Page 6 of Unexpected

Luke

I hadn’t seenHazel since she showed up at my door, returning Sadie a few days earlier. Michael still appeared to be out of town, and Hazel kept to herself in her house. But when I finally got home after a few after-work drinks with some coworkers, I caught a glimpse of her through my bedroom window.

The people who planned our neighborhood either had a sick sense of humor or were just shit at their jobs; all the homes were close together, but Hazel’s house seemed closer than the neighbor on the other side. Not to mention, it was our bedroom windows that were only a couple of feet apart. If I wanted to, I likely could have reached out my window and touched hers.

I pushed my bedroom door open, but it caught on dirty laundry piled behind it. I scooped it up but paused before turning on the light. Through the window, a dull light streamed between the dark curtains and cast a warm glow over my cluttered space.

I pulled one curtain panel back and peered through the window. I expected to see an empty room, but with her curtains also open, I could easily see Hazel, perched on the edge of her bed, watching the TV near the window. Her legs, wrapped in tight black leggings, were swinging off the edge of the bed, and she cupped a bowl in her hand. She scooped a bite of whatever was in the bowl and licked the contents off the spoon.

Based on how she was dressed and the flush on her cheeks, I assumed she had just finished a workout. The woman was always running, and dear God did it show. Watching her lick what I believed to be ice cream off the spoon should not have affected me the way it did, but I unintentionally began envisioning that it was my dick she was licking so intently and not a damn spoon. Even if she was feisty sometimes, it was a lucky damn spoon.

I began to feel creepy, and with the steady tightening of my pants, I felt like a fucking perv, too. I was about to let the curtain fall as Hazel stood and set her bowl on the dresser near the TV. In one swift motion, she grabbed the hem of her top and lifted it over her head. She tossed it to the side and took another generous bite of ice cream.

I didn’t make a move to back away from the window. I clearly had leaped over the line into being really fucking creepy when she turned in the direction of the window and I was given a front-row view of her tits pushed up in her sports bra. It was neon and the sweat covering her cleavage glistened in the dim light of the room and the TV.

She passed by the window and came back with a water bottle and her phone. She stared at her phone screen for a moment before shaking her head and setting it next to her bowl of ice cream. She yanked the hair tie from her hair and angrily scrubbed a hand through it. Her face was twisted in frustration.

What had she seen or read that made her so angry? She contemplated taking another bite, the spoon hovering just in front of her lips before she dropped it back in the bowl and pushed it away.

From what I could see of her bedroom, it was well decorated with light colors, but I couldn’t pull my eyes from her long enough to notice much more. The thought that her piece-of-shit fiancé shared the room with her made my fucking skin crawl. Although he was never home, which somehow made it better and worse.

She probably spent more nights alone than she did with him.

Speaking of the POS, I took the opportunity to try and look closer at her bruised arm. I squinted, and the bruise was still a deep blue close to her shoulder, but it was beginning to heal. The outside of it was fading to a light yellow. I couldn’t see the one on her collarbone.

Lost in thought, I only caught a glimpse of Hazel’s naked back as she shed her bra and stepped into her bathroom, out of view. A raw rage boiled through my veins. Her back was littered with black-and-blue bruises. They crawled up and down her spine, and although I couldn’t get a good look, I knew it couldn’t have been an accident.

I balled my fists and tried to tamp down the blinding anger. It was possible that even if I kept an eye on her, it wouldn’t be enough. What had she gone through to get those bruises?

FIVE

Hazel

I didn’t wantto go to the damn Halloween party. But when Becky sprinted out of her house as I was just beginning my nightly run the week before, I was too caught off guard to come up with a good enough excuse. I mean, I had plenty of excuses, but they were all ones that I’d already tried.

Then she threw in that her daughter, Emmy, was looking forward to seeing me, and I caved. I wasn’t the biggest fan of Becky, but her daughter was incredibly sweet. In the years since we moved to Austin, I had become close to Emmy and occasionally babysat when needed. She also loved to show up at our door unannounced, requesting to go to the park just down the street or to bake cookies.

There were a number of times that we passed her house on our way to the park, and you could hear her parents bickering from inside. She came to see me when their arguing was relentless and she needed a break. And for that reason, I never turned Emmy away.

It had been a while since Emmy showed up at my door—which I took as a good sign. It had also been a while since Becky had invited me to a party. I realized that Becky was a stay-at-home mom whose hobby was being the best stay-at-home mom, which meant parties for every holiday or for no reason at all.

So, with Emmy on my mind, I threw on a tight, long-sleeve black top and my favorite high-waisted jeans. I went for a modest black chunky heel and some light makeup to complete the look. I felt like my clothes were my armor, shielding me from the outside world and everything in it.

I fidgeted in the mirror for a moment too long, eyeing my cleavage and wondering if it was too much for a neighborhood Halloween party when I got a panicked text from Becky.

If you don’t get here right now, I think Emmy is going to have a fit! Where are you?

I knew what the text meant: I’m tired of dealing with my sometimes-unruly daughter. Please come relieve me of my motherly duties for at least a little while.

On that note, I decided my top would have to be fine, grabbed my small cross-body bag and headed out the door. I locked the door behind me and stepped down the front path. I wrapped my arms around my body, shielding as best I could from the chilly air, and set out at a quick pace toward Becky’s. It was a short walk—they only lived on the other side of Luke and Josh—but the wind whipped furiously and unseasonably so for October in Texas.

I intentionally kept my gaze from lifting to Luke’s house. There was something about him—although I’m not sure what—that threw me off balance. Each interaction was different with him. For a while, we didn’t interact at all, then the parties began, and Sadie started showing up in my yard regularly, so most of our interactions were arguing. But as of recently, Luke seemed less inclined to argue with me as the arguing took on a flirty tone—on his part, not mine. I was beginning to believe he enjoyed our banter and our ridiculous arguments.

Most of our arguments were pointless. I would get angry that there were cars in our driveway or that the music from a party was too loud. He would tell me to get the stick out of my ass, and we would go back and forth with nothing resolved. If I was being honest with myself, it was kind of fun when the actual anger wore off. Would I ever admit that out loud? Absolutely not. But he kept me on my toes.

But for the last few weeks, his fight was slowly decreasing, and it was making me uncomfortable. His usual bored look was replaced by a heavy gaze. Like he was really trying to look at me. To see me.

I didn’t want him to see me. I didn’t think he’d like what he saw.

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