Page 10 of Lumberjack Bride

Three

Hazel

I may never go home again.

Twenty-four-seven room service, a full-service spa, a cleaning staff, and a giant bed all to myself?

Sign me up.

I relax onto the bed, wiggling back and forth to get extra comfortable against the thick pillows. I rub my fingers up and down the arms of my bathrobe — one that I’ll probably swipe on my way out of here. If I ever leave, that is…

I glance around, searching for the television remote. It lies on the table by the bed, far away on the opposite side.

“Leo, could you grab that—”

I bite my tongue. I remember that he’s not here but the damage is already done.

Ugh. Who am I kidding?

I miss my lake house. And my dog. And the sound of Leo working away in his woodshop downstairs while I read in the little nook next to my parents’ honeymoon tree. I even miss Leo’s stupid, scratchy, sexy beard rubbing against my head as I snuggle up next to him in bed.

I stare at his side. Cold and empty.

Just two more nights.

I abandon my quest for the remote and look at the brown box at the foot of the bed instead. My mother’s stuff. It’s not the first time I’ve gone through her belongings since she died. It was her diary that led me to Whitefish in the first place. The story of how she met my father changed my life and put me on the path to where I am now.

The path to Leo.

I grab the box and slide it closer. I peel away the tape’s edge and rip it free. As the lid creeps up, my nose twitches from her familiar scent. My mother wore the same perfume every single day of her life. It never changed. I inhale deeply, taking in my fill of her. My eyes water but another long breath forces them back down. Maybe I should have asked Leo to stay with me while I went through this.

I push the urge to call him aside and open the box.

There’s a layer of crumbled newspaper on top. I pull out the little balls and drop them onto the bed. There’s a small jewelry box made of black vinyl sitting on top. I open the lid, hoping to find a pair of earrings or a necklace that compliments my dress, but it’s empty.

I set it down beside me and turn back to the box. A brown, leather-bound book sits beneath where the jewelry box was. A red cloth bookmark sticks out the edge of the pages. The cover is bent in three places. Used and abused. I thought I had all of my mother’s diaries already but I guess we missed one.

I open it to the first page and smile at my mother’s handwriting.

August 1997.I was five.

I flip through the pages, scanning each line for any words that might jump out.

Hazel told me today that she wanted to be a mermaid when she grew up. I told her that mermaids weren’t real. They were only make-believe but she didn’t care. She knew what she wanted. I hope she never loses that childish sense of logic. I know I have.

I chuckle to myself, suddenly recalling my old obsession with mermaids before I flick over to the next page.

Carter’s gone on business again. He didn’t even kiss me goodbye this time. I wonder if he noticed. Probably not.

I saw Ryan again tonight.

I stop reading to search my memory for a man named Ryan. I come up with nothing.

I know I shouldn’t have gone to him. Every part of me told me not to. Except for one. Carter hasn’t touched me like that in a long time. Not like Ryan does.

I let the diary slip from my fingers. It falls to the bed, the pages quickly flicking closed.

This can’t be real. When I think of my parents, I picture nothing but moments of pure bliss and PDA. They never raised their voices or talked down to each other. They were happy, the total personification of every relationship goal I’ve ever had.

But were they always that way? Was there a time way back before I could even notice when things were different?

My mother cheated on my father. It’s right here in her own words. In black and white.

Lover’s Trail was a lie. Everything about it was a lie. Why would fate bring them together here if they were destined to hurt each other?

And is that what’s destined to happen to me and Leo?

I glance around the empty hotel room, my eyes drifting slowly toward the white dress hanging on the closet door.

I guess I did find something blue instead.