Xavier
I drop shrimp into sizzling garlic butter, the pan spitting and hissing. The chaos mirrors the storm inside me-anger at Melanie’s selfishness, carefully hidden for Hazel’s sake. I sip my riesling, keeping my calm facade intact.
When dinner’s ready, I call Hazel and plate the food. Her familiar footsteps on the stairs are comforting, but when I see her, I freeze. For a moment, it’s Melanie-the same bright red hair, slim shoulders, and lean frame. Hazel has grown so much, and for a fleeting second, I almost imagine my wife is back.
I serve the pasta and pour another glass of wine, offering Hazel a smile. She’s so much like Melanie it’s startling. The resemblance is uncanny-her body slim and delicate, yet striking-but her face is softer, her icy blue eyes wide and innocent, free of Melanie’s hardened edge.
Hazel devours the meal like she hasn’t eaten in days, and worry twists in my chest. How could Melanie abandon her own child?
“What did your mom say before she left?” I ask, already knowing the answer won’t bring any comfort.
“She said she was going to New Mexico for the weekend with…” Hazel glances up briefly, “…her new boyfriend. She texted a couple of times but never answers my calls. A few weeks ago, she just said she was staying longer.”
I inhale, gripping my wine glass. “What about money? Did she leave you any?”
She lets out a bitter laugh. “No. And she ignored my texts about it. So… no.”
My hand tightens on the glass, knuckles white, but I take a deep breath to steady myself. “You should have called me, Hazel. You know you can always call me.”
“I know.” Her eyes drop to her plate. “I just didn’t want to tell you she rented out the house. I kept thinking, if I could make it through one more day…”
“She’d come back,” I finish. I know that feeling too well. “But you never have to hide anything from me. I’ll always come through for you. Always.”
She looks up, her blue eyes bright with hope. She’s so quick to trust, so eager to believe. “Yes, Dad. I should’ve called. It was stupid not to. She just kept saying it was over-that I had to forget about you. And that you couldn’t find out about the house.”
The house. Tomorrow’s to-do list grows: find out who’s living there and evict them. And cancel those monthly e-transfers to Melanie. That money clearly isn’t going to Hazel.
That night, I focus on helping Hazel settle in. Five weeks on her own at her age? It infuriates me. I pat her hand and say, “I’m so happy you’re here, sweetheart. I’ll take care of everything. You don’t need to worry.”
The next morning, I sit on her bed and brush her red curls back. Her face is still soft with sleep, her features a blend of her mother and her younger self. She stirs at my touch, mumbling about it being too early.
“Wake up, sweetie,” I murmur, kissing her forehead. She’s missed too much school already.
At breakfast, she’s in her uniform, scarfing down a second bagel. The sight of her plaid skirt and white socks tugs at my heart. “I’ll drive you,” I say when she mentions the bus.
She appears moments later, her uniform altered-skirt too short, blouse tied. My gaze lingers too long, and shame burns through me as I catch myself.
“Hazel,” I say sharply, “that’s not how you wear your uniform.”
With a sigh, she adjusts it. We drive in silence, my thoughts tangled. The Hazel I knew was still a child. This Hazel is different-older, confident, and leaving me unsettled in ways I don’t want to admit.
What else has changed in the past year?
With only Melanie for supervision, Hazel’s been left to fend for herself, and I wonder what trouble she’s gotten into. I’ve always been the strict parent, while Mel let her bend the rules. Now that Hazel’s older, I can’t help but worry.
I glance at her while driving, feeling a mix of love and concern. “I missed you,” I say, my heart heavy with the truth.
“Missed you too,” she replies, hesitating before adding, “Dad.”
I drop her off at school, relieved she’s still attending. “I’ll pick you up at three-thirty.”
She smiles and says, “Thanks for the drive, Xavier,” before teasing, “Thanks for the drive, Daddy.”
“Good girl. Have a good day.”
As she walks away, I drive off, heart full of love and worry. She’s not a child anymore, but it’s hard to see her as a grown woman.
Chapter 4
Hazel
AT 3:29 p. m. on the dot, Xavier’s champagne-coloured Jaguar pulls up out front of the school, as expected. Swiss by birth, and Type A by nature, Xavier is never late.
“Give me a sec,” I say to Kye.
“Sure, babe.” Our high school’s champion point guard and most eligible bachelor gives me a slow, overly-confident smile as I get up from the school steps, like he has no doubt I’ll be running right back to him. Kye Knight does not suffer from low self-esteem.
I open the car door and lean in. “Hey, Xavier-Dad,” I quickly correct myself. “If it’s okay with you, my friend Kye is going to drive me home.”
I’ve known Xavier for so long that I sometimes forget people find him intimidating. Looking at him now in his perfectly tailored suit, leaning back in the cream leather interior of his car and frowning at me, I’m suddenly reminded. He lifts one dark, heavy eyebrow without a hint of a smile on his face, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. “That’s not okay with me.”
“What? Why not?”
“For a few reasons, Hazel. Because I came here to pick you up, because I have no idea who Kye is, and because we need to get home. The social worker will be there in an hour.”
All at once, he really does feel like my dad again. Dear old Dad. We’re right back to old times. My teeth grit against each other as I try to swallow my exasperation.
I love my dad, I remind myself. He came to get me after my mom abandoned me. He cares for and loves me. He wants what’s best for me.
“It’s just a drive home,” I huff, trying not to roll my eyes. I don’t see what difference it makes whether it’s him or Kye that drives me. Either way, it’s the same distance, and Xavier works near here anyway. It’s not like he went out of his way.
He blows out a breath, frowning. “I left the office early to come get you, Hazel. Tell your…friend you’ll see him in class.”
He’s pissed, and I can tell I’m not going to win this argument. I don’t want to fight. I’m still so grateful to Xavier for being there for me. But I can’t hide the irritation in my voice.
“Fine,” I grumble, turning on my heel and leaving the car door wide open just because I know it will irritate him. I stalk over to the school steps and pick up my knapsack.
I try to compose my face before speaking to Kye, embarrassed that he might be witnessing me being treated like a child.
“Sorry, Kye,” I say casually, my cheeks warming. “I forgot I have an appointment my dad needs to take me to.”
“No problem.” He shrugs, letting his eyes wander down my body before lifting them back up to my eyes. “See you tomorrow.”
I press my lips together as I turn back to the car.
Kye Knight. He’s the hottest guy at my school. Right before my mom took off, Kye and I made out at a party, and we texted for a little while after. I can’t blame him for letting the communication drop off-I became unavailable real fast as soon as I started grappling with the fact that I had basically no food or money. But I’d been hoping we could reconnect. His offer to drive me home today was my chance. Now that I’ve turned him down, I’m sure he’ll give up on me.
I get into the car and slam the door shut. I know I should tone down the drama, but I can’t help but feel like my stepfather has completely cock-blocked me.
He pulls away from the curb and drives out of the school grounds without saying anything for a few minutes.
“So who’s Kye?” he finally asks, turning left onto the 99 with one smooth sweep of his well-manicured hand around the steering wheel. It’s a strange thing to notice, but he has nice hands, I think. Well-proportioned and strong-looking, with clean, trim nails, and the giant silver watch he always wears around his wrist.
I’m not sure how to answer, and I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks that I hope he doesn’t notice. “Just a friend,” I say, quietly and unconvincingly. He looks over at me and raises an eyebrow, like he’s not falling for it. “Just someone I…” I falter and shake my head. “I don’t know, Dad. Just a guy.”
“Just a guy, hm?” He fixes his eyes on the road, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And how long has Kye been…just a guy in your life for?”
Yup, okay. Now I am officially embarrassed.