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She opened my door and left.
The door slammed behind her.
I ran to the door and thought about chasing her down.
Instead, I punched the door.
That sent a fresh surge of pain through my already sore right hand.
I grabbed a coffee mug and poured a cup of coffee.
Then I added some whiskey.
As though caffeine mixed with alcohol was going to help what just happened and how I was really starting to feel about Hazel.
Chapter Eighteen
HAZEL
I grabbedthe heavy duty trash bag and began to pull.
The bag didn’t want to move.
I gritted my teeth and pulled hard.
This stupid damn trash bag was not going to win this fight.
Not even close.
The bag moved an inch or two and then stopped.
So I pulled even harder.
I let out a groaning cry as though I were a warrior on a battlefield…
Or a woman in labor giving that last push before birth.
I released my hold on the trash bag and stumbled back.
“Holy crap, Hazel, take it easy,” a voice said behind me.
Hands touched my back to make sure I didn’t fall.
I gasped for a breath.
The hands touching me were small. Way too small.
They were Hannah’s hands.
Not the hands I wanted to touch me.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I’ve got to get this trash bag out of here right now.”
“What’s it full of? Toxic waste?”
I turned around. “I’m cleaning the fucking house, Hannah. Okay?”
“Oh, wow, you’re going to chew my head off now? Hormones? Or that other thing annoying you?”
