by Liz Isaacson
“Maybe I should.” Hazel wanted to, but she had no idea what to say. She didn’t want to resent him because he was busy chasing his dream. She couldn’t expect him to give them up just because she felt neglected.
But that wasn’t it at all, and she knew it. No, the reason Dylan’s dedication to the new ranch, his new life, was because it reminded her all too much of her relationship with Peter. His dreams always came before hers. His needs superseded hers. He walked away when he wanted. Came home when he wanted. Did whatever he wanted.
And she’d been down that path before, and she didn’t need to have a redo. No, sirree.
So it had been easier to end things with him before he ripped her heart out and squeezed the life from it, all while she waited and watched, a willing participant.
Most days, she was proud she’d taken the initiative to break up with him. But some days, she simply wanted to drive out to his new ranch and beg him to take her back.
“Should we order in?” McKayla asked. “Wang’s delivers now.”
“You’re not going to meet Jason?”
“Oh, sure. Later, at the ice cream shop.”
Of course she was. She had a boyfriend who owned a busy business and still had time for her. Hazel swallowed the bitterness and managed to say, “All right. Yeah, let’s order in,” without giving away how she really felt.
Hazel did not call Dylan back. He hadn’t asked her to, and she didn’t know what to say to him anyway. At times, her desperation to drive out to his new ranch and see how things were going nearly choked her. Other times, she made it through several appointments without thinking about him at all. She wasn’t sure which she liked better.
A week passed, and she went to church on Sunday. She hadn’t seen Dylan in the two weeks since she’d broken up with him, and though she scanned every face beneath a cowboy hat, she couldn’t find him today either.
She sat on the end of the bench, on the back left side of the church, almost in the shadows from the balcony above. For some reason, she didn’t want to sit next to Jason and McKayla and bask in all their lovey-dovey glow. Maybe that made her a bad person. Maybe she was just employing some self-preservation. No matter what, she enjoyed the sermon much better when she wasn’t tasting the jealousy on her tongue.
Pastor Gifford spoke about taking time each day to enjoy God’s goodness. Hazel wasn’t sure when the last time she’d done such a thing.
“Even something as simple as the rose bush in your backyard,” the minister said. “Can give you a moment to remember the Lord and all He’s done for you.”
Hazel determined to find something simple like a rose bush, the way her dogs greeted her each day, or the rising of the sun to help remind her of the Lord. Every day. Just something little.
The meeting ended, and she hurried out the door and into the bright sunlight before she had to talk to anyone. Her phone rang just as she pulled out of the parking lot, and she swiped on the call from her mother.
“Mom,” she said. “How are you?”
“Good enough. Didn’t hear from you last week.” No accusation rode in the words. Just concern. Hazel usually initiated the calls, and her mom had obviously called today in case Hazel wouldn’t.
“Yeah, I was….” Hazel couldn’t finish the sentence. She certainly wasn’t busy, though she had visited the big tent events just outside of town and done a few haircuts as demos, handed out hundreds of business cards.
“How’s the salon going?”
“Good.” Hazel turned left and drove away from downtown. “Great. I got about six new clients last week from the demos I did at the swap meet last weekend.”
“Six new clients? That’s fantastic, sweetie.” Her mom meant it too. She didn’t have a malicious bone in her body. “So you’re staying busy.”
“Definitely.” Hazel’s street came into view, but she didn’t slow down. If she kept going, she could take the next right and head north, toward the turnoff that would take her out to Grape Seed and Triple Towers.
Her mom started talking about Evan and the woman he’d just asked to marry him. Her joy came through in every word, and Hazel passed her street and made the right turn. It was only a matter of minutes before her mom asked her about Dylan. She’d managed to avoid telling anyone past McKayla and Jason about the breakup. Even her boss and friends at work just thought she’d quit to start her salon back up.
Which, of course, was why she’d quit. Dylan had nothing to do with that decision, though he probably was the catalyst for Hazel to really consider what made her happy. She’d always had a measure of bravery—at least she had until the disastrous relationship with Peter.
“So how are you and Dylan?” her mom asked. “Things got serious fast. Might there be another wedding this year?”
Hazel snorted, the ridiculousness of the question making her head pound. “No, Mom. I, well, Dylan is really busy with his new ranch.”
“So he ended up buying it?”
“Yep.” Maybe if she gave simple answers, her mom would get the hint and go back to talking about the rest of the family.
“How is it?”
Hazel looked down the road that would lead her back to him, but she didn’t turn. “I don’t really know, Mom. We broke up.”
A gasp came through the line, and Hazel closed her eyes in a long blink though she was still driving. Pulling over, she said, “It’s not a big deal, Mom. We’d been dating for a few weeks. That’s it.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, though her heart recoiled at the statement. “He wasn’t Peter.”
“What does that mean?”
Hazel gazed down the long stretch of road, the brown, wild grasses waving along the side for the road. “It means, Mom, that I hadn’t invested everything in him. I’m okay.”
“You seemed to like him.”
“I did like him.” She leaned her head against the glass, once again wondering if she’d been foolish when she’d broken up with Dylan. But he hadn’t seemed to have time for her, and she just couldn’t repeat the same mistakes she’d made with Peter.
