She’s right. I don’t know what to say to her. Bea is like my second mom and knows almost everything about me. She’s been a pillar in my life ever since I was thrown into this. The lodge. After Hazel.
“Your sister would’ve liked her,” Bea says with her own glassy eyes. She squeezes my hand knowing what she’s done.
The five words hit me like a truck. They sting. Burn.
I know Bea means it. She’d never bring Hazel up if she didn’t. It’s somewhere we don’t go unless we have to. I swear my legs almost buckle and I forget to breathe.
My thoughts of Hazel are always of me missing her. Everything she did and all she was. I rarely imagine her in the future tense. It’s too fucking hard. It’s unfair how she’s missing out on all of this. Thinking of what she would’ve been or would’ve done breaks me.
I can’t look at Bea.
“And Hazel would want you to fill yourself with as much joy and happiness that your rigid, closed-off self would allow.” Bea’s voice cracks at the end.
I look at her with my own watery eyes. Again, she’s right. Bea has been gentle with me for so long and has tried to let me work it out on my own time. She’s meticulous and intentional when it comes to advice like this. I’ll give it to her—pushing me towards Ivy is bold.
“I don’t… I can’t…” My voice isn’t more than a whisper.
“You can. I’m not saying you need to marry Ivy or think past the time she’s here. It’s a reminder that it’s okay to let someone in.” Her hands are warm on mine. She pulls me in for a hug. “Even if it’s just for a few days.”
I dip down to rest my cheek on her shoulder. Bea rubs slow circles on my back. Hazel used to do the same thing. I feel like I’m about to drown.
We stay there until someone dings the bell for the front desk. Bea uses her fingers to tip my face up.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“I’m not right now, but I will be.” And I’m being honest. These moments where I’m lost in all things Hazel happen when I least expect them.
I didn’t expect a girl from the city—neurotic and constantly in a state of planning—would be the reason.
Bea goes to the front desk to help a guest and I head to my truck. I do what I can to escape the conversation. The Hazel-sized hole in my heart is burning and bleeding. I’d give anything to see her one more time, even just for a second.
So I do what I always do. I drive back to my place and make my wayto a lookout for sunset. This time, I bring Slate with me. Few people are out on the trails tonight. To be safe, Slate and I walk to one of my favorite spots that’s really tucked away.
When the sun peeks behind the mountains and I feel the warmth dim, I double check no one is around. When the coast is clear, I put my head in my hands.
And I cry.
For the first time in a long time.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I’VE PREPARED AS much as possible for a vague contract meeting with Royce. I read through Stella’s notes and we had a quick call to review them. We’re both feeling good about the meeting. And I feel even better knowing Viv is on her way to the lodge and I’ll see her soon.
I’m so proud of myself for packing an extra business casual outfit. I’m happy I don’t have to meet with Royce in leggings. Putting on my heels was tough; my feet were still sore from the hike and my new shoes. No blisters, though—Holland’s tape did the trick.
When my heels hit the tile floor, I can’t help but smirk and think of Bea. I look over at the front desk and see she’s working. Her face shows she’s absolutely heard me.
The hostess leads me to a room that doesn’t give off professional meeting vibes. It’s more like a perfect place to have a romantic evening with someone you care about.
Royce sits at the table and I feel the blood leave my face. The table feels out of place with fresh flowers and a bottle of wine chilling next to it. There’s even a fire lit in the fireplace.
I’d love nothing more than to turn around and walk straightback to my room.
Before I have a chance to run in the other direction—or power walk, because of the heels—Royce sees me.
“Ivy, it’s great to see you.” His voice is like a purr that makes my skin crawl. “Wine?” He gestures to the bottle next to the table.
“No wine for me.” I politely turn it down, although I’m sure alcohol would make this more tolerable.
