Page 92 of Take Me Home

Ash did not want to do this. He didn’t want to hold her father’s hand through processing her outburst. He also knew, despite what she’d just told him herself, Hazel wouldn’t want Ash to expose any more of her feelings. After everything with his parents, he was mindful to help only in the exact way she wanted. But, God, if she and her dad would just talk, they could clear everything up. Once again, no matter which path Ash took here, he would hit a brick wall.

“It’s not my place,” he hedged, but Dan blocked his path.

“No, none of that. I’m making it your place. I’m asking for your help.”

That wasn’t how it worked. His loyalty was to Hazel. But an intense pressure rushed up from his chest into his throat, and he couldn’t hold it back anymore. “Justin wasn’t good to her.”

“To Hazel? She never told me that.”

“I know,” Ash said, pitching his voice low. He spotted a side door and stalked to it. “Because you don’t visit her. You don’t call her.” He yanked open the door. An empty alley. He marched back in the other direction, remembering the restroom where she’d dried off earlier.

“Now, hold on,” Dan said, jogging to keep up. “Just hold on a minute. I visit. I call every few—well, at least every month or so. I know she’s busy. I don’t want to smother her.”

Ash clenched his fists. “Don’t you get it? Youneedto smother her. I’ve practically forced myself into her company all week, and I think some part of her still doesn’t believe that Iwantto be with her. And it’s because nobody in her life has made her feel unquestionably, unconditionally wanted. I don’t get how that’s even possible. She’s fucking inc—” He cleared his throat, shook his head. “With respect, sir, she’s incredible.”

Dan slumped as though Ash’s words had physically hurt him. He opened his mouth to speak, face stricken, but nothing came out.

The noise of the party spilled through the doors as Val entered the foyer. “What happened? Is Hazel okay?”

Ash slipped into the bathroom as Dan turned to answer Val.

Hazel was at the sink, tears streaming down her cheeks, a wad of toilet paper clutched in her fist. He locked the door. “Are you bleeding?”

“It’s just a little cut.” Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “What is wrong with me?”

“Nothing.”

“I knocked over a table. I ruined the party. My dad—” She grabbed the side of the sink and breathed shallowly over it. “Oh God. I ruined everything.”

“You didn’t ruin anything. The music is already playing again. People are dancing. Listen. They’re half-drunk. No one cares.”

She was shaking her head, spinning out.

He needed to get her out of here. He crossed to a frosted window, felt for a latch.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Time for a Hazel getaway.”

—

She drove too fast, knuckles white on the wheel, swerving instead of braking for slow cars. She practically threw her cans at the security officer when they reached the neighborhood gate. And then they were inside the house, in her bedroom, and she began stuffing clothes into a bag.

“What are we taking?”

“Everything.” She shoved an empty box at him and steered him toward the massive Christmas tree in the corner. “Get your ornaments.”

“Hazel—”

“Just, please.” She yanked her phone and laptop chargers from the wall. “And can I…” Only now did she stop, fidgeting with the cords. “Shit. Would your parents mind if I…?”

He set the box down and stopped her in her tracks, held her face so she’d look at him. “Of course you can stay at my house.”

She drew in a shaky breath, the first full one he’d seen sincethey’d left the party. Then, she pulled away to cram the chargers into her bag. “Get those ornaments now, or you’ll never see them again.”

They were in and out in five minutes.

She let him drive to his house. She leaned her head against the window, even closed her eyes at one point. He wasn’t sure what she was thinking, but she was no longer crying or vibrating with anger when they pulled into his empty driveway.