Hawk backed away. Crying. Fuck no. There should be a law or something—no crying around him. “No problem.”
Words exhausted, he walked out.
In the living room, Bull and Frankie watched him.
When Bull smiled, Hawk considered planting a fist in his brother’s face. “Let’s get that fucking chair.”
As Kit closed the door of her bedroom, she heard the men talking in the living room. Bull had an incredibly deep voice. Hawk’s was almost as deep, but with a gravelly, harsh timbre.
Such different men. Bull was open, friendly, and completely straightforward. He reminded her of a wide, slow-moving river so clear one could see the sparkling stones in the depths.
Hawk was more like a mountain glacier. Slow-moving and unstoppable. Hiding everything submerged within the ice, yet with unexpected sparkling waterfalls.
And so very, very deep.
When he’d seen she couldn’t rise without help, he’d offered his hand. And scared her.
Obadiah had considered her fear a prize. Not Hawk. There had been pain in his blue-gray eyes when she cringed. She’d hurt him.
And so, she’d found her courage.
She couldn’t blame herself for being frightened of any man, really. But Hawk…talk about intimidating.
He had dark blond hair, cut short, and a trim beard outlined his lean, hard jawline. He moved like…like he was ready for a fight at any moment, and he’d obviously been in a few. The reddish tan of his fair skin contrasted with a long white scar across his forehead and one on his neck. Another scar ran down his cheek into his mustache and was deep enough it pulled his top lip up into a slight sneer.
Rolled-up shirtsleeves had exposed his tattooed forearms. And was it bad that she kind of wanted to look at the tats that were different shades of brown? To see what he’d chosen. There’d been a plane on one forearm and…
Snoopy much, Kit?
She had to laugh because…yes? Maybe she was quieter than her bestie, but people were interesting. However, unlike Frankie, she preferred them in ones or twos rather than a crowd.
And she preferred a fair amount of alone time.
Smiling slightly, she moved around the bedroom, savoring that she had a place for her and Aric. She’d never realized how wonderful privacy could be until the months of living in the PZ women’s barracks. During the days, she’d worked in the fields and gardens, cleaned Obadiah’s small house, and joined the women in cooking.
In the evenings, after slaking his needs on her body, her husband would send her back to the barracks since Reverend Parrish denounced letting a female get too close. Heaven forbid a man should love his wife or show her any tenderness. She was put on the earth solely to serve his needs and bear his children.
In her head, the counselor’s voice whispered, “Is that what you believe, Kit?”
“No,” Kit whispered back. No, it’s not.
She’d been a fool.
Or maybe misguided would be more accurate. Her parents had loved her and each other. It was their example she needed to follow.
Not the example of her aunt and uncle who’d taken her in after Mom and Dad died. Uncle Duane would’ve joined the PZs in a heartbeat. They’d been a cold, mean-spirited couple.
Now she knew that while trying to win their love and approval, she’d opened herself up to their belief that a woman wasn’t complete without a man.
She sure didn’t believe their idiocy any longer…because she’d learned she was far, far better off without a man.
The sliding groan of his bedroom door snapped Hawk out of sleep. Silently, he put his hand under his pillow and…found nothing.
Shit, right. He’d mounted his pistol in a nightstand gun safe three weeks ago. Because of the kid. Silently, he leaned over, started to touch the fingerprint scanner and—
He narrowed his eyes.
The person in the doorway was short.
Really fucking short.
“Aric.” His voice came out harsher than normal, as if he’d spent two days smoking bad tobacco and drinking rotgut.
The kid wasn’t scared at the sound. Never had been.
Aric came closer, as silent as Caz was when hunting. The kid didn’t speak.
Hawk almost laughed. As a kid, he’d been as uncommunicative—and had annoyed the hell out of his brothers and Mako.
“Your mama okay?”
The gray twilight showed the boy’s nod. He didn’t look frightened or anxious.
Doc Grayson had warned that any deviation in Aric’s life might have him regressing, which was Grayson’s fancy-ass-shrink way of saying the boy would get clingy again.
Because, when scared, he ran to Hawk like a baby bird hiding under its parent’s wing.
Understandable, but…damn. “Kid, your mom’s going to have a shi—uh, will be upset you’re not in bed.” Hawk scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to wake up. Could hardly send the squirt hiking back by himself. He stood up and made the gesture for ride. “Let’s go.”
Although Aric’s mouth flattened—the kid could be righteously stubborn—he let Hawk haul him up and set him on his hip.
Outside, a brightening of the dusk indicated the first hint of sunrise, which meant it was closing in on 4:30 or so. The dew-moistened grass in the courtyard was cold on his bare feet. As they crossed to Bull’s house next door, a light breeze rustled the rushes on the lake shore and reminded Hawk he hadn’t put on a damn shirt, either.
The deck door was unlocked. Before Hawk had walked halfway across the living area, his brother slid open the upstairs bedroom door.
Leaning on the railing, Bull looked down.
None of the brothers slept heavy. Not that Hawk had tried to be especially quiet.
Hawk tilted his head at Aric who was half asleep already and shrugged.
Bull let out a snort, shook his head, and disappeared into his room. Because he had a warm, loving woman in his bed.
Envy was a familiar ache in Hawk’s chest. He’d never have a wife and kids.
Instead of stewing, he headed down the narrow hallway beneath the second floor. The guest bedroom door was open, and he stopped in the doorway.
Kit was sleeping on her undamaged right side. Her long, streaky-brown hair lay loose over her pillow. Her splinted arm was on another pillow, her other arm stretched out toward Aric’s empty cot.
A pang ran through Hawk at the sight, at the knowledge that even in her sleep, she’d wanted to touch her son.
He took a step forward and stopped. Going into a woman’s room wouldn’t be a smart move.
Hawk silently set the boy down, pointed to Aric’s chest, then the bed. He leaned against the doorframe to wait.
Of course, on the way to his cot, the kid bumped into his mother’s bed.
Kit sat up in a rush, looked around in obvious fear, and spotted Hawk in the doorway. Her breath drew in audibly.
“Brought your kid back,” he grated out before she could scream the house down. “He showed up in my room.”
Her hands were clenched on the bed covers, her eyes wide. After a long moment, she pulled in a breath. “Hawk.”
Yeah, her brain had booted up. Her gaze dropped to her son who was crawling onto his cot. “Aric, did you go over to Hawk’s house?”
The kid nodded.
Honest kid. A guy had to appreciate that.