Page 90 of Take Me Home

Ash’s attention was split in too many directions right now, and this disaster of a dinner couldn’t end soon enough.

Beside him, Hazel’s knee bounced anxiously, his blazer pulled tightly across her chest. When she’d emerged from the bathroom, cheeks splotchy and clothes still damp, he’d draped the jacket around her shoulders, and she’d threaded her arms through the long sleeves, pausing to breathe in the collar. It had seemed to fortify her enough to return to their table, her head held high, smile back in place, if a little stiff.

But neither of them had expected, as salads were cleared and entrées were placed before them, that the evening’s agenda would turn to speeches. No one tried to keep up the ruse of this being a holiday party anymore, offering their best to Hazel’s father and Val like the toast portion of a wedding, only the worst kind, where the mic wasn’t wisely limited to the immediate wedding party.

The woman currently holding the floor reminisced about Val and her kids touring the station early in their relationship, how everyone knew it was serious by the multiple emails Dan sent out beforehand, reminding people they were coming and suggesting interesting features of their various departments to show them. This, though, was better than the woman before her,who had claimed to have seen literal heart eyes the first time Val and Dan met, which had made Hazel stop eating.

And who could forget Justin lurking on the other side of the room by the bar? Ash had counted three times that he’d risen for another beer. His moody gaze had hardly left Hazel as he took long pulls. She was sure Justin thoughtshe’dinvited him here through her father. “You grew up nice. Let me give you a workout,” she mocked under her breath. “Seriously?”

Ash wasn’t sure what Justin had expected, but he knew that look—Justin’s flared nostrils, his tongue periodically running over his lower lip and probing into his cheek. Ash, who had spent years across fields and down dugout benches from Justin, could recognize when the guy was sulking.

“Doesn’t he look mad?” Hazel grumbled. “That’s rich. He really thought I’d invite him? He thought I’dwantto see him?”

“I don’t know,” Ash said. He’d suspected she had unresolved baggage with Justin, considering she’d never actually dealt with it, but he wasn’t sure what to do with just how worked up she was. It felt familiar, her keeping her eye on Justin across the room, not really noticing Ash right next to her. He adjusted his tie, but it didn’t relieve the tightness in his throat.

“Sorry.” Her hand found his under the table. “It’s not Justin I’m mad at,” she admitted with a little shrug. Her gaze cut to her father then back. “It’s just easier.”

Someone new took the microphone, and Hazel perked up. “Oh, I know him. He used to come over sometimes to watch football with my dad.”

The man introduced himself as Tom, a longtime friend and producer of Dan’s. Hazel seemed more relaxed, and Ash rolled the tension out of his shoulders, hopeful that at least one person in this whole room might remember she existed as he waxed romantic about the happy family.

“I’ve known Dan a long time,” Tom said. “He’s always been an even-keeled guy. Not the life of a party, but easy to get along with. You’d never know if he was having a bad day, or a great day, for that matter. But in the last couple of years, I’ve seen him come alive. And I credit you, Val. You and Lucy and Rafael. I don’t think he even knew what was missing all those years, but when he found you, you all just lit him up. You’ve made him a different, better man, truly. So”—he raised his glass—“to Val and the kids.”

Hazel stopped chewing. Everyone was looking at the family and he could feel the effort it took to not let her smile slip, just in case someone’s eyes should drift over to her, the forgotten daughter, the one who apparently wasn’t enough all those years to light up her father.

Fuck. He hated this. He should have insisted they leave. He should have set her father straight at the start of this, before she’d begged Ash to let her overlooked spot at their table go. He palmed her knee under the table, aching to offer more. He half expected her to pull away, to fortify herself by retreating inward. But then her hand covered his. He turned his palm and threaded their fingers together.

Finally, the toasts ended. Desserts were passed around, and Hazel’s father and Val were urged to dance on the parquet floor. They swayed to half of an instrumental version of “All You Need Is Love” before others joined them, and finally, finally, everyone’s attention was occupied enough that Hazel let herself slump back against her chair.

He waited until her father left the dance floor to mingle before tugging Hazel up by the hand and leading her to it. He didn’t have any words that would fix this, but he could hold her. In fact, he needed her close as much for his own benefit as for hers. Two steps onto the floor, she stopped. Patiently, he squeezedher hand, questioning, and she sighed, looped her arms around his neck, and shuffled closer.

“Hey,” Ash whispered as the first song ended. “You okay?”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.”

“It can’t be anything else.” She ran a hand down his shoulder, finally looking at him as the quartet played what he belatedly recognized was “Matilda” by Harry Styles, which he only knew because the twins spent hours watching concert clips from his tour. “You’re tense,” she said.

“I hate everyone here.”

Hazel laughed. It was soft but genuine. “I would have thought Justin being here was the worst thing that could happen tonight.”

“I hate that he hit on you.”

She studied him. “That bothered you? You played it so cool.”

“Yeah, well. Just because I want to throw you over my shoulder and get you out of here doesn’t mean it’s right. I know that’s some deeply problematic caveman shit.”

“You were jealous,” she mused, like it pleased her. And he was glad for anything that made her smile right now.

A visceral longing seized him, though—all those times he’d watched her in his back seat, all those times he’d wanted her to notice him, wanted her to choose him instead of Justin, even if loyalty to his friend stood in the way. He spoke before he could think better of it. “I always have been jealous, Hazel. Not just now. Always.”

She tilted her head in confusion, but then her lips parted in a silentOh. He fought the urge to take it back. He wanted it all, finally, out on the table.

“When I was with him…” she said.

“Yeah.”

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