“So what’s stopping you two from being together?”
Ah, that was the question of the year, wasn’t it? Hazel couldn’t answer it, but she had to remember how she’d felt in the few weeks when Dylan was too busy to see her. His texts had decreased, and she’d had to hear from Austin when they were moving.
Everyone gets busy, she told herself. But she’d felt like he’d abandoned her just because a ranch had come along. And Peter had done the same thing, and Hazel just couldn’t go through a similar situation again.
“I don’t know, Mom.”
“Think about it.”
“I will.” Hazel listened to her mom talk about how her dad’s cholesterol had gone up since his last blood test and how he wouldn’t give up hiding Snickers bars in various drawers around the house.
She laughed, and she told her mom she loved her, and the call ended. Hazel still sat on the side of the road, the question what’s stopping you from being together? running through her mind.
Her phone vibrated, and she glanced at it, realizing that she’d missed a call while she’d been on the call with her mom.
A call from Dylan.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dylan left another message for Hazel, this time adding, “We’re just hanging around today, if you wanted to come out. I’ll come pick you up.”
He pressed his eyes closed and wished he could delete the words. Delete the voice mail. Delete the whole day and just start over.
He didn’t know what else to say to cover that, so he just said, “Talk to you later,” and hung up. Staring at his phone like it had somehow bewitched him into leaving a ridiculous message, he shook his head. What had come over him?
Maybe it was the pure exhaustion. He, Shane, and Austin had agreed to do only light chores on the Sabbath, and really try to rest as much as possible. Both of his brothers were currently taking naps, and Robi
n would be coming out later with steaks and salads for a Sunday afternoon picnic.
Dylan felt restless, and he’d escaped the walls of the house to explore the ranch a little bit. He’d gone down the lane in front of the cabins. The air was fresh, and the wind clean, and he felt at home on this ranch though he’d only been there for two weeks.
But it wasn’t quite the home he’d envisioned—because Hazel wasn’t there. His footsteps faltered, and he paused in a patch of shade. His heart thundered in his chest. Home was where Hazel was.
“I need her,” he whispered to himself. “I love her.” His feet seemed to have grown roots, because he couldn’t get them to move, though they were screaming at him to go! Go now and get over to her house!
She’d probably gone to church, and sometimes Pastor Gifford’s sermons went a little long. He didn’t normally do that in the middle of the summer, knowing that his patrons liked to get out with their families in the afternoons. But what other reason would Hazel have to ignore his calls?
His mouth filled with a bitter taste, and it seemed like pain swooped from his throat to the bottom of his stomach. Maybe she’d blocked his number. Maybe he’d never be able to talk to her again.
“No.” A fire started in his blood, and he turned around and strode back toward the homestead and a truck that would take him to Hazel. If she wouldn’t pick up her phone, he’d go to her house.
He veered onto Grape Seed Ranch as he started to go by it, his mind waffling between heading straight to Hazel and trying to reconcile or just letting her have the space she clearly wanted. She hadn’t called him back, and he’d let eight days go by before phoning her again.
Felicity met him at the top of the steps of the homestead, a knowing look on her face. “Thought I might see you around here sooner or later.” She headed for the door and ushered him inside.
Dylan didn’t have to say anything. He simply went in to enjoy the air conditioning and whatever Felicity would put in front of him.
“Where’re the other boys?” she asked, though she couldn’t be much older than Dylan.
“Napping,” he said, settling onto a barstool. “I can’t even seem to sleep at night, much less during the day.”
“Mm.” She pulled out a carton of eggs and filled a pot with water. “How long you gonna be here?”
“Dunno.” Dylan ran his hands under his hat and through his hair.
“Is it Hazel?”
He saw no point in denying it. He’d come here to talk to someone who might be able to help him. All Shane had said in the fifteen days since Hazel had ended their relationship was, “Go talk to her.”
He really hoped Felicity wouldn’t say the same thing. “Yes.”
She nodded and dropped nine eggs into the pot, set it on the stove, and cranked the flame underneath it. “So what are you thinking?”
Dwayne came through the back door, clapping his hands together. “You shoulda seen Bulletproof,” he said. “He took the bit like he’d been chompin’ on it his whole life.” He caught sight of Dylan and continued toward the kitchen sink. “Hey, Dylan.”
When his hands were clean, he pushed Felicity’s hair behind her ear and kissed her cheek. “Hey, darlin’.” He grinned at her, and they shared something secret Dylan could only dream about.
“Be careful,” Felicity said, a teasing note in her tone. “You’ll make all the other horses jealous the way you go on about Bulletproof.”
His smile only widened and he took in the ingredients Felicity had laid out. “Are you makin’ potato salad?”
“Dylan wants to talk about Hazel.” She shrugged one shoulder and kept peeling potatoes.
“I never said that.”
“You did. You just didn’t use words.”
Dwayne said, “Let me shower, and I’ll be right back.” He disappeared down the hall, and Dylan enjoyed the comfortable atmosphere of this house. It felt serene, like anything could be said here and nothing would be judged.
“Any news on the adoption stuff?” he asked, remembering his manners.
