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The moment we made it to the house, Hazel was coming to, and I hurriedly tossed her into the shower and ran cold water over her body. The sensation of the chill woke her up quickly as she squeaked in horror.
“Oh my gosh, that’s cold!” she cried out, shivering from the ice droplets hitting her body. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms as she sat in the tub.
“Good,” I grumbled. “I told you it was too damn hot to be out there in that sun.”
She reached forward to shut off the water and shivered. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not. You need some electrolytes to recover from the heat. I have some sports drinks in the fridge. Here’s a towel to dry off.” I grabbed the closest one on the hook and held it out to her. She quickly began wiping the water from her face, and with the water went her makeup.
“What the fuck happened to your face?” I barked out, horrified by the bruises that were revealed as she removed the makeup.
Her eyes widened, and she turned away from me. “It’s nothing.”
I placed my hands on her shoulders and turned her back to face me. “Bullshit. That’s not nothing. It looks like someone fucking punched you in the damn face.”
The way her eyes watered made me realize that was exactly what had happened.
Holy shit.
Someone had punched her in the damn face.
“Who did this to you?” I asked, my voice tight with anger. I didn’t even know who the hell I was mad at, but I was pissed. “Was it a man?”
She nodded slowly.
“Tell me who,” I ordered.
The tears began falling faster than ever down her cheeks as she shook her head back and forth. “It’s okay. I’m figuring it out.” She went to get to her feet and stumbled a bit, still off balance, and I caught her in my arms. She gave me a broken smile. “You’re good at that.”
“At what?”
“Catching me.”
“Well, it would be best if you’d stop falling.”
“Trust me”—she released a weighted breath—“I’m trying.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, because it sounded so damn heartbreaking. I wanted sarcastic and rude Hazel Stone back. The sad one made me want to cry right alongside her.
“What can I do for you?” I asked, my voice cracking as I stared at her swollen eye. What kind of asshole laid his hands on a woman? What type of weak bastard would do such a fucked-up thing? I knew who—my father. I remembered watching him attack my mother in his drunken rage when I was a kid. I remembered Mom’s bruises and how she’d tried to hide them with makeup—the same way Hazel had done.
I wanted to kill him.
I didn’t even know who he was, but I wanted blood.
Hazel tried her best to keep smiling through her pain. “Well, first, sports drink,” she said. “And then tonight, vodka.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Aren’t you too young to be drinking?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “But I had a pretty bad day.”
Well, okay then.
Vodka it was.Afterthe sports drink.
If there was an award for the world’s biggest lightweight, it would go to Hazel. She’d taken three shots under my watch, along with a mixed drink, and was dancing around in circles in the living room. She hummed a tune that I couldn’t quite place, but somehow it sounded perfect.
“Why don’t you drink too?” she asked me, raising an eyebrow as she plopped down on the sofa.
