The True Story of Atticus and Hazel Page 6

  “Hazel!” Etta yelled, grabbing my chin. “You’re going to finish the semester out before Christmas. You’re not going to tell Tim anything until we have to, and you will not get fired. We’re going to do this.”

  I started breathing normally again and felt a little bit better and in control until the nausea hit again. “Out of my way!” I ordered, practically crawling to the toilet and heaving everything in my stomach.

  “First things first, you have to find Atticus Kelly,” I heard over my shoulder.

  Etta threaded her arm through mine as we approached Normandy’s.

  “I can’t do this,” I told her.

  She tightened her grip. “Just do it, Hazel. I’ll be right out here,” she told me, pointing at a patio table.

  “You’re not coming with me?”

  “Girl, are you crazy? I can’t go in there while you tell him this difficult-ass personal thing. Man up!”

  “Fine, sit out here.”

  “I love you,” she said.

  “I love you too, but I don’t like you all that well right now.”

  “That’s fine. Now go.”

  I opened the big, creaky door to Normandy’s and stepped inside. It was busy, as always, so I meandered through the crowd and approached the bar. The music pulsed above. My heart raced when I saw Atticus’s brother Cillian. I knew the exact moment he saw me.

  “You!” he yelled, pointing at me. He leapt over the bar with a look that told me he was going to catch me if I dared attempt to run, and from that look I was thinking about it. “Liam! Brendan! Malachi!” he yelled over his shoulder. “It’s Hazel!” I watched as the other three followed their brother’s movement and each caught me in their line of sight.

  It scared the shit out of me, to be honest. I started to back up a little, ready to bolt, but Cillian caught me by the elbow and smiled at me. “I don’t think so, Hazel. Do you mind coming with me?”

  “I do, actually,” I explained. “I’m looking for Atticus.”

  “That’s splendid then,” he said, “because I’ll be calling him up here in just a moment.”

  “Did he say Hazel?” one dancer asked another, catching the attention of a few others.

  My eyes darted all around me. People had stopped dancing and started whispering.

  “It’s Hazel,” I heard over and over.

  “The Hazel?”

  “Hazel Hazel?” one girl asked her friend.

  Liam, Malachi, and Brendan joined their brother’s side and all four towered over me. “Take her to the office,” Cillian told Malachi. “I’ve got to get back to the bar.” Malachi guided me toward the back. “And don’t let her leave until Atticus gets here!” he threw out.

  Malachi led me down a dark hall; the bass of the music shook the walls around us. “Here you go,” Malachi yelled. He opened the door and let me inside. “I’m sure it won’t be long. Atticus is just down the road,” he promised, making the butterflies in my stomach race at an unbelievable speed. He winked at me and shut the door.

  I sat on the edge of my chair, my knee bouncing up and down. I placed my bag on the chair next to me, thought twice, placed it on the ground next to my feet, then stood, unable to sit still. I paced back and forth in what I assumed was Aidan’s office when the door opened abruptly and Cillian came sauntering in.

  “Hello, Hazel,” he greeted cheerfully, a wide smile on his face.

  He plopped down in the chair and propped his feet on the desk.

  “Hello, Cillian.”

  “Fancy seeing you here tonight,” he stated.

  “Listen, I’m looking for Atticus—” I began.

  “How ironic. In case you didn’t know, Atticus has been looking for you, or have you not seen the thousands of posters he’s posted around the city?”

  I gulped. “I saw them.”

  “Is it true you only met him that night?”

  “Yes,” I answered, settling in my chair again, satisfied the conversation would keep me distracted.

  “Do you know that Atticus doesn’t date, Hazel?”

  My breaths started to speed up. “I didn’t know that.”

  “He can attract them. He just can’t ever keep them. He’s too cerebral for most and they end up getting bored, they can’t keep up. You see, Atticus is the family Good Will Hunting, so fucking smart he got a full scholarship to MIT but gave it up because he wanted to pursue music. The whole family was beyond pissed he did it but, hey, it was what he wanted.”

