I'm not entirely sure where or how to fit this new facet into place. He's supposed to be easy to dislike, just another asshole athlete who does what he wants and doesn't give a shit how it impacts anyone else. Except…that's not who he is. I'm not sure it ever was.
He turns to me after a moment, a soft smile on his face that has my heart thumping a little bit harder. "Serena, this is Dawson, Anthony, Julie, Lucinda, Mark, and Olivia. Guys, this is my girlfriend, Serena."
"Girlfriend?" I sputter, nearly choking. "I do not remember agreeing to that."
"It was in fine print," he says, deadpan.
"Do not make me hide your body tonight, Austin Hawkes. I'm not dressed properly to get away with murder. Besides, carrying your big ass body looks exhausting."
He just raises a brow, like he's not even going to dignify my threat with a response.
Dawson wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, laughing. "She's got a mouth on her, man. Good luck."
"Don't I know it?" Austin flashes me a look that's all heat and mischief.
Anthony sits hunched and silent, the food untouched in his lap, while the others laugh.
Austin notices, his brows furrowing. "You doing okay tonight, Anthony?"
"Yeah." The old man's voice is barely a whisper, but he meets Austin's gaze for a minute, his eyes clearer than they have been all night, and I wonder how he ended up here. He could be someone's grandfather. Instead, he's out here, barely hanging on. It's devastating.
"You sticking around for a bit?" Julie, the woman with a torn coat, asks into the silence.
Austin shakes his head. "Just wanted to bring dinner. You guys got everything you need? The kitchen taking care of you?"
Julie hesitates, her gaze darting to her foot. "Hurt my foot," she mutters. "Can't afford to go to the clinic."
Austin's gaze drifts to her foot and then back to her. "Go to the clinic tomorrow, Julie. Tell them I sent you. I'll cover it."
Her eyes grow damp, but she just nods. "Thanks, Austin."
He turns to me, his expression soft. "Ready to head out, princess?"
I nod, but I don't move right away. I linger, watching the small circle of people as they eat, the edges of their hunger blunted for one rare night. No one thanks me or really even looks at me, and I like it that way. I like that they know Austin, not me. I like that I'm just a bystander, here because he's the kind of guy willing to drop over a grand on fancy steak for people who need the kindness more than most.
I didn't expect it. I think, maybe, I wanted to prove that he was the asshole I expected. But he's not. I like being wrong about him far more than is good for me.
We say goodbye and retrace our steps through the thicket of trees, the air heavy with the smell of rain on dead grass. I'm quiet until we hit the parking lot, and then I can't take it anymore.
"How do you know them?" I blurt, spinning to look at Austin.
He glances down at me, a streetlight catching in his gorgeous eyes. "I run a soup kitchen not far from here," he says, like it's just a thing people do in their spare time.Except…it's not. Most people don't even volunteer at soup kitchens in their spare time, let alone run them. "Opened it not long after I got traded to DC."
I stop in my tracks. "You run a soup kitchen?"
He shrugs like it's not a big deal. "Some of the guys from the team help out. Most don't." He smirks, guiding me forward with his hands on my hips, like he can't help touching me. "People look at them and see a problem," he adds quietly. "I look, and I see people. Any one of us is just a few bad days or bad decisions from walking a mile in their shoes. Helping out reminds me that it doesn't matter what I have if I'm not doing something that matters with it. It helps me keep my head screwed on straight."
My heart slams against my ribcage when I see the way he's looking at me, like maybe he's nervous about how I'll take this side of him that's soft and secret. Maybe he's never let anyone see it before.
"You're an interesting man, Austin Hawkes," I say instead of teasing him.
He backs me up against the side of his truck, both hands settling on my waist. The way he holds me makes me feel so fucking small and priceless, like he could crush me if he wanted to do it, but the thought has never even crossed his mind.
"I try to do my part to make sure they have dignity," he says. "Respect. Warm food when I can. It's the right thing to do when you make as much fucking money as I do. Thatdoesn't make me a hero, princess. It just makes me a guy with too much money, trying to do the right thing with it."
I stare at him for a long time, not sure what to do with all the feelings surging through me. He's not supposed to be this good. He's supposed to be an asshole, a jerk who ruins lives for his own amusement. He's not supposed to actually give a shit. And yet…he does.
"Can I help?"
