Page 33 of The Woman in the Hollow
“Seems a little off tonight, though,” Dom said, watching her with me.
“How so?” I asked, hating that he knew her and her habits better than I did.
“She’s usually always on the move. Fucking with this, fiddling with that, greeting people, comforting people who got too freaked out. She’s barely moved tonight. Except to say hi to your ma.”
I’d seen that.
My mom, true to form, pulled Hazel in for a big hug, then turned her toward me as she, I imagined, sang my praises.
“Maybe she doesn’t want to overstep on family night,” I said.
“Maybe,” Dom said, shrugging. “Just seems off to me. But I don’t know dick about that kind of thing, so don’t trust me. I’m gonna go pick up the pizzas.”
With that, he was gone and I couldn’t help but make my way over toward the coffee cart, getting two, then approaching Hazel.
“I got—” I started, only for Hazel to let out a shriek as her whole body jolted hard. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
“Sorry. No. I’m just a little jumpy tonight,” she said, looking a little pink in the face at the admission.
“Maybe this isn’t the best idea then,” I said, gesturing with the coffee I’d gotten for her.
“Oh, no. I need that,” she said, snatching it from me like she was afraid I’d rescind the offer.
I watched as she took a long sip, her eyes closed, a little moan escaping her that went right to my dick.
I sucked in a deep breath, reminding myself that my entire family was around.
“It seems like the kids are having fun,” she said, watching the picnic tables full of my nieces, nephews, and their cousins as they did autumnal crafts.
“Completely unaware of the terror they are about to face,” I said, nodding toward where the performers were lingering near the woods. “Better for them to get the scare part over with before the pizza gets here.”
“I can lead them in,” she offered, but she looked a little green at the prospect.
“That’s not necessary. That girl there—what’s her name?—she can take them in.”
“That’s Brit. She’s good at the tours.”
“It’s settled then,” I said, calling Brit over and asking her to get started.
“You’re not going?”
“Been through it,” I said, shrugging as I led her over toward the picnic tables as the kids rushed to line up with their parents.
“You’re going?” I asked my mom as she piled all the crafts into her oversized bag for safekeeping.
“I am.”
“You hate being scared.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said, avoiding eye contact. “I love doing all sorts of things with my grand babies. Hazel, you’ve been on your feet all night. Sit. Rest. Dante, make her rest,” she insisted before literally running off to catch up with the others as Brit led them all away toward the woods.
The two parents hanging around with babies caught a look my mother sent them and both made bullshit excuses about changing diapers and nursing before hustling off to leave the two of us alone.
“They’ve got the subtlety of a car alarm at three in the morning,” I said, shaking my head.
“It’s sweet. They just love you and want to see you happy and settled. If you didn’t want that I guess it would be a different story.”
“I guess you’re right,” I agreed, sitting down next to her.
