Page 45 of Rise
Her thigh throbbed. The blood had soaked through her sweatpants, a blooming stain she could feel sticking to her skin. Each drop that trickled down her skin sent a sharper jolt through her nerves. And she was sotired.Of storms. Of silence. Of doing this alone.
She reached into the pocket of her sweatpants and pulled out her phone, relieved that she hadn’t lost it in the fall. It felt heavy in her hand.
She stared at the screen, her thumb hovering, mind working.
A sharp ache bloomed in her chest. The kind of ache that made her wish she were someone else— someone who could dial a parent or a sibling without hesitation. Who could saysomething happenedand be met with comfort instead of distance. But that wasn’t her life. It never had been.
Even now, she didn’t think of her father, not really. Not as the person who would come.
But someonedidcome to mind.
Beck.
She exhaled, sharp and fast, and tapped into her contacts before she could think too hard. She scrolled until she landed on his name and pressedcall.The music she’d set to play earlier cut out in the middle of a sharp crescendo of violins. Her eyes pressed shut, anxiety clawing at the back of her throat with a wicked sort of strength.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please pick up.”
Outside, the storm howled like it had teeth.
The phone rang once, then again.
Hazel stood frozen in the narrow wash of light spilling from the hallway into the bathroom. The cold porcelain edge of the sink pressed against one palm, grounding her just enough to stay upright. Each beat of silence between rings stretched longer than it should have, until her heart began to count them like footfalls echoing down an empty path. Her leg throbbed with a slow, insistent ache.
She almost ended the call.
Her thumb hovered over the red icon, aching to vanish, aching to tell herself it wasn’t that bad, that she didn’t need anyone, that she was fine.
But she didn’t press it. She couldn’t.
“Hello?”
His voice cut through the storm and straight into her chest.
Just one word, not loud and not clipped, just steady. As it always was. Low and rough around the edges from disuse, like it came from deep in his throat. She could hear the undercurrent in it, that cautious thread of concern braided into the word, like someone who didn’t get a lot of calls and had learned that most unexpected ones didn’t bring anything good.
Hazel’s mouth opened but no sound came. Her throat felt thick. She hadn’t planned what she would say, hadn’t expected him to pick up, not really. She hadn’t let herself get that far.
She turned away from the mirror, the phone burning warm against her ear.
“It’s me,” she said finally, voice thin and breathless. “Hazel.”
There was a pause on the other end, just long enough for her heartbeat to fill the silence like a drum.
Then he said it back, like he was trying to confirm what he’d heard. Like he couldn’t quite believe it. “Hazel.”
And something in her stilled, like a shaken jar settling quiet again.
He didn’t rush her, didn’t demand to know why she was calling. He just said her name like he meant it… like it was the most important thing he could offer her in that moment.
She breathed through her nose, slow and shallow, and tried to find words. “I didn’t mean to— I know it’s late,” she started, stumbling. “I just... something happened. I’m okay, but—“
“Tell me,” Beck cut in, quiet and calm.
His voice was different, now. There was a shift within him, and though it was small, she could sense it instantly.
Hazel gripped the edge of the sink tighter and cleared her throat. “A tree came down out front. I was outside when it happened. I heard something, so I went to check, and I didn’t see it coming. I got out of the way, mostly. The porch took the worst of it.”
She hesitated, eyes pressing shut.
