Forced (1st book in The Forced Series)

Chapter Fourteen *REVISED*

Chapter Fourteen

Hazel wiped away her tears. She was beyond furious with herself for allowing Van to see her cry. After the ridiculous streaks for running makeup were gone, she reapplied her some foundation and disregarded her swollen eyes. There was nothing she could do for the redness. Sighing, Hazel began the impossible task of unraveling the mad network of fastening on the dress. She had hated it the moment she saw it and now she hated it more. The dress was everything she was not, and helped to tie her to a choice she knew that she would forever regret. After she threw the wedding dress to the side, Hazel changed into the shorter one for the reception.

Van stood staring at the dressing room, wandering why her sister or mother had not bothered to come help her. He was no expert on dresses, but that thing looked like a maze of fastenings. Just as he was going to throw caution to the wind by offering his help Hazel appeared at the door in a dress the same style as the original, but only knee high with a black top that matched his suit. Van straightened, keenly aware of every curve the waist line and skirt of the dress was clinging to.

She furred her brows at him, oblivious to her allure.

"Let's go then, Mrs. Steel." Van said after clearing his throat. He held out his bent arm for her to slip her hand through but Hazel hesitated.

"Va-Van?" Hazel swallowed, folding her hands into a tight fist behind her. She could feel the pain of her nails digging into her palm but tightened her hand as her anxiety heightened. "I- I don't want to. To go out there that is."

Hazel eyes stinged with more tears she refused to cry. Throughout the five years of her self-imposed exile Hazel had not felt more alone and lost than she did at that moment. Things in Chicago had not always been smooth sailing but none of it had meant being around the people who had made her lose faith in relationships. Her mother would give a toast, a speech no doubt written by her father that was filled with lies. Her sister would give one too, with all her contempt for Hazel dripping from every word. All the people she was supposed to love and cherish were making their way to the reception hall, and yet none of them were familiar to her. The people she knew looked down on her and the people she just met would eventually come to hate her just as everyone else did.

Hazel did not want to admit it, but she was afraid of the pain that would take over when everyone, even Van's theatrical friend Zash, would turn away from her. In her life, it seemed as if everyone did.

"You go. Tell them I've fainted or that I'm feeling queasy." She stepped back, "Anything."

Surprised, Van eyed her silently. His searched her face for a clue to her emotions, "Are you okay? I'll stay here with you or we can leave for the hotel now."

Van took a step forward, placing his hands on her hips but Hazel flinched back, "No. You can go."

Van scuffed, "No? Hazel, you are my wife. This is our wedding. There is no 'I' in team. I can't go to our reception alone. I can't leave you alone, especially if you aren't feeling well."

Hazel looked down at his hands that were hanging limply by his side. A pang of longing hit her even as she said, "Its not your responsibility to come at my beck and call. I am okay."

Van huffed, turning to the side to face away from her. He had never known such irony existed. One would think a woman would want a willing husband, yet his wife, for the life of him, wanted nothing to do with him.

"I am not leaving you. We are going to the hotel and I am going to take care of you. And don't take this the wrong way, it's not for you, but for the promises we just made. Remember? In sickness and in health."