Page 3 of Love Hazard
Chapter One
“Bear spray should be used with all caution unless it'sdark, then you just spray until the screaming stops. After all, bears getintimidated by noise, right?”—Hazel Titus
August
Present Day
There were a lot of cars parked in theTitus’s driveway, an obscene number, which just seemed strange, even forthem. They hosted events during the holidays, but it was June, and in all theyears I’d lived in our house helping take care of my mom while my dad traveledfor business, I’d never once seen an event that big.
“Hmmmm.” I kept sipping my coffeeand staring out the window.
“Stalking?” My mom came up behind me. “Again?”
“Yes, because only the good stalkers are careful to watch inplain sight. Throws the victims off. I saw it on Dateline once. Iwould have graduated at the top of my class in stalker school. Ah, damn it. Missed opportunities.”
She patted me softly on the shoulder. It was a weak pat,just like it always was since her stroke four years ago—right when I wassupposed to be going to college after taking a year off. Right when my life wassupposed to begin…
Not that I hated my life, I was just a bit bored. But I feltlike I couldn’t complain because at least I didn’t have to give up workingaltogether like my mom did. She’d started our companies.Now? She could read, go for some walks, nap, and maybe binge-watch Yellowstone.Her heart was weak, the left side of her face was still slack, and she tiredeasily—even with only being in her late fifties.
I sighed and looked away. “Mom, let me grab you a blanket.”I reached for her favorite quilt and was ready to settle her back onto thecouch when I heard the fireworks.
I turned around and looked out the window.
Mom grabbed my arm and held onto it. “They must becelebrating something huge.”
“Yeah.” I patted her hand and pulled her close. “Must beincredible.”
I kept in the small amount of jealousy I had that Hazelcould live her life while I was stuck with mine. I was happy, and yes, I wouldlove my mom until the very end, but it didn’t make it any easier when I saw aparty next door and a spoiled brat who had no idea how nice she had it.
I think I’d forever call it a flicker in the matrix.Something that made you pause.
A flicker—and more flickers—of her blond hair as she huggedher dad like she’d just cured cancer or something.
Her smile was huge.
She was wearing black, though.
And then I noticed that everyone was.
Frowning, I dropped my mom’s hand. “Be right back.”
She sat in her chair and nodded as if she knew my thoughtsbetter than I did. I walked outside and next door. Right into that party.
Amidst the loudness and laughter, I realized too late...
It wasn’t a party.
It was a funeral.
Chapter Two
“Lipstick does not heal head trauma.”—August Wellington
Hazel
“Make it bright,” Great-Grandma said. I held her hand,and she wore the hat we’d gotten her as a gag gift: You Need Jesus.
At the time, we’d laughed. I wastoo young to understand what the moment meant. And in that moment, I’dcollected all the memories of her smell, the way she patted my hand, and howher laughter always made everyone around her smile.