She studies me for a few seconds. “Do you?—”
“Do I what?”
In almost a whisper, she asks, “Do you think it was my fault?”
Oh.
My heart wrenches.
I hug Hazel closer. “No. It was not your fault at all. Not even close.”
“But if I’d moved out of the city instead of into Marissa’s apartment…”
“He could have followed you there. Hurt someone else. Hurtyou.” An alarming thought strikes me. “Didhe hurt you? While you were dating? After? In the apartment that day?”
“No. Never. I guess… that’s why I wasn’t more worried. Why I didn’t leave Boston right away. I thought he’d get past it. But… he didn’t.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I say firmly. “It wasn’t.”
But I can tell from her expression she doesn’t believe me.
And I know how deeply the poisonous claws of guilt can sink in. How they can cling for years. How painful they can be.
Hazel sags against me. “So you’ll talk to the rest of the team about it? Do you need me to go over it again?”
The idea of dragging her through another torturous retelling is unacceptable. “No,” I tell her. “I’ll talk to them. I can check the police records to get more information, if I need.”
“Okay.” She sounds so small. Sad. Vulnerable. “Thanks, Alec.”
Protectiveness sweeps through me so quickly I’m breathless from it. Before I can stop myself, my lips brush the top of her head. “Of course, Haze.”
She tilts her head back to look at me. “Haze?”
Shit. Why did I call her that?
“It just came out,” I explain. “But I won’t say it if you don’t like it.”
“No…” A ghost of a smile flits across her face. “I like it.” Then she glances at the TV and says, “So. You said you might stay for a while?”
“Yeah. If you still want me to?”
Her voice takes on a hopeful note. “If you don’t mind?”
“Of course not.” I force down my rage at Hazel’s piece of shit ex and work my features into what I hope looks like a reassuring smile. “Remember what I said? I wouldn’t say it unless I wanted to.”
“Okay.” She grabs the remote off the coffee table, then leans back against me. “Is there anything you want to watch? I don’t really care.”
“Well, I do have an idea.” As she hands me the remote, I add, “They’re not good movies. But they’re funny. And when I’m having a rough time, they help take my mind off things.”
Hazel looks at me with interest. “What kind of movies?”
“Science fiction. But only the bad ones with terrible special effects and acting.”
When she doesn’t respond right away, I quickly add, “Or we could watch something else. Whatever you want.”
Another small smile appears. “Actually, a terrible sci-fi movie sounds perfect.”
“Great.” I turn on the TV and scroll through the menu until I find the movie section. Then I pick a particularly bad movie that always makes me laugh. “This one will be perfect.Squirrelcane.”
