I leaned against the kitchen counter and swiped out of the picture of Vermont to open the list Reid had asked me to work on. He’d provided me with all the usernames that had viewed my post about winning the lottery. He’d also sent me the picture I’d posted and asked if it had been worth it.
My heart clenched looking down at my smiling face, holding up the ticket and a drink. Happy, but still puffy from crying at Gran’s funeral. Beyond the happiness, I saw the relief in my eyes. Relief that I’d finally be able to break free from the debt caused by the expensive assisted-living facility my grandma had been in. I’d been working since I was fourteen years old, but never anything steady. Never enough. Most days it felt like nothing I did would ever be enough.
The names on the list swirled in front of my eyes. The brain fog was heavy today. The only person who seemed like a possibility to me other than my former boss was, unfortunately, Paul. My ex-boyfriend.
I hated the idea of it, though. We’d been together for years. Lived together, too. He had basically been my only friend when I’d moved out here. Sure, he waskind ofan ass. We had broken up, after all. But there had been some good times, too.
I’d been the dumper in the situation, and he hadn’t been thrilled with me. It was a regular thing for him to show up at my apartment unannounced, usually with an angry plea to try and win me back. He hadn’t done that in months, mind you, but the mere fact that he had done so in the past made him the only major suspect.
There were plenty of other names on the list who weren’t my biggest fans. I wasn’t exactly familiar with the word ‘popularity.’ I’d always been a little odd—‘unique,’ as Gran always said—and had only one notable friend, Zoe, for my entire childhood and into my twenties. But as unpopular as I was, most of these people lived hours away, on the other side of thestate. I’d grown up closer to Detroit, on the east side of Michigan, and had only moved out to the west side a few years ago. I doubted anyone would go through the trouble of tracking me down all the way over here.
My phone vibrated.
Reid: Your property manager finally got back to me. Says they don’t give out footage, but we’re working on it.
Hazel: Trying to charm them?
Reid: I’m doing my best.
Life had been kicking me around lately, and exhaustion chased me. Loneliness wrapped around me like a weighted vest. But every time Reid texted, that feeling eased. The fact that he was still talking to me after I had gone full Hazel-mode during that misguided stakeout meant a lot to me.
Like I said, Friendships had never come easily for me, and whatever I had going with Reid was nice—comforting even. I felt an itch to keep him close, even though I wasn’t quite sure how.
I’d heard it said that people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime, and I’d found that to be pretty true. I’d had plenty of casual friendships: people I bonded with because we worked the same shift, or people I hung out with because they were dating someone I knew. Most of those connections had faded out once the context changed. That part never surprised me.
The part that felt harder was finding the “lifetime” kind of connection. The kind that would stick even when things got messy, inconvenient, or quiet. I was still learning how to find that. Or maybe how tobethat.
My absentee mother could be to blame. Getting rejected right from the start by the one person who was supposed to love you unconditionally had to leave a mark, right?Thankfully, Gran had stepped in and done her best to fill all the cracks.
Was it that people always filtered in and out of my life because I was unlovable? Or was it a self-fulfilling prophecy?
The truth was, from the moment I met someone, I expected them to leave.
A couple of hours later,my brain sufficiently corroded, I closed the door to my modest apartment to head to the salon.
“Sweetie, how are you doing?” Mrs. Edenbury from across the hall stood at her door, poised to turn the key in the lock.
My face softened when I saw her. “I’m hanging in there. Thanks for asking.”
“You’re welcome to borrow one of my babies if you’re missing your own and need a friendly face.”
She had been the first person I’d told about Vermont’s kidnapping. She had been in the hall when I was rushing around and sobbing like a mad woman. She’d comforted me and sat me down in my apartment before making me a cup of tea.
Mrs. Edenbury was somewhere north of seventy, with hair that had been dyed blonde so many times, I wasn’t sure it could grow out gray if it wanted to. And she was, funnily enough, a huge cat person. She had given me treats and toys when I’d first brought Vermont home, after I’d told her he was my late grandmother’s and I had no idea how to take care of a cat. Mrs. Edenbury might have reminded me of Gran, except she didn’t swear like a sailor, and I doubted she had ever begged anyone to allow her to start chain smoking again.
“Thank you. That’s sweet. I might take you up on that.” I probably wouldn’t, though. Her apartment gave me the creeps. I’d only been inside once and that was enough for me. She had life-sized dolls perched on the couch. Nowadays,when she wanted to have tea, I always suggested she come to my place instead.
“Do you need help carrying your groceries in?”
Her smile faded. “Oh, no. That’s alright dear. You get to where you’re headed. I’ve got these.”
“You sure?” I reached for a bag, but she pulled away.
“Yes, I’m sure. You go on. I’ll stop by for tea sometime soon.” With that, she slipped into her apartment and closed the door behind her.
Zipping up my coat, I stepped outside.
I zoned out during the short drive to the salon and all throughout my first appointment. It was just a touch-up job and this particular client was a talker. All I had to do was nod and ask a few follow-up questions, and she could keep the conversation going for hours.
