A growl rumbles in my chest, and she smiles. “We had dinner together a few nights a week, and sometimes he took me out to the movies, bowling”—she shrugs—“you know, dating stuff. I fell hard for him, and I thought he felt the same about me. But it was all a lie.” She lowers her head and twists her hands in her lap. “Charles took me to a party at this house he claimed belonged to a friend. We were there for about an hour when Christine appeared out of nowhere. She grabbed my hands and pulled me to the middle of the makeshift dance floor. One minute we were dancing, and the next I was being shoved. I slammed into this guy’s back. He turned and shoved me into someone else. I was being used as a human pinball. I was disoriented and freaking out. I immediately sought out Christine, who was standing beside Charles. He had his arm around her, and they were laughing at me. It didn’t take long for me to realize what was happening. I’d been set up. I just didn’t know why. They crowded around me, spit on me, pulled my hair, tore at my clothes, called me a whore and other names I’ll never bring myself to repeat. They made hateful comments about my mother’s race.”
“What do you mean?”
She looks over at me with a pained expression. “My mother is biracial, African American and Mexican.”
“So you got the blonde hair from your dad?”
She quirks a corner of her mouth. “You’re getting ahead of—”
“Hold on,” I cut her off. “What they did to you is considered a hate crime. Did you report it?”
Hazel gives me a sad smile. “By some miracle, I was able to break away from them. Someone had just walked in the door, so I took my chance and made a run for it. I’d just made it out the front door when I was shoved from behind and down the concrete steps.”
“Did anyone help you?” I press.
“Someone must’ve called for help because I woke up in an ambulance. I was in and out of consciousness when I got to the hospital. I hit my head on the stairs when I fell and busted my head open. My hair and face were caked in blood. I had a concussion, a broken wrist, and bruised ribs. I was lucky I hadn’t broken anything else. My parents lived two hours away, so my mom couldn’t get there right away. The police came in and questioned me. I told them the truth, but everyone at the party claimed I was drunk and fell down the stairs. I didn’t have much of an argument, because I had been drinking, but I wasn’t drunk. There were no marks because they didn’t actually hit me.”
“Did you ever find out why they targeted you?”
She nods. “The next morning, I woke up to a man standing at the end of my bed. The first thing he said was ‘You’re even more beautiful in person,’ and before I could call for a nurse, he introduced himself as Jackson Powell. My birth father.”
“Holy shit.”
“My mother had told me I was named Hazel after my grandmother, whom I’ve never met. I thought it was my dad’s mother, but turns out Hazel was Jackson’s mother. He apologized on behalf of my half sister, Christine, for terrorizing me, and after giving me a brief explanation and another half-assed apology for being absent from my life and what he did to my mother, he placed an envelope on my lap and said, ‘My card is in there. Call me when you’re ready to talk.’ Then he turned and walked out.”
“He gave you money, didn’t he?”
“Yep.”
“Did you take it?”
“Damn right I did. That man nearly broke my mother, and his psychotic kid almost broke me.”
“Did you confront your mother?”
She nods again. “I did.” She heaves in a deep breath. “My mother started working for the Powells when she was only eighteen. Mrs. Powell was just a few months along in her pregnancy and had been instructed by her doctors to take it easy, so she hired my mother to help around the house and run a few errands. She had only been working for them for a month before Jackson made his move. He seduced her, took her virginity, got her pregnant, and then discarded her like trash.
“My mother is not a stupid woman. She knew what she was doing was wrong, but she was young and, in her words, ‘Jackson was handsome and charming.’ When she told him she was pregnant with me, he fired her and told her never to contact him again. She did as he asked. And I don’t blame her.
“When she was about four months pregnant, she met my dad, an army sergeant and the man who raised me. He was much older than her, but he loved her even though she was carrying another man’s child. They married before I was even born.
“So to answer your question as to why I was targeted. Mrs. Powell had passed away that year just before Christine moved into my apartment. Christine was close to her mother and somewhat estranged from her father. Her mother hated my mother and the fact that I existed, so naturally, so did Christine. She wanted to hurt me, and she did.”
“What about Charles?” I ask.
Hazel snorts a disgusted laugh. “Charles and Christine were childhood friends, and I wouldn’t doubt that they were screwing, too. Together they pulled off the most horrific way to humiliate and terrify me. I left Texas shortly after I was released from the hospital and moved to New Orleans to live with Clara.”
“You moved away from your family because of a couple of bullies?” I ask incredulously.
“Just one bully. The day I was released from the hospital, I got a text from Charles apologizing for the part he played in pretending to date me and bringing me to the party. He swore he didn’t know Christine would take it that far. I also had one from Christine. It said ‘Watch your back, whore. I’m not finished with you.’ She went through a lot of trouble to hurt me. She’s not stable, and I believe she’s the one who put those flowers on my doorstep.” She takes a trembling breath.
I wrap her hand in mine and rub my thumb along her knuckles. “So, who’s Clara?”
“She’s an old friend of my mom’s.” She smiles fondly. “She owns this little place called The Mystikal Tea Room just off Bourbon Street. I was on the phone with her when you stopped by my office this morning. And she’s the one who encouraged me to open the café here in Heritage Bay.”
Interesting.
“What about Christine? Do you think she’ll try to hurt you again?”
Hazel shrugs. “She can try.” She looks over at me. “I was a twenty-year-old wallflower caught off guard by two sociopaths. If she comes at me this time, I’ll be ready for her.”
Everything I assumed about Hazel rings true. She’d been hurt, broken, and she’s stronger because of it. She’s a fighter.
Reaching over, I grab her arm and pull her under me. “And you have me. I won’t let her or anyone hurt you.”
After I drop Hazel at her place, I head over to Uncle Jason’s and ask him to pull up the camera footage from last night. I want a good long look at this Christine woman. But what I find is much more disturbing.
I immediately drive over to Hazel’s café. Pulling up to the curb out front, I throw the truck in Park and quickly hop out to head inside.
“Good afternoon, Levi,” Starr chirps as I make my way to the counter. “Hazel’s not in.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I tell her, “I’m actually here to see you.”