Page 36 of Take Me Home

She forced a bright smile. “Absolutely.”

—

Hazel made sure to leave the house before Val to sell the lie of having plans. Then she parked at a McDonald’s and ate lukewarm chicken nuggets. Despite what she’d told her father, she definitely would not be calling up Justin. Or Franny.

She wished instead that she’d brought Sylvia. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. Sylvia had holiday plans, and it wouldn’t have made sense at all, but Hazel also knew, if she’d asked, Sylvia would have come. And after growing up in Houston, she would have found a million things to marvel at in a town that felt to Hazel like a too-small coat. She would have demanded a trip to the sad windmill museum that Hazel went to forthreeschool field trips, would have bought the souvenir shirt that matched the welcome sign:Unlock Your Dreams in Lockett Prairie.

Hazel supposed she could kill a few hours at the library again. Or go see a movie, a luxury she hadn’t had time for in months. But guilt wriggled in. Maybe it wouldn’t have been that awkward to join Val at the nursing home. She didn’t know why, given all the other ways she bent over backward to please people, pleasing her father felt impossible today. And because of that, she’d boxed herself into a corner, nowhere to go, nothing to do.

She listened to a podcast about brain science until she finished her food and the car got cold. Again, she thought of the study Ash had mentioned about time passing more quickly in small-scaled spaces and wished to crawl into one of his models for the afternoon.

Yesterday, he’d told her to use his number. Just being polite, of course. He wassoexcited to see his family, he wouldn’t want to leave them. But he’d really been quite insistent.

She wouldn’t use it. Just to see, though, she thumbed through the A’s in her contacts. And was surprisingly let down when hisname wasn’t there. She checked the C’s for Campbell. Nothing. She started again from the top and scrolled until finally she foundJUST ASHin all caps. And then, forgetting entirely that she didn’t intend to use his number, she started texting.

Hazel:You have no idea how long it took me to find your number, Just Ash.

Hazel:I’m sure you’re busy with your family, so if you tell me to get lost it won’t hurt my feelings and we can pretend this never happened, but do you want to hang out?

Hazel:Again, you can say no. In fact, I’m expecting you to. Or nothing at all since you’re probably with your 17 sisters and nieces and not checking your phone every 5 minutes.

Cool. She sounded unhinged. Hazel searched “how to unsend texts” on the off chance this was possible. It wasn’t.

Hazel:Never mind. Please strike these messages from the official record, thanks.

Just Ash:Come pick me up.

Just Ash:You still there?

Hazel:Not if you’re making fun of me.

Just Ash:Cross my heart. My mom is kicking me out of the house.

Hazel:See you in 10, Asher.

—

Ash was on the porch with a blonde about their age, who was huddled under a big quilt, holding a coffee mug and a cigarette. A sister? The girl perked up at the sight of Hazel’s car and movedto come down the walk, but Ash blocked her. They exchanged some words. He plucked her cigarette and stubbed it out on the cement, and she flicked his ear. He jogged over, and just as he opened Hazel’s passenger door, the girl drawled suggestively, “Hey, Ash’sfriend.”

“Shut up,” he called back before dropping into the seat.

“Why did she say it like that?”

“No reason. Please, go.”

“Was that June?” she asked.

“That was June.”

“She’s so grown up. And pretty.”

“Pretty annoying,” he muttered, but as they left his block, he angled his body toward her, a pleased smile spreading. “So, what happened? Not a fan of the new fam?”

Hazel rolled her eyes. “I could ask you the same thing. How’d you get kicked out already?”

He unbuttoned his jacket. It was different than the gray peacoat he wore over his business clothes and the hoodie he’d worn on the trip here. This one was faded denim with a faux shearling collar. On anyone else, she’d think it was an ironic nod, nostalgic-trendy like corduroy overalls or a fanny pack. On Ash, though, it felt earnest.

“Where’s your scarf?” he asked.