  “That’s incredible,” I admitted.

  “So you can imagine our surprise when he brought you over.”

  I swallowed again. “I see that now.”

  “The next day he couldn’t shut up about you, wondering what happened to you, if you were okay. He actually called hospitals just to make sure you weren’t hurt.”

  My blood started to race. “Oh my God, I hadn’t even considered that,” I told him.

  “Yeah, maybe you should have, though. Left a little note after you stomped all over his gosh-damn heart?”

  I felt my face flush. “That wasn’t my intention. I swear.”

  Cillian studied me for a moment. “Maybe. You know what I really want to know?”

  “What?”

  “Why now? Why this night? After weeks of posters and his dogged search for you?”

  “I need to talk to him.”

  “You’re a hard girl to track down, you know that?” He ignored me. “You’re not listed anywhere, not online. It’s like you’re a ghost, Hazel.”

  I nodded. “I have to stay hidden or my mom tries to find me and hit me up for cash,” I told him truthfully.

  He opened his mouth to say something else when the office door blew open, bringing in music and noise from the bar and making me jump.

  “Hazel,” Atticus promised with a low voice. His eyes swung to his brother and he nodded. Cillian stood and left, closing the door behind him.

  Atticus moved beside the door, his back leaning against the wall. He was a mere five feet away from me and I realized time hadn’t done anything to diminish the attraction I felt for him. He wore black tattered jeans, a white T-shirt, and a pair of black chucks. His hair was a mess on top of his head, parted on the side. His left hand rested on the handle of the door, and my eyes went to his fingers.

  He moved to the desk and sat in the chair there; his forearms rested on its surface.

  “Hi, Atticus,” I greeted, but he didn’t anything.

  He didn’t answer me. He could only stare, his mouth parted slightly.

  “Atticus, I—” I began, but he held up his hand to stay me where I was.

  His eyes perused me up and down, and the look sent violent shivers throughout my skin.

  He breathed in deep through his nose and leaned back in the chair, throwing out his long legs much like he’d done the night we sat on the bench.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” he told me.

  “I know,” I admitted.

  He raised a sardonic brow.

  “Atticus,” I said, scooting forward in my chair. “I have something I need to tell you.”

  He licked his bottom lip and stared at me, looking bored, and he waited.

  “Um, that night,” I said, my throat growing dry.

  “That night?”

  “I, uh, well, that was, um, my first time ever.”

  “I’d discovered this,” he said. “The blood was a little confusing,” he explained, mortifying me.

  “I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, his face passive, “you should have.”

  “I don’t date musicians,” I told him.

  “Yes, you’ve told me this already.”

  “I woke up that morning and I felt a little overwhelmed. I’d just lost my, well, you know, and I hadn’t expected that to happen.”

  “I wish you would have told me,” he said, a little bit of honesty coming out in his voice.

  “I-I wish I had too.” I looked down at my folded hands on
my lap. “I really wish I had said something. Anyway, I’m getting off topic. I have to tell you something.”

  “What do you need, Hazel?” he asked, making me feel small. He sighed like he was bored, and something switched inside me.

  Oh my God, I have to get out of here.

  I stood up, sure I’d made a huge mistake in coming that night. He watched as I moved slowly toward the door. He sat up in his chair and leaned forward. “Don’t leave, Hazel,” he warned.

  “I, um, I’ll try and—” I stuttered when my back reached the door and my hand found the knob.

  Atticus stood in a rush, his face passive, but stalked toward me with purpose, boxing me in. “Say it, Hazel.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?

  “I’m a little afraid to.”

  “You don’t have to fear me. I’d never hurt you.”

  “I know this.”

  “Then what are you afraid of?” he asked me.

  The smell of his skin made me feel dizzy. “I found out something today, and it affects the both of us.”

