Winter nods. “That makes sense.” To me, she asks, “Tea or coffee? I might have some hot chocolate in the cabinet, if you don’t mind the powdered stuff.”
“I don’t want you to go to more trouble,” I tell her.
Alec touches my hand. “Have some tea, Hazel. It’ll help.” When I don’t respond right away, he tells Winter, “Tea, please. And I’m good.”
In normal circumstances, I wouldn’t appreciate someone making decisions for me.
But strangely enough, when Alec does it, I don’t mind.
While we wait for Winter to come back with my tea, I pick at half a sandwich and listen to Alec recapping the events of the evening—or at least,the parts he got from Officer Nelson once I passed over the phone to her. There are details he’s missing, like the color of the masked man’s eyes and the stench of his body odor, but he has the gist of it.
For all my preparations, with the broomsticks in the windows and the deadbolts and the video doorbell, in the end, they did nothing. And if I hadn’t had that pepper spray, hadn’t thought to take it with me while I investigated the sound in the hallway, I might not be here now.
I might be in the hospital, injured after an attack. I might have been violated.
I might be dead.
A shiver grabs hold of my body.
Alec stops talking to Enzo and turns to look at me. His brows pull together and his forehead creases. “You need a blanket.” He hops up and crosses the room to pull a throw off the back of a rocking chair in the corner. Then he hurries back and tucks the soft fabric around me.
Just as he finishes, Winter comes back into the room and delivers a mug of steaming tea to me. “It’s chamomile, ginger, and honey,” she says. “It’s supposed to be soothing.”
“I’ll stoke the fire,” Enzo adds. “Get the room warmed up more.”
My throat thickens.
Tears threaten.
“Are you okay?” Alec asks quietly. He moves a few inches closer to me. “Is there anything else I can do?”
“I’m okay,” I whisper. “It's just… you guys are being so nice.”
“Hazel. We care about you. And we want to make sure you’re okay.”
My brain latches onto thewepart of his statement. Does that mean they care about me equally? In a detached way, like you’d care about anyone you know who’s been through a trauma? Or does he care about memore?
Why am I so stuck on this?
But I’m saved from an answer I’d rather not admit by a quick series of knocks at the door. “Ronan,” Alec reassures me. “The only people who have the passcode for the gate are the five of us, plus Winter, Lark, and Rory.”
And less than a minute later, he’s proven right. Enzo greets Ronan at the door, giving him the same sort of chin lift he and Alec exchanged earlier. Then they both head over to the couches, with Ronan taking a seat on the opposite side of the couch as Enzo.
“Hey, Hazel,” he says. His gaze lingers on my nose and eyes for a second. His jaw tightens. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay,” I reply, feeling a bit like a parrot by now.
Winter gets up from her spot beside Enzo andkisses his cheek. “Okay. I’m heading to bed. I left more sandwiches in the fridge in case you want any.” She throws a teasing smile at Ronan. “I even made a couple of those horrible bologna sandwiches for you.”
Ronan grins at her. “They’re not horrible. They’re delicious.”
She makes a face. “Bologna with processed American cheese and mustard? Ick.”
“Hey, it’s a classic,” he protests. Then he gives Winter an affectionate smile. “Thanks, Winter. I really appreciate it.”
As Winter leaves the room, the relaxed atmosphere seems to go with her. In its place, tension thickens the air, and the three men sit up straighter.
“Well,” Enzo says. “I guess it’s time to get down to it.”
