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Hazel wins.
My mom warned me she’d blossomed, but she’d failed to mention that she’d turned into a rose bush. Gorgeous, sweetly scented, bursting with beauty, and prickly as fuck. I’m probably bleeding somewhere right now.
“She would sooner spear me with her ten-inch heel than let me get down on one knee in front of her.”
One of two things is sure to come out: competition or unrestrained lust. And God help me if it’s the latter.
And people think I’ve got my shit together. I can’t even ghost correctly.
“Hazel versus Gray. May the best color win!”
His stormy blues have turned into an F4 tornado—it’ll fuck up the barn, but won’t whisk away the family—and I’m trapped in the crosswinds.
“Fuck you, city boy!”
“She’s a peach, isn’t she?”
“No. You’re too weak. And Hazel doesn’t like tomato soup.”
I roll my lips inward to stave off the giggles.
“You want me to tell you how sad I am because pretty boy Bryce thinks he’s such a big man because he’s got you?”
“Please.”
“Or maybe you want to hear about how, every time I see him near you, I have to physically restrain myself from pushing him off the nearest boat?”
“You want to hear about how much I have to jack off in the shower thinking about you? What is it, Hazel?”
“Actually,”
“I would really rather you tell me if you’re going to fucking kiss me or not.”
“You’d like it too much.”
“Am I really wrong about this?”
“No. But you told me to make you lose.”
“I forgot my shoes,” she breathes, and then she heads straight for me.
Fuck, at one time, I wanted her to be my princess.
“That was for lying about your shoes,” I tease.
“I really forgot them,” she insists weakly. “By the front door.”
“Mm-hmm. Even though you never to...
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She dissolves into laughter. “Shut up and ...
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I love Grayson.
“You don’t need anyone to keep the other side of your bed warm?”
“Yeah, I think I do.”
Because there may be no greater act of love from him than willingly coming in second.
“I’ll see you there—I’m going with Hazel.”
I don’t want a pity anything. I want someone invested in my life, and my life is in Bayshore.
Two days. That’s how much I give her. That’s the most I can stand to give her.
His smile stretches wide. “Hate is just love that got all twisted up.”
“I hate you,” I whisper to him. He grins and captures my lips in a kiss. Because he knows what I mean. “I love you too, Hazel,” he whispers back. He’s always known.
My love for Grayson is the biological equivalent of a cockroach. It really doesn’t matter what you do to it—it’s going to survive.
Every time she references Hazel, it’s our. Except Hazel is now mine. I won’t share her. Not even with my mom.
“You asked our Hazel to move away from Bayshore?”
“Are you capable of calling her just Hazel? And yes, I did.”
“Grayson Thomas Daly. What the hell is wr...
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“We want to be together,” I say slowly, succinctly, “but it won’t work unless she comes to New York. I have my job there. She can bring hers with her. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“Like it’s so easy to pick up a thriving business and restart it elsewhere?” Mom scoffs again. “I tell you what. Sometimes, the denseness of men is astounding.”
And goddammit, that spreadsheet was moving. Like a practiced symphony.
People get unhappy about what they sacrificed, and it drives them apart.”
“I don’t know why I would join you in a place that doesn’t make you happy.”
“Hazel,” he says, stepping closer. “We need to be together. We’re fucking—” He draws a terse breath. “We’re fucking soul mates. You know that, right?”
“But don’t worry. I’ll be in love with you forever, so you can at least rest easy that you’ve ruined my love life.”
“I started the business you said I should invest in. Because if Brooklyn doesn’t work for you, then maybe Bayshore will work for me.”
