“Not a problem,” she replied and the next moment, threw her arms around his neck and practically wrestled him back onto the mattress, into her embrace. This time, his head rested on her chest, and she wrapped her arms tightly around him.
“I thought we weren’t allowed to physically assault each other!”
“I was afraid you’d say no to the hug,” she whispered. “And I really wanted to give you one.”
The corners of his mouth twitched as Hazel threw a leg over his, further capturing him.
“I’m not resisting, Hazel. You don’t have to hold me like that.”
Hazel nodded, but didn’t loosen her grip. “Better safe than sorry!”
He had to laugh. He couldn’t help it because, damn, she was strong…and infinitely warm. When she kissed his cheek, the last of the tension drained from his body. “You do realize that you can’t make me stop being angry, right?”
“I don’t want to,” she said, surprised, running a hand through his hair. “You’re allowed to be angry. I probably would be too, if Penny were my sister.”
“Then why are you trying to crush me?”
She smiled uncertainly. “Because it helped me when you did it. It felt like you’d never let me go, if that was what I needed.”
He looked questioningly into her dark, sincere eyes. Would she? Never let him go if he asked? Because the world was better in the arms of Hazel Barrow.
“Okay,” he whispered. “Thanks. If I suffocate, though, you’ll take full responsibility.”
She laughed, her breath fanning over his ear. “All right. I’m good with paperwork, so that won’t be a problem.”
Snorting, he sank deeper into the pillows and Hazel’s touch. She was right. It helped that she was holding him, as if she needed it as much as he did. It made him feel less alone, even though he felt like he’d lost the only ally in his life – Penny.
His chest tightened, even though her touch felt so painfully good. Even though she gently stroked his hair, didn’t force him to talk, and just let him be as he was…
“You know, I always imagined it differently,” he murmured into the silence.
“What did you imagine differently? Us?”
“No.” He smiled, raised his hand, and his thumb lingered gently against her cheek. “We are exactly as I always knew we’d be. I’m talking about work. I always imagined that achieving my life’s goal would be more satisfying. That’s all.”
Hazel blinked at him, uncomprehending. “But you haven’t achieved your life’s goal yet.”
His diaphragm tightened. “What?”
“Your goal was never to take over the Hawks, Gareth,” she said softly, kissing him gently on the forehead. “Your goal has always been to do whatyouwant, on your terms, and to no longer have to prove to anyone that you’re more than your surname. That you’re more and different than people realize at first glance. But you’ll never reach that goal because you onlyhave control over yourself, not the minds of others. So maybe you should find a new goal.”
Gareth opened his mouth, which had become strangely dry, and tried to understand her words — but he had trouble following her. “What are you talking about?”
Hazel took a deep breath and hugged him even tighter. “Gareth. People think they know you. They look at you and decide you take your coffee black. That you have no sense of humor. That you’re hard and cold. They hear your name and think that’s the reason for your success — and that has always bothered you. Because even your father says so! Because even he obviously doesn’t know you, otherwise, he would never have written that stupid email. But you can’t change how much money you were born with. You can’t stop the world from thinking what it thinks. You can only loveyourselffor who you are. And that has always been incredibly difficult for you because you believe you don’t deserve the wealth and success. But you do. And no one can take that away from you. Not your father, not the press, not the stupid people at Harvard who convinced everyone that you bought your good grades and believed that I was worthless.” Her eyes glittered in the dim light and Gareth saw so much warm emotion in them that his heart clenched. She should never be sad — especially not for him. “You know,” she continued unfazed. “For someone who's so ridiculously arrogant in so many areas of life, you don’t believe in yourself nearly enough. I don't mean in your abilities or intelligence, but just belief in the person you are. In your character. Your sweet, funny, soft, warm sides. Because you have so many! I hate that your parents prevented you from being proud ofyourselfrather than what you’ve achieved. But only the person you’ve become, who has such a big heart — even though the world doesn’t give you credit for it.”
“Hazel...” he whispered, his voice strangely ragged and his throat uncomfortably tight. No one had ever told him he had a beautiful character, and the thought that she really thought so felt like a velvet glove wiping the anger from his mind and the bitterness from his heart. It was just… “Beingmeisn’t an achievement.”
“That’s not true,” she said urgently, cupping his face so he had to look at her. “I think being yourself is thegreatestachievement, especially when there are so many people trying to talk you out of it. When there are so many people who want you to be someone else.”
“But…” Gareth blinked uncertainly. “Then what is the goal I’m working toward?”
“To be happy and content.”
“Those are feelings, Hazel. Feelings aren’t goals.”
She smiled. “None that you can see, no. But most of the time, what we can’t see is worth more anyway. Always wanting to achieve more is easy, Gare. Being content is difficult.”
Suddenly, the pressure on his chest returned. What she expected of him was straight up…frightening. “I can’tplanto be content.”
