Page 5 of Take Me Home

“You took a call in a public place.”

He slid his phone onto the counter in front of her. It was open to a popular forum for alumni and current students. He’d asked for a ride to or near Lockett Prairie for the holidays. The responses ranged fromWhere?to the observation that he should have asked before most students left town. The comment he pointed at said,Who the hell wants to go to Lockett Prairie for anything?

Hazel could relate to that one.

“I posted on Craigslist, too.”

She snorted. “Hoping to get murdered for Christmas?”

He gave her a tight smile and pulled his phone back. “Don’t really have any other options.”

If Cami were still here, she’d be telepathically nudging Hazel from the kitchen.

“You could rent a car. Or take a bus?”

“Nah, I’m strapped. I still have to buy most of my Christmas gifts, and with my dad—” He stopped himself, cleared his throat. “Not your problem. I’ll figure something out.” He didn’t meet her eyes when he said this. Then he disappeared without another word into the kitchen.

Not her problem. He’d said it himself.

But watching Ash experience frustration didn’t bring her the pleasure she might have thought. He’d looked so downcast. Also, there was a compulsive little part of her that desperately wanted to solve problems for people, to make things perfect, toplease. Even apparently,confusingly, to please Ash Campbell. And that part was already weighing what it would take to give him a ride.

No matter how she turned it over, it would surely be a shit show for them both. And the timing didn’t work. He’d said on the phone he’d planned to leave tomorrow, whereas Hazel could conceivably delay her departure for six more days, just soon enough to arrive the night before her father’s Christmas Eve wedding. She needed those days to figuratively sage her life and plan for a smoother spring semester.

And anyway, contorting herself to accommodate everyone else this fall had only earned her extra stress. She needed to strengthen her backbone, not bend it again, even if that made her feel selfish.

Besides,thiswasn’t her problem.

When Ash returned from the kitchen, he busied himself wiping tables and tidying the café. The late evening crowd filtered in, and other than drumming his fingers over his phone in his pocket, clearly itching to check his leads, he didn’t rush anyone through their usual small talk. She negotiated with the pushy voice inside of her—if he asked about her plans at all, she’d be honest, see if he was desperate enough to angle for a ride.

But he didn’t bring it up again, and finally, despite a gnawing, unresolved feeling, she left.

—

Later that night, Netflix asked in its judgy way if she was still watching, alone, in her sad apartment. She’d intended to eat awell-balanced meal, wash her hair after way too many days of dry shampoo, and tackle the mountain of dirty clothes overfilling the hamper, but here she was again with a microwave burrito, rewatchingSchitt’s Creek. She didn’t need Netflix’s sass about it.

As she clickedYes, Hazel received two text messages.

The first was a picture of a massive ice cream sundae. Sylvia’s accompanying message said,Congrats on finishing your first semester, smarty! Dave thinks it’s a stretch for me to eat a sundae for your accomplishment, but I say teamwork makes the dream work! Hope you already had yours.

The second text came so soon after, Hazel didn’t flip her phone over right away, assuming it was some other shot of Sylvia’s boyfriend eating one of his weird, organic yogurts in protest, like all the other times they’d indulged in their post-finals ritual the last few years. But curiosity won out.

And her regret was instant. The text was from her father.If you’re coming tomorrow, you’ll want to leave in the AM. Expecting a big PM storm. Otherwise, best to wait a day.

Tomorrow?Hazel groaned. She’d put off giving him her arrival date because she knew it would seem like she wanted to spend the least possible amount of time there. And yeah, that wastrue, but she hadn’t wanted to voice it, to endure his long, disappointed silence or, worse, lie about some obligation keeping her at school. But now, because she’d put off that uncomfortable conversation, he had apparently decided for her, expected her to wake up early the very next morning, withoutone dayto decompress after finals, and drive across the state. She’d for sure be using the excuse of that storm to push it back, but still.

She tossed her phone into the blankets with another long groan.

But soon enough, her frustration faded. It was almost a reliefto have it decided, to not have to tiptoe her way through the minefield of proposing a last-minute arrival. A relief, too, that her father was so unaware of her reluctance to come. If she was going to spend a week with his new family and watch him get married and experience the whole ordeal of Christmas, the last thing she wanted to add to the mix was unnecessary baggage. It was going to be awkward enough as it was.

Nope, his utter obliviousness meant at least she could smile and get through it, then get back to planning her fresh start next semester, when she would learn to assert herself, to solve her own problems, to sayno. After this one last yes.

Chapter

Two

The Student Center wasn’tentirelyvacant. A custodian buffed the wide hallway floor. A lone student played something mournful on the piano. But even at the early hour, it didn’t bode well that Ash could hear the squeak of his shoes on the linoleum all the way to the rideshare board. Everyone had left town already.

The cork map of the state, where people needing rides or offering them pinned their contact information, had probably last been used in earnest at the turn of the century. Ash had often wondered who still thought this a relevant system in a world with social media and a feature in the university’s transportation app for this exact same purpose. But after exhausting all those options himself and coming up with nothing more concrete than a moving truck driver’s sketchy response on Craigslist—Might could swing through to grab ya, if you’re not too pansy assed to get your hands dirty—he’d prayed to find a note on this board anywhere in the vicinity of Midland, the closest major city to home.

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