I don’t intend to sleep with Cole, those dreamy eyes of his be damned. I only want to be distracted for a while. I want to go on a date, dress up, feel light and joyful and beautiful for just a brief moment.
The depth of that need surprises and embarrasses me.
“So, you like Cole or what?” Hawk asks me in a low-pitched tone.
Good. A chance to clear the air.
“I don’t know him well enough. He seems nice,” I say diplomatically.
“But you’d like to know him better?”
“I guess?”
Hawk huffs and then mutters, “That’s what I get for listening to others.”
My stomach knots. What is he trying to say?
My temples start throbbing.
Hawk pulls into the garage, and I almost run out of the car. I can’t bear seeing the disappointment in his eyes, but at the same time, I’m furious with him.
The intensity of the conflicting feelings is startling.
Who the fuck does he think he is, judging me, a woman who’s trying to move on after having had the carpet yanked out from underneath her at such a vulnerable time in her life?
“Marissa!” Hawk calls after me.
I ignore him and move deeper into the house. My head is pounding.
“Where are you going?”
I don’t turn to look at him.
“I need to go get DJ from Molly, they're at the clubhouse playground,” I recite in a cold voice.
“I thought we were talking,” he says softly.
“Oh, were we?” I ask sarcastically.
I finally turn to look at him. He looks amused.
That makes me even angrier, so I continue, “I must not have realized. Surprise! The stupid, poor single mother charity case you took in despite everyone telling you not to has trouble following a conversation.”
Hawk’s head jerks back. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You said, That’s what I get for listening to others. Don’t worry, I won’t be bringing Cole here. I keep my word, but you have no right to criticize me for wanting to go on a date, for wanting some semblance of life for myself, outside of being a mom. I’m only 28!” My voice breaks on the last words, and I grab the doorknob to finalize my escape, but Hawk steps closer to me, and I feel his warm hand on mine.
“Baby, hey,” he pleads in almost a whisper. “Please, look at me, Marissa.”
I reluctantly turn towards him. The tears make his whole face look soft and blurry.
I’m essentially trapped between the front door and his big body, but it doesn’t make me panic. Quite the opposite.
Hawk hugs me, and I’m reminded of the day he helped me move. I wrap my arms around his waist and listen to his heartbeat for a few soothing minutes before he finally speaks again.
“All that stuff you said about yourself… Did I make you think that?”
I take a moment to reflect on the last few months from the safety of his arms.
