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“Yeah. Saw him up close and personal with his new fuck bunny.” Her nose scrunches as if she’s smelled something foul. “Fun times.”
“Hazel,” I try again.
“My mom was right. He’s definitely dating someone who’s half his age––”
“Haz––”
“Which I should’ve expected, honestly. He’s never exactly been father of the year, so––”
“Hazel,” I snap, but she continues barrelling over me.
“Who would’ve thought it’d be with a girl from my work? A girl who, from what I assumed, was my actual friend, ya know? Like what the fuck?” She laughs, shaking her head back and forth as if caught between denial, frustration, and absolute disgust.
The strap slips from my shoulder, and my purse clatters to the ground, but I don’t reach for it. I don’t move. I just stare at her. Hazel. Because the girl doesn’t look pissed. I mean, she does, but underneath all the hatred and contempt is hurt.
She’s hurting.
And it’s all because of me.
“I didn’t know he was your dad,” I whisper. “Not in the beginning.”
She laughs again, shaking her head. “Because that makes it better.”
“I’m serious, Hazel. I didn’t know, and neither did Mack––”
“Don’t say his name.” Her bright blue gaze shines with fury. It’s the first time she’s ever looked like him. I’ve never seen Mack truly mad in the first place, but the color? The way it gleams? The passion? The hint of stubbornness? The hurt? Yeah. Those are all too familiar, especially after last night and how much he was hurting when she ghosted him.
“What do you have against him?” I demand, her resemblance causing a spark of protectiveness inside of me. “He’s sweet and thoughtful. He’s always looking out for others and goes out of his way to help people. Why do you hate him so much?”
“I don’t hate him.”
“Then, why don’t you talk to him? Why do you ignore his texts? And I'm not only talking about last night. I’m talking about in general.”
Her upper lip curls in disgust. “Don’t act like you know anything about me or my relationship with my dad.”
“What relationship?” I push. “Because all I’ve seen is him reaching out to you. Wanting to connect with you. To get to know you again. And yet he’s never gotten anything in return.”
“Shut up,” she warns.
But I don’t. Because I want to know. I want to know why she’s so hard on him yet so accepting of her mom and all the lies she’s been told.
“Tell me, Haz––”
“I saidstop,” she spits, her pitch rising until I can feel the people around us staring. Eavesdropping.
“Okay.” I lift my hands in the air and take a step back. “I’ll stop. But you need to give him a chance to explain himself.”
“Why? So he can tell me how great it is to date someone his daughter’s age?” Her upper lip curls again as her gaze rolls over me. “Do you have any idea how disgusting it is?”
I bite my tongue and keep myself from pointing out we aren’t exactly the same age. She’s barely eighteen. I’m twenty-five. Her dad is thirty-four. Admittedly, it’s a decent age gap between us, but it’s not like I went to high school with Hazel or anything. I didn’t know they were related until after we’d started hanging out. It’s only a coincidence. A shitty one, but still. We’re both consenting adults, and I love him.
My breath hitches.
I love him.
I love Macklin Taylor.
“What? Nothing to say?” she grits out.
