“I’m not very far into the story, but I love the world building. I love the details and the development. It’s so different from what we do.”
“Is this your firstnon-children’s book?”
“Yeah, I tried to write a romance in college but that was terrible.” Her cheeks are practically crimson and I can’t help but smile.
“Was it filled with sexy scenes?”
“Oh, gosh, no.” She laughs. “I like to read them, like those ones by Sloane Daniels,” she says conspiratorially, and my heart skips a beat in my chest, “but I amnotthe one to write them. And don’t tell Aunt Amelia about that. She’d be absolutely horrified if she saw what’s on my e-reader.”
“I’ll be sure to accidentally destroy it and clear your search history if it comes to that,” I promise as I hold up my right hand.
“You’re asaint.” My smile falters as she says the wordsaint, the intonation strange and forced.
God, I’m losing it.
Clearing my throat, I try to focus back on the present. On my friend. Without letting paranoia get the better of me. Without looking for things that aren’t truly there.
“Do you have a date lined up for your novel?”
“What? Oh no, this is just for fun.” She sighs. “You know how my aunt would have a field day if she knew I was writing anythingfantasyrelated.”
I want to tell her she’s allowed to write what she wants and that I can help her keep it hidden.
But I don’t.
Not just because Tom would probably lock me in my house indefinitely but also because deep down, I don’t know if I can trust Hazel to keepmysecret.
I hate that this is my reality, so instead I just smile. “I think it’s really great that you’re writing something you’re passionate about. It’s important to have that balance.”
“You’re totally right,” she agrees, looking at her watch. “Do you have to leave, or do you have a couple of minutes? I wanted to go check out the boutique across the street. They have the cutest dress in there I want to try on.”
“Let’s go,” I tell her, typing out a text to Tom, his gaze meeting mine across the room, and for the briefest of seconds, it feels like it’s justus.Shaking the ridiculous thought away, I stand. “I think I deserve a new dress too.”
21
TOM
It’s my turn to be quiet on the ride home from Kat’s little outing with Hazel, the information Royce sent me sitting uneasily in my gut. It’s not definitive by any means but it’s still something.
“What do you think of my dress?” she asks shyly, pulling me back to the present.
“Are you fishing for compliments, Kat?” I tease, a smile curving up the corner of my lips. She seems shocked by the playfulness and hell, I am too, but I don’t regret it especially since this might be the last good memory she has with Hazel if we confirm Hazel is one of the people trolling her online—or worse.
Still too soon.
“I might be,” she concedes, turning in her seat enough to look at me.
“I like it.”
I like you.
I grip the steering wheel harder, the leather thankfully silent as my knuckles on my left hand turn white. My voice is even, my eyes covered by the reflective lenses of my sunglasses.
Cool, calm, and collected.
But on the inside I’m having a visceral reaction to the way she was laughing as she twirled in the dark green dress with the white polka dots. It’s the color of her office, and I have a feeling that’s why she was damn near radiant.
It’s her.