  “Oh yeah? And what did—?” he started to say before stopping stone still.

  His eyes frantically searched my face, and the tears I’d been trying to hold back came streaming down my face. I sucked in a breath. “I’m so sorry,” I told him.

  “Wait a minute,” he said, staggering back a few steps. His hand went to his mouth and drew down. He folded his arms and sat at the edge of the desk. “Are you telling me you’re pregnant, Hazel?”

  I nodded, unable to speak.

  He let out a breath and stood, both hands went to the top of his head, and he paced back and forth.

  “I’m so sorry. I feel like I’ve ruined your life,” I sobbed.

  Atticus stopped. His hands fell at his sides and he turned toward me, looking confused before wrapping me up in his arms.

  “You haven’t ruined my life, Hazel. This is something we did together. This is the consequence of what we did. Now we just have to sit down and figure out what to do.”

  He held me in his arms for a long time while I got myself together then sat back, putting his hands on the sides of my neck. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  I laughed a little. “Like shit,” I told him truthfully.

  “I’m sorry for that.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Have you been to a doctor yet?”

  “Not yet. I just found out today. Took a test.”

  He nodded, looking a little shell shocked. “Well, we can guess how far along you are then.”

  “Yes,” I told him. “Atticus?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m scared shitless.”

  His thumbs found a few straggling tears and wiped them away. “Me too, kid, but maybe we can be scared shitless together.”

  I nodded.

  “I can bring any of my brothers in here and we can ask them whatever questions we want.”

  “Should we?” I asked.

  “I think it might help us a little.”

  “Okay, that’s fine.”

  “Let me get Cillian.” He looked at me. “Don’t even think about going anywhere,” he said.

  “I won’t,” I told him.

  Atticus left the office and I decided to sit down. He returned with Cillian in tow and closed the door behind them.

  “Dude, this can’t take long. I’ve got to get back to the bar.”

  “Cillian, Hazel found out she’s pregnant today,” Atticus came out and said.

  Cillian got really quiet before turning to his brother. “Wait, what?”

  “Hazel’s pregnant.”

  Cillian nodded his head and looked at me. “You’re pregnant.”

  “Jesus, this will take all night at this rate!” Atticus shouted. “Yes! Hazel’s pregnant.”

  “Holy shit,” he said. “This is crazy to me. I’m sorry you, Atticus, got a girl pregnant?”

  “What are you trying to say?” I asked, offended.

  “No, no! It’s not you,” Cillian answered me. “It’s just not something we ever expected of Atticus.”

  This is terrible.

  “What should we do now?” Atticus asked his brother.

  “Well, I mean, are you keeping it?”

  “Yes,” Atticus and I answered together.

  He looked at me, through me, as if to say, thank you.

  “Okay, you,” Cillian said, pointing at me, “need to see a doctor. My girl’s got a good one if you want their number.”

  “Sure, cough it up,” Atticus said.

  “Fine, let me just text her.”

  Cillian hit a couple of buttons on his phone then laughed. “She says she thinks this shit is fucking hilarious.”

  “Tell her thank you so much for the warm congratulations,” Atticus spit sarcastically.

  “Okay, here’s his number,” Cillian said, grabbing a sheet of paper and jotting it down.

  He handed it over to me and I recorded it in my phone. “Okay, what now?”

  “The rest is up to you guys,” he said, his hands up as he backed out of the room and escaped through the door.

  Atticus stared after his brother, his eyes wide, and focused on the closed door.

  “Atticus,” I whispered.

  He startled, seemingly strung tight, and looked over at me. “You don’t have to do anything. I can do this by myself.”

  “I believe you’re strong enough to do this by yourself, but I’d rather do it with you, so can we agree never to bring that up again?” My heart beat in my throat. I nodded as he checked his phone. “I can’t believe this,” he said.

  “What?”

