed to get it out.
“And then there was Jackson.” Luke tensed when I mentioned his name.
“He didn’t treat me badly, but there were times when I felt so sad.
I needed someone, but somehow he didn’t notice that I needed him more than he could give.
And at the end of the day, it was the same story as with my dad.
I tried, multiple times to ask for support, for help, for what I needed, and it just got lost somewhere between our worlds.
So I just... stopped. Because either he didn’t see it, or he didn’t care.
” Saying the words out loud actually felt more painful than the emotions themselves.
“I stopped asking people something they were not capable of giving. In the end, we were just unlikely roommates with me crying on the sofa and him working in his office. Once he caught me and just said, ‘Feeling down today?’ and then just walked away. Like I was a period cramp or something. I felt like an imposition.”
“Like that Taylor Swift song?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood.
“Yeah, like that Taylor Swift song.” I smiled, shrugging my shoulders. “I needed him more, and he needed me less.” I kept my gaze on the horizon, trying my hardest to breathe in the peace that sunrise offered.
“It was just too much for me. And after a long period of internal struggle and guilt, I decided I couldn’t keep doing this and ended things.”
Luke took my hand in his, stroking it lightly. And I let him. I watched his movements like they were a beautiful dance. A moment to remember.
“So now, I’m just this,” I gestured to myself, “this person.” Luke’s eyes were on me, never faltering, never hiding from what I’d shown him. Just holding space for me.
“A wonderful person.” His voice was sweet and calmed my heart like honey for a sore throat.
“You’re just a human, Hazel. For someone so willing to give everything you have, it’s a shame you’ve put your walls up so high you’ve forgotten how to ask or even receive love from people who’d be willing to give it. ”
And there it was again. Him messing with my head.
How could someone so genuine in his thoughts act so differently from what he believed?
Of course, he wasn’t a monster. I’d been hurt tonight, and he offered help, but knowing his life, the girls, the one-night stands.
.. It just didn’t make sense that he’d sit here teaching me how to live my life.
How to protect myself from pain. Then again, in his eyes, I was doing the same thing—wanting to help others but never trusting them to do the same for me.
“Damn. How are you a functioning adult with all this history?” he suddenly said, making me laugh.
“Well, you know what they say. Trauma is just a spicy memory.” We shared a smile, fully acknowledging that this evening was our spicy memory.
“Hazel,” he said my name like it was a soft baby’s buttocks. “I want to ask you something, and I’ll believe whatever you choose to answer.”
Oh-oh.
“Jackson. He was the guy from O’Riley’s, wasn’t he?” I swallowed, anticipating his question. “Is he... harassing you? Is that why you really moved?”
I met his gaze and was caught in it, entirely at his mercy, not able to look away. My eyes filled with tears, twisting my face, and he rolled his jaw, silent but heavy. He’s gonna use all his yearly pity quota on me.
“He’s just hurt. Technically, he didn’t do anything wrong.
” I averted my gaze. “He didn’t cheat or abuse me, so the breakup doesn’t make sense to him.
It’s easier when there’s a clear reason, instead of ‘I feel sad, so I’m leaving.
’” Luke’s grip on my hand tightened, and I wanted him to pull me into a hug, but as one would’ve guessed, I was done with asking.
“He’s grieving and having a hard time understanding my side. And I get it. I feel sorry for him, too. I wasn’t the happy person he fell in love with. I couldn’t give him that person anymore, and he’s trying to logic this breakup out. Keeps showing up, trying to talk to me, that’s all.”
Luke’s fingers were tracing the tattoo on my arm. The sky had fully woken up now, and something in me felt lighter.
“It’s your default setting, right? Taking care of others,” he said, contemplating. “Who’s taking care of you?” he asked, raising his eyes to me. The question stunned me, but I wasn’t some pitiful, lonesome girl. I had Mady and Thomas, and...
“Well, Mrs. Green constantly feeds me.” I snorted. Luke grunted a low hmm, clearly unimpressed.
“Have you talked to Mady about this?”
“She knows some parts. About my mom, my dad, why I broke up with Jackson.”
“Does she know about him following you?” He drew his brows together, lips tight. Like he was holding something back.
“I...” I couldn’t lie to him. “I can’t do that to her. She’s so happy right now, planning her wedding. It’s too much. Besides, he’s just persistent. He’s not a danger to me or anything.”
“Would you tell anyone if he were?”
“Of course,” I lied quietly, lowering my head. But he saw right through me. Luke slowly pulled me into a hug I so desperately needed. Without asking.
“Hazel, I want you to tell me. Any time, any place you don’t feel safe, you call me. Promise me, please.”
After a moment, I nodded. I wanted to mean it, but I couldn’t predict how the future would unfold. Which Hazel would win—the one who made promises or the one who didn’t want to be a burden. His arms tightened.
“You should talk to Mady about this. I’m sure she would hate to find out later that you kept something like this from her. That you didn’t trust her enough to let her be there for you, especially in moments like these.”
Sadness crept into my heart. By trying to protect her from this, was I robbing her of what friendship truly meant? I would’ve wanted to know if it were her.
Silence settled between us, the ocean breeze warm against my face.
“I hate that you had to go through it alone. Those assholes don’t deserve you,” he said, clearly counting my father into the equation. “You’re too kind to people.” His voice soft but sentimental. I sighed.
“I just think there’s more to gain by risking being kind than to lose because of some people who decide to use it.
High risk, high reward, they call it.” My mouth brushed his chest as I tried syncing my breathing with his.
I felt like we were one person for the tiniest moment.
One organism working together. One breath, one purpose.
“I have this feeling that people are much stronger than their worst days. I am stronger,” I said, trying to convince myself, too. His hands caressed me, his lips brushing my temple.
We stayed like that for a long time. I even drifted off to sleep until I felt something textured press against my face, making me roll to the other side.
Luke lifted his body, waiting patiently for me to settle in so he could cover me with a blanket. But the moment his warmth left, I instinctively tugged his arm, pulling him down with me. He hesitated at first, but didn’t let me go. Slowly, he followed my hand and lay down with me.
“I just talked for a very long time,” I murmured, half-asleep. His hand rested on my stomach, warming me, his whole body pressed to mine. I wanted to stay awake as long as possible. To remember this.
“It wasn’t nearly as long as I’d wished you talked,” he whispered.
“It’d be only fair if you told me something, too.”
“What do you want to know?” His fingers traced my skin above my belly button. When I stirred, swallowing a moan, he pressed me closer to him.
“Tell me about your parents.” I started to blur my words together, but I wanted to know about him. About his life.
He exhaled, hesitant. “Later tonight,” he said, brushing a strand from my face. I snuggled deeper into his arms. “I’ll tell you about them later tonight.” He repeated it, as if saying it out loud made him keep his promise.
All I had on me was his grey T-shirt, which felt like the silkiest fabric there was. It covered my ass, but my legs were still bare. Luke’s hands slowly but firmly pulled me tighter to his chest and then put his warm hand on my thigh, brushing circles.
I didn’t feel like he wanted anything more, anything sexual. I felt like he wanted to protect me, warm me. And I knew if I were uncomfortable, he’d let me go immediately, which is why I felt as safe as I possibly could.
It’s a truth as old as time that our own minds are the biggest enemy, collecting fragments of past pain and childhood echoes, setting off alarms when familiar wounds threaten to reopen. But for once, for whatever reason, neither of our minds tried to protect us from itself.
For once, our minds allowed us to be.