“We made it through the first round,” Felicity said, her face lighting up. “So our profile will be made soon, and then we’ll see if a birth mom chooses us.”
“Someone’s gonna take one look at you and Dwayne and pick you,” Dylan said with more confidence than he’d felt in a long, long time.
“Thank you.” Felicity fell silent, moving around the kitchen as she chopped, boiled, and diced potatoes, eggs, and pickles for the salad.
Dwayne returned to the kitchen wearing a pair of loose sweats and a T-shirt. “What’d I miss?”
“He won’t say much.”
“Have you talked to her?” Dwayne asked, coming around the bar to sit beside Dylan.
Shaking his head, he said, “I’ve called a couple of times. She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t call back.”
“I had to drive to Marysville to get Felicity back.”
“Against his sister’s advice.” Felicity folded mayonnaise and mustard into the potatoes. She salted the salad and mixed it some more. “It worked out okay, I think.” She flashed him a tender smile.
“So I should go over there, and what? I’ve already called twice.”
“Have you apologized?” Dwayne asked.
Dylan sighed and pushed his hat further over his eyes. “That’s just it. I don’t even know what I did wrong.”
“Probably should find out,” Dwayne said.
“And then apologize for it,” Felicity said. “Oh, and tell her you love her. I sure liked it when Dwayne said that.” She pulled three bowls from the cupboard and dished up the potato salad. “It’s not as good cold, but it’s still decent.”
“I like it warm,” Dwayne said, pulling his bowl closer and digging in.
Dylan loved Felicity’s potato salad too, and he took a few bites of the salty, creamy concoction. “So you’re saying I just drive over there, apologize, and tell her I love her.”
“The order you say things doesn’t really matter,” Felicity said.
“Lead with ‘I love you,’” Dwayne advised. “You do love her, right?”
A sense of rightness moved through Dylan, and he once again saw no point in denying it. “Yeah.”
“Don’t sound so happy about it,” Felicity joked, a soft smile on her face. “Hazel is a reasonable woman. She’ll forgive you.”
Dwayne nodded. “And if she doesn’t, just keep goin’ back until she does.”
“Did you have to do that?”
Felicity and Dwayne exchanged a glance. “Not really,” he said. “But she had some…stipulations to our relationship.”
“That sounds so…like I’m so selfish,” Felicity said. She faced Dylan. “I’m not traditional. We needed to be on the same page. That’s all.”
“The same page,” Dylan echoed. He had no idea what book Hazel was even operating in right now. But there was no better time to find out.
Forty minutes later, he’d parked on the street in front of her place, his nerves crowding into the back of his mouth and the potato salad he’d eaten rolling in his gut. Her truck sat in the carport, and he got out and approached the side door, which now bore a sign that said “Hair by Hazel, Come on in.”
He knocked instead of opening her door and entering her home unannounced.
“Just a sec!” Her voice, even muted through the door, made every cell in his body sing.
When she whipped open the door to reveal herself in a pale pink tank top and a short pair of black shorts, Dylan couldn’t even speak. Both of her dogs crowded the doorway, their happy faces nearing and their noses sniffing like mad. They could probably smell Titan, and Dylan let them smell his hands and lick them.
He didn’t remove his eyes from Hazel’s. In the few weeks they’d been apart, he’d forgotten how beautiful she was. How sexy. How kind.
“Dylan,” she said.
His name in her voice unlocked his vocal chords. “I called you a couple of times.”
“I know.”
<
br /> “I want you to come out to the ranch this afternoon.”
“I listened to the messages.”
Dylan wasn’t sure if he should be glad that she had, especially since she hadn’t returned his calls. Or texted. Or anything. She looked at him evenly, though he could see her pulse dancing in her neck. She seemed as nervous as him, and Dylan had no idea what to do or say. He wasn’t even really sure why she’d broken up with him.
“I need a haircut,” he blurted out. “Do you have any appointments today?”
She tilted her head to the side and appraised him. “I suppose I have a few minutes before the bread comes out.” She backed up, keeping her grip tight on the door.
He entered her house, having only been there a few times, and glanced around. It looked like a completely different person lived there. There were no piles of mail on the table. No work jackets strewn over the back of the couch. The counter top was clean, and the scent of honey and yeast hung in the air.
“You bake?”
“I’ve taken a few classes lately,” she said with a casual air that indicated she’d been doing quite a lot without his knowledge.
“And you opened a salon.”
“Hm.” She gestured down the hall, somewhere he hadn’t gone. “It’s in the spare bedroom. After you.”
He stepped in front of her, very aware of the weight of her eyes on his back as he took the few steps and entered the salon. Tons of light spilled through the large window with all the blinds open. The salon chair he’d seen beside the back door now sat proudly in the middle of the room, with a black rubber mat surrounding it. A large mirror had been mounted on the wall, and a skinny desk sat against the wall just inside the door. Two plants adorned the surface, and he couldn’t quite identify the scent hanging in the air. It was probably something like orange cinnamon bun or something crazy like that. Hazel preferred those fancy, designer scents, and Dylan had missed the peachy-sweet smell of her skin.
“Right here?” He moved toward the chair.