  “This band has the most fucked timing.” He stuck his phone back in his pocket. “I’m so sorry, Hazel. I have to go to work.”

  “Oh, okay. Um, I can give you my number and we can meet up later.”

  He looked at me. “Would you want to come with me? I have a comfortable couch you can lay down on in the studio.”

  “Would I be in the way?” I asked.

  For the first time that night, he smiled at me and I felt my eyes burn. “No, Hazel, you will never be in the way.”

  “Okay, then, let’s go.”

  He stood up and stared at his feet for a few seconds before looking at me and hesitantly offering his hand. I took it and felt a little relieved. He led me out of the office, down the dark hall to the main part of the busy bar. There was a song playing over the speaker and the crowd loved it, jumping up and down and dancing around. I didn’t blame them. It was an incredible song.

  “Who is this?” I screamed over the crowd at Atticus.

  “What?” he shouted back, moving closer to my ear.

  I pointed up. “Whose song is this?”

  He stopped and stared at me. “This is my song, Haze.”

  My mouth dropped open a little bit and he smiled at me before dragging me through the door. Etta was sitting at the table and I ran to her. She threw her arms around my neck.

  “He didn’t run,” I told her, trying to hold back tears.

  “That’s great, baby,” she said.

  She let go of me when Atticus came up to us. “Atticus.” She smiled.

  “Etta,” he said, smiling back, “nice to see you again.”

  She looked at him, and the look sent a clear message. “I’m going home now because I’ve got to work in the morning.” She turned to me and kissed my cheek. “Text me when you get home. I don’t care what time it is.”

  “I will.”

  “Love you,” she said.

  “Wait,” Atticus said, “did you park in Normandy’s lot?”

  “Yeah,” Etta answered.

  “We’ll walk you to your car,” he said.

  Etta’s eyes bugged from her head. “Well, damn, Mr. Manners. All right, take me to my car then.”

  We walked Etta through the lot and made sure she got into her car and drove away before Atticus walked me over to his Impala. My heart started to race.

 
“The scene of the crime,” he teased. I started crying again. “Oh, Hazel, I’m sorry,” he said, laughing and wrapping me in a hug.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” my weepy ass sobbed.

  “It’s a combination of everything, I think. Come on,” he said, opening my door for me. I climbed in, glanced in the back for a moment, and noticed my boots were on the seat.

  “I left them there just in case I ever ran into you,” he told me.

  I swallowed. “Thank you.”

  He started the car and pulled forward. I noticed a pair of fuzzy dice sway back and forth on his rearview mirror. “These are new.” I giggled.

  Atticus barked out a laugh. “Yeah, I laid a track for a solo artist a few weeks ago and she gave it to me.”

  “I love anything novelty,” I told him.

  He tapped his temple. “Noted.”

  “So you got to see my work, now I get to see yours.”

  “Yup,” he said. He coughed into his hand. “I’m a little nervous, to be honest.”

  “Don’t be. Seriously.”

  “How can I not be, though? Have you seen your paintings?”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

  “I mean it, Hazel.”

  “Thank you.” I counted to three before I spoke again. “Atticus?”

  “Huh?”

  “Do you think I could get a copy of that song that was playing at Normandy’s?”

  “I’ll get you anything you want, Hazel.”

  “I want that song.”

  “I’ll send the track to your phone when I get to the studio.”

  The Sink was tucked into an old building in Deep Ellum. It was painted a radical green and white in a geometric pattern and had The Sink written in thin metal letters over the top. It looked much smaller than I thought it would be. Atticus parked right out front. I made a move to get out but he grabbed my hand. “Remember?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I answered, and stayed put while he came to my side of the car and opened the door for me.

  He took my hand and helped me out. He approached The Sink’s entrance and stuck a key inside the metal door’s lock, pushing it open, locking it behind us again, then entered a number combo into a security pad.

  “The band recording won’t be here for another half hour or so. Follow me,” he said, keeping my hand in his.