“So, wait. You’re actually thinking of staying in the lab with the jerk,” Lucy piped up, “just so you don’t have to disappoint your professor, who doesn’t even let you do the work you want and takes total advantage of you?”
It wasn’t far from what Ash had said that night at the Country Kitschin’.
Val raised an eyebrow at Hazel. “I don’t want to tell you what to do, but…”
“But I should submit my transfer request?”
“Right now.”
With her non-polished hand, Hazel opened her laptop and did just that.
—
Now that she and her father were speaking more openly, Hazel wasn’t quite ready to leave. He seemed to feel the same, circlingher car for the third time, checking every inch of it for some sign of impending threat, some excuse, she thought, to make her stay longer. Finally, he said, “Well, kiddo, guess you’re good to go.” He hugged her, one hand securing her head to his chest. “Friday. Don’t forget.”
They’d agreed to a weekly phone call to keep their respective doors more open to each other. “Five o’clock,” she confirmed. “I won’t forget.”
It felt like she was locked in a time loop, retracing her route out of town again so soon. She half expected to end up stuck in Garrettsville a third time.
She didnotexpect a detour that sent her through her old neighborhood.
Though she didn’t have to, Hazel took a few extra turns and eased to a stop in front of her old house. An inflatable snowman lay airless in the lawn, like it had melted. A basketball hoop had been mounted over the garage. She wondered if the same boy she’d assumed putStar Warsposters on her old walls returned to this home from college on holidays, or if a new family lived here now.
Once, every little change had felt like she was losing a piece of herself. She’d thought if she didn’t see it, she wouldn’t feel it. But now, Hazel didn’t feel heartbroken, only curious.
In the side yard, a tree stretched its branches into the clear sky, and she realized it was the pecan sapling her father had planted, which had never produced nuts before they moved. Now mature and tall, it cast shade over a good portion of the yard—more in summer probably, when its leaves were full. And dangling from its branches and littering the ground below was an absolute bounty of pecans.
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
For three days Ash gave himself whiplash, jerking his head every time the Living Room door jangled with a new customer. It was never Hazel. Each day she didn’t show chipped away at his commitment not to reach out to her.
But he knew her well enough to stay the course. Hazel might not believe in afters, but she did believe in fresh starts.
This time, the source of his whiplash was Cami’s entrance. The café was closing at three p.m. for New Year’s Eve, and no customers were coming in, but still, he snapped around with the same wild hope. Cami frowned sympathetically. “Still no sign of her?”
“Who?” piped up Jade, a new employee he’d been training.
Cami raised a teasing eyebrow, which Jade didn’t miss.
“Someone who’s had you checking over your shoulder every two minutes since I got here?” Jade guessed.
Ash shook his head at Cami and dug two sets of keys out of his pocket, slid them across the counter. “Thanks for letting me borrow your truck,” he said, then pointed upstairs, indicating the loft space. “And for the last two years.”
“You can always come back if you need to,” she said.
“Thanks.” He followed both of them to the door, where he pinned an envelope to the community board, just in case.
Outside, Jade invited him once more to a New Year’s Eve party, but he wasn’t in the mood for a party. He’d fantasized allday about tracking down Hazel’s address, showing up at her place tonight, laying his heart out for her. A grand gesture. The old Ash, breaking through the surface.
But the only gesture left for him was the most modest. Trusting and waiting. He still believed she’d come, when she was ready. And he wasn’t going anywhere.
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
A few days in Houston turned into a week. Hazel spent it catching up with Sylvia, sleeping in way too late, and playing with the little orange kitten, which to her boyfriend’s horror, Sylvia had named Baby Dave. Being with her best friend replenished something vital Hazel had been missing, though she still checked her phone obsessively, hoping Ash would text and anticipating Dr. Sheffield’s response to her transfer request.