Chapter 38
Hazel
“Are you sure?” Luke asked, his voice low and teasing. Propped on one elbow, he toyed lazily with a pawn next to the chessboard, eyes never leaving mine. My fingers hovered above the bishop that would almost certainly obliterate him in the next two moves.
“Yeeaaahhhhh...” I said slowly, releasing the piece and scanning the board. He paused and a second later, grinned, sliding his rook into a spot I hadn’t noticed.
“I’ll have you in checkmate in two moves, sweetie.” His hand brushed down my spine to my ass, sending a shiver through me. It was difficult to concentrate, and he knew it.
After our hate-love-making session, we stayed in bed.
Neither of us was ready to give in to sleep.
Closing our eyes seemed like a waste when time was already slipping through our fingers.
We lay naked on our stomachs, facing the balcony as early morning light slowly painted the sky in orange and yellow tones.
I groaned into the pillow at my defeat. Luke’s teasing touch, gliding over my back, turned softer. Like a consolation prize. It was a nice distraction from all the emotions coursing through me.
“You’re getting better. You’re already better than when we first started.”
“Yeah,” I half-laughed, calling his bluff.
Silence settled between us, broken only by waves crashing in the distance and a breeze moving the curtains. I lifted my head, blinking up at the brightening sky. It looked cracked open. Just like I felt inside.
“The most gorgeous view,” he whispered.
“Yeah,” I agreed, watching the sky. But when I turned to him, Luke was watching his hand on my back, lost in thought. Then he met my eyes and sighed in defeat despite his win. His jaw tightened, his eyes suddenly serious.
“Hazel, I meant it.” Guilt colored his face, softening the sharp lines of his jaw, his shoulders no longer held with their usual certainty.
“I’m really sorry. For everything—what I said to you, for what I did. I never wanted just a body.” He lowered his eyes for a fraction of a second, voice dropping to a soft whisper, and then lifted his gaze to meet mine again. “Not with you.”
Cracks in my heart got deeper with every word. “I got tangled up in this.”
Suddenly, I felt bad for the things I’d said. Even though he lied, he was sorry. It wasn’t what I heard, it was what I saw.
People fight their demons the best they can.
“I’m sorry too,” I offered in return, realizing there was truth to what he had said, even though the delivery had been flawed. “I know I have my issues.”
Luke’s knuckles traced the soft swell of my breast, and somehow my ass raised in response. Embarrassed, I buried my face in the pillow, but he immediately put his whole palm to my skin, warming it. Like freshly baked bread.
“I wasn’t always like this, you know?” I said.
Luke tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, then slid both hands under his pillow, his head resting there, eyes focused on me. I missed his touch, but the distance made it easier to speak.
“I have nothing against my father, it’s just... I don’t blame him for how things went after Mom died. He was in survival mode, and he built these walls around us. That’s how he coped. But I had to survive those moments mostly without him.
So now I’m used to living like this, with him there on the other side of the country and me here, pretending to be a family, but not really being one.”
I could practically hear my chest ripping apart, putting into words things I’d only observed in my head.
It felt liberating. And strangely, it felt right sharing it with Luke.
The guy I demanded to fuck me just hours ago.
I don’t think I’ve demanded anything in my life.
I was the kind of person who couldn’t even return food at a restaurant if there was a hair in it.
“I don’t want to be blamed for wanting to keep the same distance.
I didn’t have a choice then, but I do now.
And I’m not angry, but we’re not going to have the closest father-daughter relationship.
He made us like that, and even though I don’t blame him, I don’t want to pretend like nothing happened.
Because it did.” My voice wavered. “I lived through that on my own, and it shaped me into who I am. And I like who I am.” I smiled, feeling a flicker of pride. “With some exceptions.”
“Your immune system’s response to peach jelly sucks, for one,” he said, and I chuckled, his grin deepening into those signature dimples.
“Yes, well. It is what it is,” I sighed. “I’m comfortable this way.”
The moonlight stretched across the room, and in that quiet silver glow, I saw more in Luke’s face than I ever had in daylight.
“I get it,” he said quietly, considering my words.
