“Hi.” I smiled, offering him my cup as he sat beside me.
“Why are you up so early?” he asked, grunting in pleasure from the hot liquid warming his throat.
“Got thirsty. Also, I was covered in more fabric than a person who has reached the maximum weight capacity in his carry-on luggage and started to put on every item of clothing to get through airport security.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m sorry. You were shivering. I wanted you to get warm.”
I wanted to make a silly comment about how I knew a better way to get warm, but I swallowed the words.
“Thank you,” I said as he handed me the cup. “For everything,” I added, and looked at him with an earnest look. “Taking me to the hospital. Taking care of me.”
He held my gaze but stayed silent. The silence stretched until he finally started the conversation I didn’t even want to have with myself.
“Hazel, why? What happened?” he asked, trying not to accuse me, but rather to understand. I almost heard the pain in his voice. “Why didn’t you say something? Is it because it’s all of us? Because you don’t know us that long? Or is it because of me?”
Yes! Now I heard it. He was hurt.
I dropped my gaze, feeling his eyes on me. “I... I don’t know.” It was the truth. “I was ashamed, I guess. It’s hard for me to... to ask for help.” Luke’s expression tightened.
“You know, my mom, she always taught me to speak up, whether I saw injustice or happiness, sadness or kindness, around me. She taught me to always show emotions becausethat’s what makes us human.” I tried to explain the chaos in my head.
“And it sounds good in theory, but with her, emotions were always extreme. She was...” I hesitated, wanting to keep some things hidden, but then remembered how good it felt to be honest the night before. Before I got everyone high and almost made out in the pool. “She was bipolar.” Luke’s breath hitched. As expected.
“I’m sorry,” he offered.
“Even though it was hard, I could feel them, you know?” He studied me. My words. The pauses in-between. “All these emotions at their peak performance. Somehow, it made me appreciate them even more. Every emotion, however hard, how overwhelming, would always pass, and you’d be left knowing you experienced it all. And survived,” I added, letting the last word drift like a feather. “I know it sounds silly, bu—”
“It doesn’t,” he interrupted. Warmth spread through my chest.
“I was in Portugal when she got worse. My dad called, asking for help. I remember his voice as if it were yesterday. How excruciating it was for him to slowly lose the woman he loved so much. I moved back, and when she...” I swallowed hard, rubbing the tiny pearl on my necklace Mom gave me on my 18th birthday. “When shedecidedto leave us,” I whispered. Luke froze, the realization finally sinking in. “My father mentally checked out, buried himself in work, forgot to grieve. So I grieved on my own.” It sounded so simple, so straightforward, but it almost destroyed me.
Luke exhaled heavily. “I’m so sorry. He should’ve been there.”
“Everyone grieves differently. I can’t blame him.”
“You should.” His face betrayed his own surprise at saying it. Silence stretched between us before I continued.
“There were times when her depression and manic attacks were too emotionally draining, and I asked Dad for help, but he avoided her. It was too painful for him. The woman he fell in love with was nowhere to be found. After trying to reach him so many times, I started feeling guilty for even asking. Like I wasn’t getting the message.” Years of hurt poured out of me, but I couldn’t stop anymore. I needed to get it out.
“And then there was Jackson.” Luke tensed when I mentioned his name.
“He didn’t treat me badly, but there were times when I felt so sad. I needed someone, but somehow he didn’t notice that I needed him more than he could give. And at the end of the day, it was the same story as with my dad. I tried, multiple times to ask for support, for help, for what I needed, and it just got lost somewhere between our worlds. So I just... stopped. Because either he didn’t see it, or he didn’t care.” Saying the words out loud actually felt more painful than the emotions themselves.
“I stopped asking people something they were not capable of giving. In the end, we were just unlikely roommates with me crying on the sofa and him working in his office. Once he caught me and just said, ‘Feeling down today?’ and then just walked away. Like I was a period cramp or something. I felt like an imposition.”
“Like that Taylor Swift song?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood.
“Yeah, like that Taylor Swift song.” I smiled, shrugging my shoulders. “I needed him more, and he needed me less.” I kept my gaze on the horizon, trying my hardest to breathe in the peace that sunrise offered.
“It was just too much for me. And after a long period of internal struggle and guilt, I decided I couldn’t keep doing this and ended things.”
Luke took my hand in his, stroking it lightly. And I let him. I watched his movements like they were a beautiful dance. A moment to remember.
“So now, I’m just this,” I gestured to myself, “this person.” Luke’s eyes were on me, never faltering, never hiding from what I’d shown him. Just holding space for me.
“A wonderful person.” His voice was sweet and calmed my heart like honey for a sore throat. “You’re just a human, Hazel. For someone so willing to give everything you have, it’s a shame you’ve put your walls up so high you’ve forgotten how to ask or even receive love from people who’d be willing to give it.”
And there it was again. Him messing with my head. How could someone so genuine in his thoughts act so differently from what he believed? Of course, he wasn’t a monster. I’d been hurt tonight, and he offered help, but knowing his life, the girls, the one-night stands... It just didn’t make sense that he’d sit here teaching me how to live my life. How to protect myself from pain. Then again, in his eyes, I was doing the same thing—wanting to help others but never trusting them to do the same for me.
