Page 28 of Unexpected

“Fine,” I conceded, only to finish the conversation quickly.

I didn’t move when he stood and began to walk past me. Shoulder to shoulder, he stopped, and I could see the struggle on his face. What he was struggling with, I wasn’t sure, but he reached his hand out and ran his fingers down the length of my arm from just below my shoulder, across my elbow to where the sleeve of my shirt stopped at my wrist.

His touch—one I wished so badly I could feel on my skin and not through the fabric of my shirt—didn’t feel judgmental as I thought it might. But I felt the pity within him almost boil over.

He didn’t linger but a second more before he continued out of the kitchen, down the hallway and into his bedroom. I followed behind him for a moment and paused just out of sight until I heard the shower turn on.

Once I knew he wouldn't hear me, I grabbed my purse from the entry table where I spotted it walking past earlier and located my phone and wallet inside. Without another thought, I pulled the strap over my head and across my body. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I held my breath as I sneaked out the back door. In a rush to flee Luke’s house and his suspicions, I didn’t even pause to say goodbye to Sadie as she sunbathed in the middle of the backyard.

Either Luke or the previous homeowners had built a small, raised garden in the back corner of the yard. A few leaves were sprouting out of the soil, but most of it was dirt. I hopped up on it, and when the rough wood cut into the bottoms of my feet, I realized that in my rush to leave, I forgot my damn shoes in his room.

It was too late, and I couldn’t turn back with the possibility of him stopping me, so I pushed through the mild pain and scaled the back fence. Again, saying a silent thank-you that our houses backed up to a greenbelt, I started walking. The grass wasn’t too tall, but I still paid as close attention as I could as I trudged along, all while pulling out my phone—ignoring the few dozen unread texts and missed calls from Michael—and ordered an Uber to pick me up around the corner.

Happy birthday to me.

THIRTEEN

Hazel

The driver droppedme off at my car a little after nine a.m., but I didn’t make it back to our house until almost an hour later.

I sat in my car in front of the bar for several minutes before I gathered enough strength to look at the several missed texts from Michael. I ignored the third call from Luke, as well as the several texts wishing me a happy birthday from various friends and relatives, as I opened the messages between me and Michael. Many of them were paragraph length and ran the spectrum of emotions. He was furious when I left, which turned into disgust and then he began to apologize for his part. The apologies morphed into worry, and it appeared that as of this morning, he was getting angry again.

Before I left the bar, I texted him that I was on my way home. And sure enough, when I pulled into the driveway, a tired and disheveled Michael was standing on our front porch waiting for me.

I’d never done a walk of shame before, but I knew that’s what it would’ve felt like as Michael watched me step out of my car, close the door, and make my way toward him. I couldn’t read the expression on his face, and his squinted eyes could have been relief or anger or a whole host of other emotions. I couldn't have guessed what he may have been feeling.

“Glad you’re alive. I was about an hour from calling the police and reporting you missing,” he said as I stopped at the bottom of the porch stairs. My phone was buzzing relentlessly in my purse, and I knew it was Luke.

“I’m sorry, Michael,” I whispered just loud enough for him to hear. To my right, Luke’s front door banged open and out stepped a very large, pissed-off man. With his phone still to his ear—probably listening to my voice mail since my phone was no longer vibrating—he immediately looked at me and then Michael.

He appeared relieved to see me, but when he saw Michael, with his arms crossed, staring down at me, Luke’s eyes narrowed. I swear I saw a vein in his forehead bulge when their eyes met.

The stare down between the two was intense. Luke turned to us, arms rigid at his sides and shoulders taut just below his ears. He wasn’t just angry that I left, he was livid. Michael, although still staring at Luke, didn’t seem fazed by him at all. If Luke was looking at me with murder in his eyes, I would have been fazed, and maybe a wiser and less cocky man would have been, too.

Without breaking eye contact with Luke, Michael said, “Get in the house, Hazel.” It wasn’t a request; it was a demand that I would be stupid not to obey.

I couldn’t look at Luke. I wanted to, but Michael quickly flicked his eyes back to me, and I knew that if I even acknowledged Luke’s presence, it would only end badly.

Michael kept his emotions close to the vest until the last second, and Luke usually played the same game. But in the morning light, Luke’s emotions were evident in his eyes and his facial expressions. I saw the rage, but I wanted to see if the pity I noticed before was still there.

I gripped my purse tighter in my hands and hurried up the stairs, not pausing for a minute until I was through the door. I took a deep, relieved breath until I heard Michael slam the door behind me—the walls around it vibrating on impact. My breath was stuck, and my relief was gone.

“Would you like to tell me where you’ve been, Hazel?” I was suddenly very aware of him directly behind me, his body less than an inch from my own. His breath was hot on my neck and my ear, and I could still smell the alcohol on him. It was the smell of the extra expensive bourbon he had to buy. I didn’t want to hope that he had started drinking already that morning, but the smell was too potent to be left over from last night. It was either he just started drinking, or he’d never stopped.

When I didn't answer, my voice cut off by fear of his next move, he chuckled. “Why don’t you put your purse down, and let’s talk.” He lifted my purse from my hands and took my hand. “We have a lot to discuss and fix after you ran out last night.”

He led me to the couch, urging me forward by pulling my hand. His grip tightened when I didn’t move immediately, and I knew it was a warning. My fear carried me forward and kept my mouth shut when Michael told me to sit on the couch. He sat on the coffee table across from me, legs spread and elbows propped on his knees.

We were mere inches apart, but I had never felt further away from him.

He was disheveled, still wearing the same white shirt and slacks he’d worn yesterday, except his jacket and lavender tie were nowhere to be seen. The dark circles under his eyes closely resembled my own, and uncharacteristically, his hair was sticking out in every direction as though he’d been pulling his fingers through it all night.

“I’m going to ask this once, and I want the truth: where have you been?” His voice was a low rumble and was laced with disdain.

“I went to a bar, and then I went to a hotel.”

He nodded and peered up at me under hooded eyes. “I saw the charges for the bar, but there wasn’t a charge for a hotel room, Hazel.”

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