Page 22 of Take Me Home

The kitchen doors banged open, and a flashlight beam cut through the darkness. “Don’t you dare dine and ditch,” Emeline warned, her ghostly lit figure appearing behind Hazel. “Cash only.”

Ash pulled more than enough from his wallet. “Keep the change.”

Hazel was rewrapping her red scarf around her neck, scooting to the end of the booth, that invisible line between them neatly severed.

Just as well. Whatever had sparked was probably best to quell before they made it back to that nightmare of a room.

Hazel pushed out into the dark night but immediately spun back into his chest, knocking him back on his heels. His arm instinctively wrapped around her. As soon as he had a hold on her, though, she took a big side step, saying, “Sorry. Jesus, it’s cold,” and huddling into herself, giving him space he did not want. And just like that, all logic about being sensible, about not feeding into the electricity between them, went fuzzy.

“Hazel.” He held his arm back out to her, chest tight from the cold and the possibility that she’d refuse him. “Come on. I’ll be your human windshield.”

Wind whipped her ponytail across her face. She smoothed it back with both hands, holding it there while she deliberated. Already, her teeth were chattering. She sniffed, nodded once, and ducked neatly under his arm.

Chapter

Five

She’d said too much. Way too much. Her old house? Her parents’ divorce?Pug Boy? What was wrong with her?

And what was up with all of Ash’s probing questions, that almost commanding way he’d insisted,Tell me, like her life story was some high-stakes thriller he couldn’t put down? She hadn’t even told Sylvia some of it, hadn’t wanted her to feel sorry about Hazel going to bars alone or feeling overwhelmed in her program. But two minutes of Ash’s undivided attention, and a river had rushed forth—one she’d dammed up for too long, apparently.

Hazel felt like a puzzle all mixed up in the box. She needed to regroup. She’d hoped to escape into a nice, long shower, but the power was out at the inn as well. The bird man at reception didn’t expect it to be restored any time soon. There was a reason Hazel’s father said ice was a bigger headache than snow. It made roads dangerous, but it also coated power lines, froze pipes, weighed down tree branches until they snapped, left vulnerable people stranded, sometimes for days. God, what if she and Ash got stuck here longer than one night? Already, cold seeped into the old Victorian.

They stood on opposite sides of the Lovebird Suite, both retreating into their phones in resolute avoidance. Sylvia had texted again, asking if Hazel had decided to go to her dad’s, or ifshe wanted to crash another Delgado family Christmas. It was said in jest—crash, an intrusion—and Hazel knew Sylvia’s gaggle of relatives would welcome her warmly, just as they had the last three Christmases, but the reminder that she wasn’t actually part of Sylvia’s family, that for two years Sylvia’s grandmother had thought Hazel was anorphan, made her close her messages without replying. She’d been doing that more and more lately.

She switched on her phone’s flashlight, intending to locate her bags, and the beam lit up the comforterless bed. Ash was planning to sleep on the floor, leaving her with that flimsy, lightweight blanket. That wouldn’t work now.

He followed the beam of light. She could already see his breath in the air when he said, “Yeah, I know.”

While Ash remade the bed, Hazel quietly panicked. They were going to sleep there.Together.

“The Office,” she blurted. “I downloaded all the Christmas episodes just in case.”

“Just in case…what?”

At the time, she’d anticipated being trapped in her father’s unfamiliar house with unfamiliar people, hiding out in a guest bedroom. What if their Wi-Fi was spotty? She neededsomethingto pass the time. She was pleased with herself for such smart preparation until she remembered: no power, shitty laptop battery. “Never mind. My computer won’t make it through one episode.”

“I have a portable—” He cut off abruptly. She could hear the soles of his shoes slide across the low carpet, his knuckles pop.

“A portable what?”

“Um…charger.”

“Wait, you have—”

“I know,” he said defensively. “I have a portable charger, so Idon’t need the outlet by your precious chair. But just think, because of me, we can watch those Christmas episodes, so really, you should thank—”

“Then why do you even need the chair?”

“I never said I needed it. Ilikeit. I can see everyone when they come in. I can hear all the conversations from the counter to the back windows. It’s the perfect spot.”

Her flashlight was still on, lighting up a patch of the bird carpet, and she turned it on him. “So, it has nothing to do with the chair or the outlet? You just like to eavesdrop?”

He threw an arm up to block the light, and she lowered her phone. She couldn’t see him well in the dark, but the general shape of him looked sheepish. Good. He remained quiet as he rummaged through his bag for the charger.

They scooted up against the headboard with her laptop between their legs. Halfway into the first episode, Hazel began to shiver, compounding the ache in her lower back from sitting in the car all afternoon. She adjusted her pillow, but it didn’t help.

Ash raised his arm like he was going to put it around her. “You can—”

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