“But there’s strength in vulnerability as much as in kindness.
In asking for help. At least from people you care about, who care about you.
From people who love you.” He shifted closer, resting his head in his palm, elbow pressed into the mattress.
A strange wave of nostalgia washed over me as his gaze lingered.
“In all my years, I’ve never seen anyone love someone as much as my mom and dad loved each other,” I said, my smile widening.
“They were opposites in many ways, but the way we had our pancake Sundays or how they both always, always brought me to school together on the first day each year. When my mom felt like she’d failed after a concert, my dad would lift her back up.
And when my dad had endless pitch meetings, she brought him sandwiches and let him vent to her even though she understood nothing about real estate.
They anticipated each other’s needs. They loved each other the hardest when it was needed the most. Without asking. They were each other’s person.”
Luke listened closely, smiling alongside me.
“They loved each other well.”
A kaleidoscope of memories coursed through me. The good and the bad, the happy and the excruciatingly painful—moments that made me who I am.
“It sounds amazing,” he said, a faint shine gathering in his eyes. “I wish my parents had that kind of love.”
Something broke inside me. For this generous boy whose heart wished for something he’d never known.
“Luke, I... I’m sorry for what I said about your parents. I know nothing about your relationship with them and I—”
“But you do, Hazel. You do know,” he interrupted gently. “You don’t need to apologize.”
“It wasn’t my place,” I said, guilt pressing on my chest. How on earth could I judge him for that, when there was a time when I was so loved by my family, while he had to fight for it?
“It was,” he said, firmer, and this time I stayed silent, accepting his words. He was quiet for a moment, then spoke again.
“I remember my first day of school, too. Damn, I was so excited to meet the other kids. Or maybe just eager to get out of the house,” he chuckled, but his eyes were distant. I winced at the heaviness behind his words.
“They fought the whole way there. But the moment we got out of the car, we were this perfect family. I didn’t get it at first—this sudden change in their characters, but slowly, it became our default setting. Appearance over feeling.
“I was often lonely as a kid and now as an adult...” he hesitated. “I thought I’d outgrown that feeling—always trapped between them—but it just feels more of the same.”
I had an inescapable need to touch him. I reached out and gently traced the line of his jaw, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips.
“They slowly started talking to me like a negotiator, passing messages through me. I often absorbed their negative reactions, too. Which, now that I think about it, is kind of fucked up.”
It was fucked up. His ambition, his drive, the walls he’s built around himself. Suddenly, it all made sense. But underneath, there was the real Luke. Gentle and good. Wanting love.
“So, I do what I do best to this day,” he added, gaze landing on mine, a faint, tired smile playing on his lips. “Negotiate.”
“Do you want to hear my thoughts?” I asked after a beat.
“Always,” he gave me a sweet, teasing smile, though his eyes stayed sober.
“I think that the most important relationship you will ever have is with yourself. And if the people closest to you are taking away your peace, it’s only fair to step back and set some boundaries.
” I watched him, the now familiar tension in his shoulders, the subtle tightening around his jaw, and wondered how much of his life he had spent negotiating his own existence.
How much of himself had been sacrificed in the name of survival, of keeping that peace.
“I don’t hate my father,” I added with a small laugh.
“I never have. He made a choice to keep himself sane after losing someone he loved more than anyone. I can’t imagine pain like that.
But after everything that happened, I needed distance to protect my own heart.
To let myself breathe.” I placed my hand on his chest and gently brushed my thumb over it. “You deserve that , too.”
He placed his hand over mine, holding something more in it than he realized.
“I hope you find it. I hope you find everything you don’t even realize you’re looking for,” I whispered.
Something flickered in his eyes. Something mending, something resisting. Like he was negotiating, not with me, but with himself. Whether to believe me, whether to let me in. Whether to do the most terrifying thing and let himself feel something more.
All I could do was hope he saw me as support in this moment: a helping hand, a listening ear, a shoulder to lean on. Knowing I could be there for him was enough, because he had been there for me when I needed him, too. Isn’t that what love was all about at the end of the day?
“How did I not see you before?” he whispered, pulling me closer. I, however, refused to read too much into his question. It would be too painful.
