Chapter Two (Hazel)

Chapter Two (Hazel)

It was past one in the morning when Sebastian came home.

He opened the apartment door, saw me standing in the entryway with two suitcases at my feet, and his brows snapped together.

"Where do you think you're going?"

I didn't answer. I bent down to pull up the suitcase handle.

He crossed the room in one stride, grabbed my wrist, and pinned me against the wall.

He smelled of alcohol, and faintly of a perfume that wasn't mine.

"Still throwing a tantrum?" He looked down at me, his voice low. "Hazel, Grant and Brooke told me a long time ago. You're the easiest person in the world to fool. Two months of playing along, and you believed every word."

"Who's this little act for now?"

His grip on my wrist hurt so much it felt like the bone might crack.

I lifted my head and looked straight at him. My eyes burned, but not a single tear fell.

"Sebastian, we're done."

The last trace of amusement in his eyes vanished.

"Done?" He scoffed, and his grip tightened even more. "You think it's over just because you say so?"

I fought to pull free. "Let go of me!"

Just then, the door opened.

Grant and Brooke stood in the doorway, each holding two big grocery bags.

When Grant saw what was happening, his face darkened.

Brooke dramatically covered her eyes and peeked through her fingers. "Oh my, you two are this kinky in private? That's even wilder than Hazel and Grant back in the day."

"That's enough," Grant said coldly. "You've taken it too far."

Only then did Sebastian let go. He stepped back and casually straightened his cuffs as if nothing had happened.

All three of them turned to look at me.

My hand was still shaking. I hid it behind my back and pressed it still, bit by bit. Then I bent again to pick up the suitcase.

Grant walked over and put a hand on the handle.

"Brooke was worried about you. She bought all this stuff so she could make you your favorite, fondue." His tone left no room for argument. "Sit down. Have dinner. Stop making a scene."

"Grant." I looked at him. "We broke up two years ago. What gives you the right to tell me what to do?"

Something dark crossed his face for a moment. Then he smiled again, as if he'd remembered something funny.

"Come on. Twenty years. Is there a side of you I haven't seen? Stop pretending."

He took me by the arm and sat me down at the dining table.

•   *   *

A copper pot sat in the middle of the table, its burner roaring. It was filled to the brim with boiling oil, small bubbles rising and popping.

Brooke said it was called fondue bourguignonne. You skewered raw beef on long forks and dipped it in, and it was cooked in seconds.

She'd set a ring of dipping sauces around the pot.

Satay sauce. Spicy peanut sauce. Sesame paste mixed with crushed peanuts.

I looked at the little dishes one by one, and slowly put down my fork.

I have a severe peanut allergy. When I was fourteen, at the Calloways' Christmas party, I accidentally ate a peanut cookie. My throat swelled so badly I couldn't breathe, and an ambulance had to take me away.

That night, Grant sat outside the ER until morning.

Now he sat across from me, placing the most tender pieces of beef, one by one, onto Brooke's plate.

Sebastian sat on her other side, peeling shrimp for her.

All that was left for me was a small piece of bread on the edge of the table that nobody had touched.

When I didn't move, Grant frowned.

"What now?" He set down his fork, irritated. "We're all trying to have a nice dinner. Can you not make that face?"

The other two looked at me too.

The same expression on all three faces. Exasperation, and a disgust they couldn't quite hide.

All these years, I'd thought it was my fault. That I wasn't good enough, and that was why I always ruined their fun.

So every time, I'd force a smile, eat that piece of bread, and say, "It's fine."

This time, I didn't want to.

I picked up my empty plate, stood, and dropped it into the kitchen trash.

"Enjoy your dinner."

Brooke froze for a second. Then the tears came instantly.

"Hazel, I picked all of this out based on what you like... Are you still mad at me?"

Still crying, she slid the diamond ring off her finger and held it out to me.

"I'll give the ring back to you, okay? Please don't be mad."

Before I could say anything, Sebastian's face went cold.

"Hazel, what do you have to feel sorry for yourself about? If Brooke hadn't asked me to keep you company, I wouldn't have looked at you twice."

Grant's voice was heavy too. "Two years ago, Brooke was the one who told me not to push you, to let you calm down on your own. She's always been looking out for you. Don't be so ungrateful."

I didn't say another word. I turned to get my suitcase by the door.

Suddenly Brooke lunged at me and grabbed my hand.

"Hazel, take the ring!"

She tried to force it onto my finger. I shook her off hard.

The next second, she let herself fall backward and slammed into the table.

The copper pot tipped over.

Most of the boiling oil poured across my side and down my back.

For an instant, I didn't even feel pain. I only heard a small, sizzling sound, like something on me was cooking.

Then the pain came, crashing over me like a wave.

My vision went black. I only stayed on my feet because I caught the wall.

Brooke had gotten two drops on the back of her hand. She was the first one to scream.

"Ow! It hurts! My hand!"

Grant and Sebastian rushed to her side at the same time.

Grant cradled her hand. When he turned to look at me, his eyes were full of anger.

"Hazel, can you really not stand having her around?"

I clenched my teeth. My voice was shaking. "I didn't push her."

"We both saw it," Sebastian said coldly. "You're still going to deny it?"

Grant scooped Brooke up into his arms and headed for the door.

"We'll settle this when I get back."

The door slammed.

All that was left in the room was me, oil all over the floor, and the copper pot, still smoking.

•   *   *

I called a car myself and went to the ER at New York Hospital.

The doctor on duty peeled back my oil-soaked dress and sucked in a breath.

"Extensive second-degree burns." She had a nurse start prepping to irrigate the wounds while she looked at me. "Why did you come here alone? Another half hour and you could have gone into shock."

I didn't answer.

By the time they'd finished treating the burns, it was four in the morning.

I held onto the wall and made my way toward the elevator one step at a time. My waist and back were wrapped in bandages. Every step felt like the wounds were being torn open again.

Passing the VIP rooms on the twelfth floor, I stopped.

Warm yellow light glowed through the window in one of the doors.

Brooke was propped up in bed, a small square of gauze on the back of her hand. Grant sat on the edge of the bed, feeding her water one spoonful at a time. Sebastian was bent over, tucking the blanket in around her.

She said something with a smile, and both men laughed.

I stood in the cold light of the hallway, watching them through the glass, shivering all over.

I used to think both of them had really loved me once.

But one of them was so sure I'd never leave that he'd never been afraid of losing me.

The other had been acting from day one, and the heart I'd offered him was just a punchline.

•   *   *

After the sun came up, I went to Calloway Group's headquarters.

I'd worked there for six years. I'd chased down every client and pulled every all-nighter on every funding round for Grant. Today, I was there to resign.

The HR director paged through my file, her expression growing stranger and stranger.

"Ms. Whitmore," she said, turning her monitor toward me, "the shares in your name... three months ago, they were transferred to Ms. Brooke Ellis."

I stared at that line on the screen for a long time.

On the signature line of the transfer authorization was my name.

But it wasn't my handwriting.