Page 56 of Rise
He turned then, leaning one hand against the edge of the counter, fingers curling around it.
“I’ve slept in worse places,” he said, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “And the couch is just fine. You need the door that closes. Locks.”
A frown tugged at the edges of Hazel’s lips and furrowed across her forehead. “I don’t need a lock. I trust you.”
“I know,” he replied, his gaze remaining on hers. “But still.”
Hazel’s lips parted, prepared to push back on his offer further, but Beck let out a low sigh. She paused, watching his expression as it softened.
“Please, Hazel.”
Her name landed soft and sure in the room. Not tender, not coaxing, just anchored— like a line cast out from solid ground.
She looked at him for a moment longer, searching for a reason to argue with him, to say she was fine, that she didn’t need this. But her chest was already aching from the weight of what he was offering without making her ask.
So instead of fighting, she nodded. “Okay.”
Beck let out a quiet breath and pushed off the counter.
“Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you where you’re going.”
He passed her as he headed down the hall, and for a second—justa second— the scent of him brushed against her skin: cleanrain, warm flannel, and cedar pressed into skin. She followed after a beat, but not before toeing off her boots and nudging them into place beside his sneakers on the shoe rack. The gesture was instinctive, domestic, and it made her stomach tighten for reasons she didn’t fully understand.
As she padded down the short hallway in her socks, Beck reached back into the living room, grabbing her bag with one hand. He didn’t ask if she wanted help. He just took it, one more thing off her shoulders and onto his.
The bedroom was dark until he flipped the switch.
Warm light spilled out over the space, golden and soft from the dimmable lamp tucked behind a wide, rounded chair in the corner. Hazel stepped over the threshold behind him, her eyes sweeping the room like she was seeing inside a part of him she hadn’t been meant to witness.
The bed was a queen, large enough to stretch out in, but not extravagant. The frame was dark wood, clean-lined, and solid. One corner of the navy comforter was slightly rumpled, like he hadn’t bothered to smooth it fully before leaving earlier that morning, but it was made, which was more than Hazel could say of her own bed most days.
Along one wall, a long dresser sat tucked between two windows. And next to it, pressed up against the far corner, was the rounded chair and matching foot stool. The chair was oversized, the kind meant to be curled into. A forest green sweatshirt was draped over one of the arms, sleeves limp, the collar stretched slightly like it had been tugged off in a hurry.
She couldseehim there. Sitting with one leg stretched out, the other tucked under, a book in one hand and the other behind his head. Reading in that quiet way he seemed to exist in— low, still, and unbothered by the world rushing outside his door.
Her chest pulled tight again.
It was intimate, standing here.
Not because anything romantic had happened, but because somethingrealhad. This was his space, his private world. And he’d let her in like it was nothing, like it wasn’t a threshold most people never crossed.
Beck crossed the room and opened the closet, reaching to the top shelf for a folded towel. He handed it to her with one hand, and then set her bag at the end of the bed.
“There’s more in the hall closet if you need another,” he offered, his eyes drawn in the direction of the door. “Blankets, too.”
“Thanks.”
He nodded once. Not curt, just Beck. Then he paused, glanced around the room as if checking that it was enough, that she’d be comfortable, that this was okay.
“I’ll bring your tea down in a minute.”
Hazel nodded, unable to trust her voice with the weight of his space and his kindness curling all around her.
And then he stepped past her, brushing her shoulder lightly as he went. He didn’t look back.
She stood there long after he was gone, her hands still clutching the towel like it anchored her in place.
The room wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t designed for guests.