“Probably my small size and previously mentioned boundaries,” I laughed. “But for what it’s worth, I wish I had your bravery.” I lowered my eyes, playing with the soft fabric. Maybe if I had the courage, I could finally feel like I was starting my life, not just staying in my place of refuge.
“You are brave.” Luke’s knuckles grazed my cheek, and I met his dark eyes. “You just don’t know it yet.”
I touched his arm, fingertips brushing his bicep. He gently wrapped his hand around my wrist.
“Hazel, with me, you don’t have to beg when you need something. You just have to ask.”
His soft gaze broke my heart a little. As sincere as his words sounded, I knew there were things he couldn’t give me. We both knew it. And I wanted to choose people who chose me, too.
“What was that Lizzy’s quote from Pride and Prejudice?” he said. “Perhaps you should take your aunt’s advice and practice,” Luke said, performing his best low, soft Keira Knightley’s voice, and I laughed. “So practice. Practice right now. Ask me something.”
“Didn’t I already ask you something during our fight?” I said, blood rushing to my cheeks. “God, and I was swearing... ahhh.”
“Yes, that was extremely hot and sexy, but it was the heat of the moment. You have to practice in non-sexual moments.”
“Well, you towering over my ass is extremely sexual.”
“It’s not sexual, it’s... one friend supporting another.” His logic was as flawed as Swiss cheese. My skin tingled, and I buried a grin in my arms. The air between us lightened again. His eyes traced the movements of his hand like he was sketching something.
What should I ask?
“I could kindly ask you to bring my stuff down to the car tomorrow,” I said eventually.
“No problem, little lady,” he said enthusiastically. Like a grown-up cheering on their kid when they bring a drawing home from kindergarten, complete with ugly and unrecognizable shapes and forms.
“What else?” He wanted more. But I wanted him.
His fingers were gliding over my body, light as a feather but igniting every cell in my body. I groaned into the pillow, which amused him. I wanted to keep talking with him. Not to lose a second of our... whatever this was. His hand moved lower and squeezed my cheek lightly.
“I don’t think you understand what ‘non-sexual’ means,” I muttered, but a moan betrayed me while his warm hands were mapping the lower part of my body. Memorizing it.
“Yeah, I changed my mind,” he said in a husky voice.
His palm squeezed my hip, molding me like a vase.
But there was restraint in his touch, too, as if he was afraid to let himself go.
Like if he did, something inside him might break.
My eyes may give me away, but the touch was his tell. His hands on me always told the truth.
Goosebumps bloomed across my skin, and he pulled a blanket over us. Luke let his fingers trail along my jaw before brushing gently over my lips, and then rested his hand against my cheek.
It struck me that love wasn’t a single moment at all.
It was a thousand small ones, collected and remembered, stitched into something I could finally hold.
Not in the grand confessions or the impossible promises, but here, in the spaces where he looks away with soft patience to give me room, where laughter comes unplanned, dissolving the tension.
Where he can’t avert his gaze from mine, as though nothing else in the world deserves his attention, even though I’m lying naked beside him.
These beautifully unremarkable moments slipped in unnoticed yet carved themselves into me.
I thought of how often life rushes past, and yet right now, everything slowed, and I could see him. Not just Luke now, but every Luke he had ever been. And in this moment, something occurred to me. Something that I wanted.
“Can I ask for something silly?”
“You can try, but you won’t be successful.” His dimples reappeared. I gathered the courage to ask for what I really wanted.
“Let’s never leave,” I whispered, lowering my eyes, afraid to look up. Afraid to see my desperation reflected in his gaze, afraid he might finally decide this had already gone on long enough.
But instead, his hand landed softly on my back, pulling me into the warmth of his embrace.
My chest pressed against his, and his fingers spread wide across my skin like he was anchoring himself to me.
He gently tilted my face upward, his lips hovering near mine, not kissing yet, just letting the moment stretch.
The contact of our bodies, the stillness between us, made me feel every particle of him. Every emotion in full spectrum.
“Let’s,” he whispered, right before sinking into a kiss that would forever become a part of me.