But this wasn’t about my fury. This was about her.
I ignored the comment. “Who were you drinking with?” I asked.
“Christine. Remember? From Club Hades?”
“It’s called the Afterglow now,” I said. “New owner.” She didn’t need to know that I was the new owner.
“Okay. I met her atthe Afterglow,” the brashness increased in Hazel’s tone. “She was the one who defended me from Oliver. Remember? When you were too late?” Fucking Oliver. I was about to remind her why I had not chased her, that she had told me not to after a few strikes from the belt, but then Hazel added, “He was at the bar too, by the way.”
The red light came into sudden clarity and I slammed on the brakes.
“He was there too,” I repeated.
“Yep.”
“And you’re telling me this now.”
“Yep.” A hot wave of tension washed over me. My muscles tightened. Did she truly not see the danger behind this situation? Behindhim?
“I mean, the stalker is probably him, right?” she asked. So, then, she knew the possibilities, but chose to ignore them. “But Christine said he’s a pushover. All talk, no game, something like that.” Her tone changed to a higher pitch, and her words came out quickly: “She said she thinks I should scene with him. You know. Let him beat me up. Because I’m a masochist, and apparently he’s some sort of a sadist, or at least a top, so if we fought it out inside of the dungeon, maybe we—”
“No,” I said. The force of the word cut through Hazel’s rambling.
“No?”
“No.”
The idea that Hazel would put herself in a compromising position, at a time like this, irked me. With a strange man. Someone I couldn’t control.
But I could control myself. I was the only person I trusted to take Hazel through an act as risky as bottoming to a sadist.
“That’s it?” Hazel asked. “No? I don’t get a say in this at all?”
“Until we know who the stalker is,” I said, never mind the rest of it, “we will not risk it.”
“You meanyouwon’t risk it.”
I gripped the steering wheel. Why did she have the itch to fight me every single time? I couldn’t indulge. I drove us towards the apartment without another word. Pleased with having the final say, Hazel didn’t engage either. She put her feet on the dashboard, then glared out the window.
This was why she needed to be independent. She was a mess of contradictions. She refused to listen to anyone, including people who cared about her best interests, and yet she clung onto people whose trustworthiness was yet to be determined. Christine may have been nice, but the fact that she had suggested using the dungeon to work out the problems with Oliver was alarming. Regardless of Christine’s intentions, Hazel needed to be able to defend herself, especially with the stalker lurking out there.
As we parked, Hazel jumped out of the car. “Do I need permission to go to my bedroom too?” she muttered under her breath.
I took a deep breath. It wasn’t about controlling her every move. This was about protecting her.
***
For the rest of the day, we didn’t speak. When I called for takeout, I brought the menu to her room. She circled her order and handed it back to me, closing the door in my face.
What was there to say? Neither of us wanted to be in the situation, and yet we were forced together until she made some sort of progress, and the stalker was no longer an issue.
If it weren’t for the stalker, I could back out on my promise. I was no longer indebted to Zaid, and I had never felt obligated to help his new girlfriend. But I had promised myself that I would protect Hazel. I couldn’t live with myself if I let something happen to her. She had to be independent, able to live on her own, without anyone’s help, and Ihadto help her get there. I would never let her end up like Mom. It was the least I could do.
I left her takeout boxes on the kitchen counter and ate mine at the table. A few minutes later, she emerged from her bedroom and took the boxes back with her. As I watched her climb up the stairs, I wondered if I should tell her about the notes. If I should show them to her. But another idea crossed my mind.
After I cleaned up my meal, I knocked on her door. She threw it open, her turquoise eyes full of rage.
I started to say, ‘come with me,’ but I stopped myself. A demand like that didn’t work with Hazel. She needed coaxing. She needed an actual request. A choice. One that was hers alone.
