Hazel laughs. “Squirrelcane?”
“Yeah. It’s about hurricanes made up of killer squirrels.”
The smile that lights up her face makes me determined to keep putting one there. “Squirrelcaneit is,” she says. “I can’t wait to see it.”
But fifteen minutes later, she’s fast asleep on my shoulder.
And as much as I try to keep my attention on the movie, all I can think about is how perfect it feels, with her soft hair tickling my chin and the light puffs of her breath brushing across my neck. All I can focus on is the way her body fits against mine.
Ishouldget up. I should get her settled on the couch with a blanket instead of keeping her snuggled against me. I should leave her a note telling her I went home so I can get at least a few hours of sleep before reporting to the office tomorrow.
But all the should-haves mean nothing compared to the rightness of holding her.
Of being here to make sure she feels safe when she wakes up.
Of protecting her from anything that might hurt her.
So I stay.
And I can’t bring myself to regret it.
CHAPTER 7
HAZEL
Isit wrong to feel hopeful right now?
Part of me says yes. That, given the circumstances, it’s ridiculous to feel anything but fear and anxiety.
Oh, and guilt. I can’t forget about that. Because, despite Alec’s assurances after I told him about Marissa three days ago, I still feel guilty.
Is it right for me to feel a flicker of hope when Marissa will never have the same opportunity?
My old counselor would say yes. She’d tell me I’m allowed to be happy. That it’s okay to feel hope for the future. That it’s okay to take enjoyment in things.
Up until a few days ago, I’d been doing better at taking her advice. Maybe I wasn’t happy all the time, but I liked going to work. I enjoyed helping out atRory’s shelter. I looked forward to my weekly trips to the grocery store, where I’d inevitably end up having at least three conversations with people I knew.
But it’s hard to stay positive when I feel like I’m trapped in a riptide of crappiness, and every time I get my head above water, another powerful current tries to drag me back down.
Like finding out that my brakes were indeed tampered with. Enzo was able to pull some strings with the state police and get my car retrieved much sooner than expected. Alec went to look at it yesterday and found evidence that the brakes had been set to stop working as soon as I hit fifty miles per hour. And the emergency brake—which was electric andnotmanual, like I thought—had been deactivated.
So that wasn’t great.
Having confirmation that the two events were related makes me even more worried that it ties back to what happened in Boston. Which in turn makes me think about Marissa and Jason even more, loading on more guilt on top of the near-constant fear, and before I know it, I’m laying awake at four AM torturing myself with what-ifs from three years ago.
So it’s really no surprise I’m feeling anxious about tonight.
The surprise is how much I’m looking forward to it, too.
Alec stopped by the cabin before heading into work this morning with an unexpected invitation. “We’re going to have a game night at Enzo’s place,” he told me as he handed over fresh muffins and steaming hot lattes from Breakfast Bliss, “and I thought you might want to come. It’ll be pretty low key; just the five of us guys plus Winter, Rory, and Lark, of course.”
Then he went silent while he placed the muffins on two plates at my little dining table, setting out little packages of butter and brown sugar and honey to go with them. Once he finished, he added, “It’s okay if you’re not feeling up to it. But I’d really like it if you came.”
How could I say no?
Especially when I really wanted to say yes?
Since I’ve been at the cabin, I’ve seen Alec every day. First, in the morning, when he comes by with breakfast that we end up sharing over conversation about favorite TV shows and movies and books and pretty much anything that doesn’t involve someone trying to hurt me.
