He sighed, pulled over to the gravel shoulder, and parked his pickup in front of the pair of clapboard buildings. After a landslide destroyed the school last winter, Bull loaned out a couple of houses Mako had owned for the spring semester classes. One of the teachers was using a building for her informal “summer school” and an older-child day care.
Inside, Hawk headed for the dining room, which served as the daycare for preschool-aged children. A batch of short tables and chairs filled one end. Stick-figure-type artwork—like the pictures on his fridge—covered a corkboard wall.
At least half a dozen rugrats darted around the room like bats in a mosquito-rich environment.
“Hey, Hawk,” Erica called from where she was putting shoes on a little boy. Her mother was the teacher responsible for this zoo. According to Knox, the young woman had recently dropped out of college to consider her career choices.
Hawk nodded to her.
“I heard you’re picking up Aric today. He’s in the reading circle.” Erica motioned to a corner with a round, bright red rug and green beanbag chairs.
Yeah, there was Aric in a chair, immersed in a picture book.
Hawk started across the room and paused to admire the clay animals on a table. Some of the kids had done damn clever work.
A tinny-sounding “mooo-mooo-mooo” caught his attention. A little girl was pushing buttons on a white plastic gameboard that lay at Aric’s feet. When she pressed a green button a loud “meow” sounded.
“Hey! That’s mine!” Aric jumped up and grabbed the game, trying to pull it away.
“Mine!” The girl wrenched the plastic board free. Freeing one hand, she shoved Aric back. “Bad boy.”
Moving that direction, Hawk snorted. Fair enough.
Face red with fury, Aric swept the closest books off the bookcase, then started throwing the rest. Everywhere.
Shit.
A book hit the girl. She dropped the toy and screamed in pain.
The high, pain-filled sound hit Hawk like an IED, blinding him with memories. His father’s shouting, “You fucking stupid brat,” and flinging the screwdriver at him. The pain as it ripped across his forehead. Screaming, curling on the floor, holding his forehead. Father kicking him out of the way. “Dumb fuck.” Blood everywhere.
Hawk tasted blood. Pain told him he’d bitten the inside of his cheek. He shook his head hard and pulled in a breath, trying to escape the flashback.
Not. Now.
In the corner, Aric lifted a heavy book over his head to throw it…at the girl.
“Stop!” Hawk’s voice came out an angry roar.
Aric froze.
Taking the boy by his arms, Hawk picked him up, strode to the other corner, and set him down. “You—”
His voice strangled and died. He not only sounded like his father but was looming over the kid. Jesus, no.
Aric crumpled into a scared ball on the floor.
Hawk’s mouth went dry. The harsh sound of his own voice still rang in his ears, and his heart pounded faster than in a damned artillery barrage. What the hell was wrong with him?
He knew the answer. He was a monster.
Get a grip, asshole. Pulling in a breath, he went down on his haunches beside the boy that, face it, he loved with all his wretched heart. A child he shouldn’t be allowed near. “Aric.”
Aric kept crying.
“Hey…” Hawk reached out carefully.
The boy didn’t move.
“Kid, I’m sorry I yelled.” Hawk cringed inside. He was just as bad as his father, terrifying a child. There were no words to erase that fact.
He could only wait, silently, until the tears slowed.
Across the room, Erica held the little girl who was now calm. There was no blood. She’d be okay.
Aric sat up.
Slowly, carefully, Hawk pulled out his bandanna and used it to wipe away the snot and tears.
The boy didn’t cower from him—such a brave kid.
Hawk pulled in another breath against the pain under his ribs. “Let’s get you home.”
The trip home had been silent. Hawk turned off the pickup, released Aric from the car seat in back, then lifted him and set him on his feet.
When he shut the pickup’s door, the kid just stood there, staring up at Hawk with big eyes. Unhappy eyes that hurt something deep inside Hawk’s chest.
“C’mon, kid.”
Aric didn’t move. Just held his arms up in a way he hadn’t for weeks. And he had tears in his eyes.
Hawk wanted to sit down beside him and bawl too. Getting shot, getting knifed had been less painful. “Sure, buddy.”
He lifted Aric carefully, an arm under his ass.
The kid’s arm went around his neck, head on Hawk’s shoulder. Why the fuck was the boy snuggling up to a monster?
Hawk pulled in a breath and carried his charge out to the courtyard. Time to man up, confess, and disappear for the good of all of them.
Everyone was already on the patio.
Wearing a baseball cap with her hair pulled through the back, Kit tossed a salad and chatted with JJ about some celebration for Audrey.
Frankie was learning to grill, something the city girl hadn’t yet mastered. To one side, Bull offered suggestions.
At the end of the table, Audrey was unloading condiments from a tray.
Gabe and Caz were setting the table with Regan’s help.
His family. So normal, so fucking amazing.
The sense of loss was like the bite of shrapnel, ripping his chest to shreds. As Hawk carried Aric to the patio, his boots felt as if they were weighted down with lead.
“Hey, honey bear.” Kit hurried up, obviously having seen the tear-streaked face. “What’s wrong?”
Hawk tried to hand over the kid, but Aric’s arm tightened around his neck.
The boy had no sense of self-preservation.
Kit turned to Hawk, brown eyes filled with worry. And everyone on the patio went silent.
Time to gut himself, bleed out, and leave.
“I fucked up.” Hawk pulled in a breath. “I shouldn’t be around kids; it’s not safe.”
Rather than grabbing her son and backing away, Kit moved closer. “I don’t understand.”
Jesus.
“Hawk.” Caz sat down on the picnic table within reach. “What happened, ’mano?”
Brother. That wasn’t a word he was worthy of.
Kit deserved an explanation; they all did. Yeah, get it out, asshole. “I yelled at Aric. Grabbed him too rough. Scared the shit out of him. I’ll leave; don’t worry, I’ll—”
“No.” Aric had both arms around Hawk’s neck now. “No.”
Kit’s frown deepened. “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you yell. What made you shout at Aric?”
“It’s not his fault,” Hawk said. “I was wrong to—”
“Rachel took my toy, and I t’rowed stuff. Books. At her.” The tiny voice was so unhappy.
Hawk felt tears on his neck. “No, Aric, it’s—”
“I yelled too,” Aric said. “Am I bad?”
Oh, holy fuck. “Jesus, boy, no. No, you’re just a kid, and hell, you shouldn’t throw things. We talked about that, yeah?”
There was an up and down movement. Aric’s face was still pressed against Hawk’s neck.
“You’re not bad. Kids can’t be bad. Like it’s a law or something.”