I carried coffee into the bedroom and watched her sleep. I gently put the two mugs down on the nightstand, spilling a little coffee on my hand, and I mouthed the word fuck until the burning sensation subsided.

She was just too beautiful. And seeing her like this, her guard down, it made her even more beautiful. I knew I couldn’t save her from everything in life or everything inside her, but I could damn well just be there. The way she was for me with my great aunt Ada.

To my left, I saw her bag on the floor. Her camera rested right on top.

I grabbed the camera, moving stealthily, making sure not to wake her up. I flipped on the switch and stared at all the damn buttons on it. I knew nothing about cameras, so I just put Hazel into the screen and pressed the black button to take the picture. The lens made a whirring sound as it brought itself into focus. Then a little black piece shot up, and the flash blinked a few times.

The camera then clicked, and the picture of Hazel appeared on the screen.

That’s what woke her up.

Her eyes opened, that green color hitting me in the head, heart, and gut at the same time. Enough to make me take an extra breath just to prove to myself that I was alive and not dreaming.

Hazel pushed up from the bed. The sheet fell down her body as she sat up. She grabbed it at the last second as she sat up.

“Payback,” I whispered. I set the camera on the bed. “Good morning, sugar.”

“Good morning,” she said. “What time is it?”

“Does that matter?”

“No.”

“Then forget what time it is.”

I leaned down and kissed her.

I tasted her sleep, and it made me want to taste that same thing every morning for the rest of my life.

“Coffee?” I asked.

“Please.”

I gave her the mug I prepared for her.

She sat in bed, holding the mug with two hands, blowing into it, sending light brown ripples across the surface like a kid skipping a stone into a lake during a summer’s night.

I grabbed for the camera again.

I stole another picture.

Hazel looked at me, one eyebrow raised. “You proved your point.”

“No point to prove,” I said. “You’re just too fucking beautiful.”

“Thanks.” She took a sip of coffee, staring straight ahead.

I nodded.

I turned the camera off and put it on the floor. I grabbed my coffee and climbed into bed next to her.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Huh?”

“You’re staring,” I said. “Something must be bothering you.”

“No.”

“Yes, Hazel,” I said. I touched her chin and smiled. “Don’t lie to me. You don’t have to talk to me, just don’t lie.”

She swallowed hard. “This feeling, Maddox. It’s so real.”

“I know.”

“You told me everything. You showed me everything. But I haven’t…”

“Right now, just enjoy your coffee,” I said. “Enjoy my company. People would do anything for this company.”

“You say that to everyone you share coffee with in bed?” Hazel asked.

“If you want to know the truth, no. I don’t share coffee in my bed with anyone. Anything I ever had served a simple purpose. In, out, go.”

“So, you’re a man-whore?” she asked with a smile.

“Just your whore,” I said and kissed her cheek.

She laughed.

I loved the way she held her coffee mug. Her pointer, middle, and ring fingers on her right hand slid into the handle of the mug, her pinky under it. Then the same fingers on her left hand did the same, sliding over her righthand fingers. Cupping the mug and drinking it slow.

The entire moment was something. I almost wished I had a picture of it.

“You were right,” she said.

“Oh?”

“Something is bothering me.”

“I’m all ears if you want to talk. If not, then I’m all arms to hold you.”

“Dammit,” Hazel snapped.

“What?”

“When you say that kind of stuff…it…it makes me mad.”

“Mad? Why mad?”

“Because of how much I fucked up my life.”

I reached for my coffee, buckling up for whatever Hazel was about to say.

“We all have a journey, sugar.”

“I gave up my best friend for a guy.”

“I think everyone has done that at some point.”

“Maddox, it was serious. She used to help me with my makeup. When things got obvious-looking.”

I felt my nerves pinch. The images of someone hurting Hazel flashed in my mind, and I never wanted to see those images ever again.

“Her name was Donna. We were friends since grade school. She wanted to do makeup for movie stars. Instead, she covered up my bruises.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“She stood up to me. To the situation. I was terrified of losing her, but I walked away. I kept her away. But in some way, she saved me. The night I decided that enough was enough started because of her. She called me, drunk, and really let me have it. That kind of woke me up to everything.”

“I guess you could say that was sort of a good thing,” I said. “What happened with her then?”

Hazel shook her head. “I let her down so badly, Maddox. The last time I saw her, she was crying. Crying so hard. Begging me to stay. She was so afraid for me. But I had to do it. He was threatening to go after her. That’s what he wanted next. And if Donna said no to him…”

Hazel shivered.

I slowly reached for her coffee mug and stole it from her hand. I put it on the nightstand. I slid my arm around her and hugged her tight.

I kissed her hair.

“Hazel, there’s a couple things I want you to think about right now. You did what you felt was right. You protected your best friend. Even if it was something hard to go through. Something hard to do. In some fucked-up way she repaid you by making that phone call that made you change whatever it is you changed…”

I felt her shiver in my arms.

There was something about that change that bothered her. It didn’t empower her like it should have. My heart felt cut a little, wanting to know what happened to Hazel the night she stood up for herself. But if she wasn’t ready, then I would wait. She was worth the wait.

“Keep telling me things,” she whispered.

“This is so fucking cliché…and I don’t do cliché, sugar. I don’t do tattoos off the wall, not without my own touch. I don’t do romance with flowers and chocolate, no. I do romance with my heart in your heart, feeling it pulse and bleed. But this is cliché…and there’s time. There’s always time. She’s still alive, right?”

“Donna? Yeah.”

“Meaning you’ve tried to find her?”

Hazel looked up at me, blushing. “Yes.”

“Which means you care. And I’m sure she does. Just to hear your voice and know you’re okay, imagine the relief that will give her.”

“She has her own business now. Owns a few salons. She’s really successful. I really doubt she cares about the past. Or me.”

“You’d be surprised, Hazel. But that’s all I’ll say. I won’t judge for anything you do or don’t do. Just follow your heart.”

Hazel touched my face. Tears fell from her eyes. “How did this happen to us, Maddox? I mean, through all the messed-up stuff…here we are…”

I grabbed her hand and balled my hand over her hand. “To be fair, you started it. You took a picture of me. You got my fucking attention in the worst way possible.”

“And to think, what if it was Prick out there? Or Cass? Or Max?”

I laughed. “Sugar, sometimes thinking about fate is like trying to think about how fucking far away a star is. It’s fun for a second but then it gets scary.”

“So…the sexy, tough tattoo artist…fate scares you?”

“Fate terrifies me,” I said.

“Why?”

“Because when I look into your green eyes, Hazel, I actually fucking believe in fate.”