“Really?” I hook my elbows around my knees and turn toward her.
“One time we were supposed to. For my tenth birthday. My dad bought tickets toWicked. He was going to take me and my brother.” Hazel runs her hand along one of the wood shingles. “It was going to be this big weekend trip to the city. I saved up every last penny from chores I did at my neighbors’. You know the only thing I wanted as a souvenir was a MetroCard.” She laughs softly. “Like, what? I was nine.”
I smile. “Freedom.”
“Exactly,” she says, regarding me. “For me, New York City just existed in movies. We only lived three hours away, but it might as well have been thirty. My dad set money aside for the trip. We were going to go to Central Park, get Frrrozen Hot Chocolate at Serendipity 3, go see the Empire State Building. You know, New York-y things.”
I nod, watching as the last trace of her smile fades away completely.
“Then my dad bet the money on a game,” she says after a few moments. “And that was that.”
I shake my head.
Hazel swallows thickly. “I learned never to get my hopes up forthings again. You don’t get disappointed that way. I’ve lost everything I’ve ever loved.” She blinks up at me. “I know this is too much. I’m too much. Logan, if at any point you want to walk away, you can. I promise I would understand.”
I wrap my arm around her and stay right where I am, showing her I’m not moving from this spot. “Never once have you been too much for me, Hazel,” I tell her, the words coming easily. “Don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily.”
“Good, because I don’t want to lose you, too,” she says.
I’ve lost everything I’ve ever loved.My brain trips. Did she imply that she loves me?
Because I also feel it.
“Bad things happen, but that doesn’t mean that’s how it’ll always be,” I say, the instinct to cheer her up kicking in.
“Right.” She shakes her head like she’s snapping out of the memory. “All that to say, it’s pretty cool to be in a theater now.”
“I’d love for you to come to opening night,” I offer.
A small smile grows on Hazel’s lips. “I’ll be there. Is it a play or a musical?”
“Musical.Windfall’s about an estranged family that inherits a lakeside resort that used to be the go-to destination in its heyday. Now it’s falling apart, and they have to decide whether to work together to sell the place or bring it back to life,” I explain.
Hazel straightens a little. “Wait. The show is calledWindfall?”
“To the family, this was like winning the jack… pot…” I trail off. How had I not made that connection before?
“Is it life imitating art or the other way around?”
“We’ll never know.”
Hazel kicks her leg out and leans back on her palms. “We used to watch the sunset like this at my grandparents’ house. My grandpa built a special sunset-watching spot on the roof deck.”
“The perks of building your own home.”
“I had always wanted to make that my sunrise-watching spot,” she says wistfully. “But this isn’t too bad, either.”
Hazel really is in an impossible situation. All her life, she’s fixed things for her family because she’s never had anyone to fix things for her.
“It’s not your responsibility to anticipate everything that can go wrong,” I say. “Or for your bullshit detector to be one hundred percent accurate.”
“It’s usually pretty accurate,” she says.
I so desperately want to do more to help. To say something positive to try to make her pain go away completely.
But just like Hazel doesn’t have to fix her family’s problems, I don’t need to fix this.
“I’m here for you,” I say. “I’ll be right herewithyou. I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”
