Page 110 of Take Me Home

Then, Maggie ran out onto the driveway, feet shoved into June’s fuzzy boots, a throw blanket falling from one shoulder. Nick emerged from his rental car, and she threw her arms around her husband.

Ash and his father got out of the truck as everyone else poured from the house. Maggie cried, and then his mom burstinto tears at the sight of the girls in Nick’s arms, and hell, Ash got misty-eyed too at the happy reunion.

After welcoming Nick, Ash and his dad headed to the dealership once more. They rode in silence for several minutes until his dad said, “Any word from Hazel?”

“Nope.”

“What’s your plan, then?”

Ash shook his head. “I don’t actually have a plan. I’m waiting. I’m buying a car. Beyond that…” He shrugged.

The light ahead turned red, and he slowed to a stop. His dad shifted in his seat. Ash wondered if he was uncomfortable, but if his dad needed something, he could ask. They both looked around the empty intersection. No one was out today.

After a minute, his dad said, “You think she’ll come around?”

The light finally turned green, and Ash pulled forward. “I’m kind of counting on it.”

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

By Christmas evening, Hazel knew what she had to do: drive to Ash’s house and, once she was there in front of him,…magically figure out what to say. She was unlocking her car when her phone buzzed.JUST ASH.The happy surprise of his name on her phone sent her heart into her throat. She had to swipe twice to open the message.

Just Ash:Hey, just wanted to let you know I’ve got a ride home. Merry Christmas, Hazel.

She waited, but nothing more came. It felt abrupt and final. No opening for questions, for persuading him otherwise. Even thatMerry Christmasstung—like he’d done her a favor, freeing her from her obligation to him.Merry Christmas! You never have to face me again!

Yes, she’d said horrible things. Yes, she’d cut him off. But only for two days. She was back. She was ready—or at leastwilling—to face the mess she’d made, to figure out how to fix it with him, even if that meant trapping them in her car for eight hours until they talked everything out.

But the longer she mulled over his message, the more her stomach twisted and her hopes withered. He’d gone to the trouble of finding another way home so he wouldn’t have to ride with her. This, from the guy who’d worked so hard to fix his lastrelationship, the girl had to cheat to get rid of him. The guy who, at his essential core,kept trying. He was just…giving up. Just like that.

So, she sent the only response that wouldn’t expose how crushed she felt: a cheery, totally fineOkay. Merry Christmas!

Then she immediately texted Sylvia, asking if she could come see her for a few days, and retreated to the comfort of her bed.

Not five minutes later, a knock sounded on her door, and then it cracked open, and Val and Lucy were standing at the threshold. Val held up a basket of nail polishes. “We were just about to do our nails. Want to join?”

Hazel eyed their coordinating Christmas-red hair and wondered if their nails would match, too. But where she’d once found their matching a bit cringey, she saw it differently now—a mother who was willing to look a little silly in the name of bonding with her daughter. Hazel saw the love in the gesture, and she surprised herself by saying, “Okay.”

To her further surprise, they both moved in and flanked her on the bed. Hazel flipped over a few bottles half-heartedly, trying not to let her focus drift to her phone and thoughts of Ash, and read the polish names: Teal It Like It Is, Burn It Down, Reclaiming My Thyme, Blood of My Enemies. “These are…intense,” she said with a laugh. “They’re, like, weirdly aggressive feminist affirmations.”

Val waved a bottle of bright purple. “I’m doing Nobody’s Girlfriend.”

“Is there one for getting over a—”Break up,she almost said.

It didn’t matter that she cut herself off. Something about Val’s soft-eyed head tilt told Hazel she knew. Maybe her sudden lack of plans with Ash after running off with him all week hadn’t slipped Val’s notice. Hazel took a deep breath and said instead, “Getting over academic imposter syndrome?”

Lucy selected a light brown. “How about Taupe of the Class?”

Hazel took it.

Val started filing her nails. “So, what’s this imposter syndrome about?”

Hazel shrugged.

“You know, this is kind of my wheelhouse. My foundation helps shape smart, driven, sociologically disadvantaged women for leadership roles in business, media, local politics…Nine times out of ten, these amazing women, like you, already have the goods a million times over. They just don’t believe in themselves yet.”

Hazel considered brushing off her admission but decided instead, as they filed and then began to paint their nails, to tell them about her struggle to handle all her grad assistant responsibilities, Sheffield’s endless errands, the hostile upper-year student making her lab hell, and her hesitation to request the transfer to Dr. Tate.

---