CHAPTER 6
Grant
I retrieved our mail from the concierge desk, then slung it on the kitchen counter. After I got some water from the fridge, I flipped through the contents. It was mostly junk, but one piece stuck out. A sealed envelope with a single word typed on the front: Hazel.
It was my responsibility to protect her. I ripped it open. Inside, there was a typed letter:
How do you live with yourself?
An innocent man is in the ground.
Why didn’t Eric finish you himself?
All mistakes must be fixed.
The words hung in my mind.Mistakes.An image of Hazel flashed through my mind, one of my first memories of her:Eric wanted me to die, she had said, pleading with those sea-green eyes.It was a mistake. I didn’t know.Walking in the dark woods, together, but alone. Hazel forced to follow my commands.Or I would have stopped Dean sooner.
I crumpled the paper, almost tossing it in the garbage. But then I smoothed it out, reread it, and placed it in my pocket. A twisting sensation crawled through my stomach. Hazel couldn’t know about this, but the stalker knew exactly where Hazel lived. They could be hiding in plain sight. And though the choice of words were vague, the message was clear: this person wanted Hazel dead.
I returned to the concierge and lifted the envelope.
“Who left this?” I asked.
“Pardon, sir?” the woman asked.
“Can you tell me who left this note?”
She studied it for a moment, then shook her head. “No, sir. It was dropped off during another shift.”
I glanced around the lobby. The lush plants in the corners. Instrumental lo-fi played over the speakers. A glass table to the side with a single-cup coffee machine and a few bottles of alcohol. How long had it been since the stalker was here?
Inside of the apartment, alternative rock music was now blasting from Hazel’s room, playing over the patter of her running shower. Her laptop was open on the couch downstairs, a zipper pouch of trail mix next to it. In the fridge, she had made a place for her stash of sour vodka. She was everywhere I looked in the house, the kind of woman who made her presence known. At times, it was disorienting to live with her. But it was comforting too, to feel her presence. To know that she was undeniably there.
But Hazel was as fragile as she was fierce.
A need surged inside of me. Hazel was chaos wrapped in a human body, ready to jump into oncoming traffic, to throw the middle finger at a complete stranger, to throw herself overboard if she felt like it, to defend herself to the bitter end. And yet I had to protect her. Hazel was the type of person to latch onto the smallest hint of kindness. To be loyal even in the face of violence, because of that first impression. It landed her in some fucked up situations. Like Mom.
Out on the balcony, the city bustled below us. Men in business suits and women in cocktail dresses went in and out of the bar across the street. An endless line of cars drove by. A delivery man with a full hand truck entered a nearby store. The stalker could be any one of them. They could be watching our apartment right now.
I wouldn’t let Hazel land in a situation like this again. If I had to kill to protect her, then so be it. But I would make sure that she was prepared for the aftermath, when she didn’t need me any longer. I couldn’t be there for her forever.
The music volume decreased, and the shuffle of steps above demonstrated that she was out of the shower. I wasn’t leaving yet, but I had to ask. Would Hazel go with me?
I knocked on the door, expecting her to ignore me. She probably had earbuds blaring. But the door swung open, and Hazel, wrapped in a small towel, her hair damp, her face clean, her skin slightly red from the hot shower, stood in front of me. The towel was tight across her breasts, her legs were still dripping with water.
Fuck.
“Yes?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow and jabbing her chin towards me. “What do you want?”
I ran a hand through my hair. Her thighs were exposed, and the top of her chest was glistening, still moist. A drop of water sank down her collar bone, and I turned away, staring down the hall. Couldn’t she have gotten a bigger towel? I swear my towels were twice the size of hers and would have covered her from head to toe. I would have to plant one of mine in her bathroom later.
“I’ve got an errand to run,” I said. I kept my eyes fixed on the wall near the stairwell. “Would you like to go with me?”
“That depends.” She shifted her weight. “What is it?”
“Visiting my mom.”
“Oh.” Surprise lilt in her voice. I turned back to face her.
