Hazel gives me that look—the one that slices clean through every defense I pretend to have. “You really thought I’d just getback on that bike with you?” Her voice sounds light, but the frustration sitting underneath it is sharp enough to bleed.
“I didn’t…” I start, then shut my mouth because finishing that sentence would end with me sounding like a complete idiot. Or worse, like I care too much.
Sam’s grin widens. He has not smiled like that in months, and now he is doing it at my expense.Great.“Zack,” he says slowly, dragging it out like he is savoring every second—because he is. “Why are you pacing like a trapped raccoon?”
“I’m not pacing.”I absolutely am.
Hazel tilts her chin toward the motorcycle in the driveway. “You brought me all the way here, refuse to explain anything, and you honestly think I’m just going to hop back on like we’re going for ice cream? Seriously?”
My stomach twists. I cannot look at her, or Sam, or anything that might force me to say the thing stuck in my throat. I stare at the ground instead. “It’s safer if you just come with me.”
“Safer from what?” Hazel asks. “The grass? Your porch? The overwhelming tension in your shoulders?”
Sam bursts into a choking laugh. I shoot him a look that translates toshut the hell up, but he just lifts both hands like he is innocent.
“I’m not doing this with an audience,” I say, my voice tight. “Hazel, please. Just come with me. I’ll explain once we’re on the road.”
In a moment my hand is on her lower back, I’m half expecting her to pull away, but she doesn’t. Hazel lets me usher her outside so that our conversation can be done alone, so that we can be alone. The moment the door shuts behind us she spins around on her heel, as if ready to pounce.
“No,” she says, immediately. Her arms tighten across her chest. “You dragged me here without warning, you’ve beenacting weird since we arrived, and now you refuse to tell me what is going on.”
“I’m not being weird,” I lie. My voice cracks, which only further proves her point.
Sam snorts. “He is definitely being weird. I know my brother. This is top-tier weird behavior.”
Hazel steps closer, and something in my chest contracts hard enough to hurt. She stands close enough I can smell her shampoo, close enough that all her frustration and heat roll right into me and scramble my brain. “Zack. Look at me.”
I don’t want to, because the second I do, I will tell her everything. Icannotdo that—not with Sam here. Not with the weight of the truth sitting like an anvil between my ribs. But I look anyway.
Her eyes soften just a little, and it is enough to make something inside me loosen in a way I am not prepared for. It feels dangerous. It feels like she can see right through me.
“Talk to me,” she says, quietly.
I want to. God, I want to. But all that comes out is the hard swallow I try to hide. I turn my head away. “Not here.”
Hazel groans in frustration. Sam shakes his head like he is watching a soap opera. I stand there in my own home trying not to come apart, trying not to say things I cannot take back. The realization hits me that I really do not want to talk about this here or now. Maybe they’re right. Maybe leaving is not smart. Maybe nothing I’m doing is smart.
“I’m not doing this in front of Sam,” I finally say. “Either we get on the bike now, or I send you on your way and we will never get to the bottom of Cam and Slic—” My throat stops.Too late.“Leyla’sdisappearance.”
The name hangs in the air. I know I have made a mistake before I see their reactions. Sam’s face drops. Hazel’s eyes widen. Everything in the atmosphere shifts, heavy and still—likethe world has paused at the exact wrong moment. This is not the direction any of us wanted this conversation to go.
I scrub a hand over my face. “Why don’t I make us dinner? Hazel, you haven’t eaten. Sam, you need to eat, too.” A resigned breath leaves me. “It’s late. It’s dark. Leaving now without looking over everything properly is stupid. And I’m tired.”
“But Zack—” Hazel starts, but I lift a hand and she shuts her mouth.
“No, Hazel. Think about it. It’s late, and the sky looks like it’s about to rain like a cow pissing on a flat rock.”
My voice stays steady, way steadier than I feel, because inside everything is tilting sideways. Hazel’s expression freezes for half a second before she folds over laughing. She puts a hand on her thigh, completely losing her composure. Her laughter bursts out of her like someone shook it loose.
“Zack,” she gasps, almost wheezing. “Who even says that?”
Sam laughs too. “Unfortunately, my brother. He collects country sayings like baseball cards at this point.”
I should feel embarrassed. Usually, I would. But Hazel’s laughter cuts right through the tension in a way I did not see coming. It is bright, almost too bright for how dark everything feels, but something in my chest eases. Something unfamiliar and unwelcome, but warm.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I held. “Yeah, yeah. Mock the man making your dinner. Real smart.”
Hazel wipes her eyes, but the smile stays soft around the edges. When she follows me to the door, her shoulder bumps mine. It is light, barely anything, but it hits hard enough that I feel it in places I do not want to acknowledge. She might not be mad anymore, but she is definitelysomething—and I can feel her attitude brewing right under her skin.
