“Thanks,” I say as I let myself sink into the support.
I could cry at the relief of his strong, steady arms.
“I figured we could eat lunch together.”
My face must be showing exactly what I’m thinking, because he adds, “It’s soup. Doc said you need to up your fluid intake.”
I want to whine, But I’m not hungry!, and it surprises me. Where the hell is the brattiness coming from?
It’s not like I’m someone who’s used to being spoiled rotten. Hell, even after giving birth to a whole 9-pound baby or being kidnapped, no one has fussed over me the way this man is doing because of the common cold.
Hawk hands me a bowl of steaming tomato soup, and we start eating in silence. My insides are gradually warming up. Every time I look at him, he gives me an encouraging smile and nods at my bowl, urging me to eat more.
The kindness and care crack my heart open. Like a pomegranate that’s dropped on a tile floor, and all its brilliant insides start spilling out.
A few tears ripple the surface of my soup, and before I know it, I’m bawling. Then, the bowl is gone from my hands, andI’m haphazardly arranged on Hawk’s lap, soaking his work shirt with snot and tears.
I cry loudly and helplessly, the way DJ does when he’s upset but knows I’m there to comfort him.
“Feel better?” Hawk asks me when my sobs die down, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
I play with his lanyard as he strokes my hair.
“I do. This helped. Thank you.”
“Happy to be of service.”
“When do you have to go back to work?”
“Not for a while,” he says, and I relax into his arms.
When I wake up, the clock reads 7, but I don’t know if it’s AM or PM. My head is clear, my joints stiff but no longer achy.
I take my pills, pee, wash my face and brush my gross teeth, then run a comb through my hair.
As I gingerly walk downstairs, I hear Hawk talking to DJ, and then he sings a bit. His pitch is awful, and I stifle a laugh. I’m secretly thrilled that there is something that he doesn’t do well.
“And now you need to sleep. We have to be good for Mama, okay? She’s ill today, and she needs to rest.”
“Hey, you guys,” I announce my presence, and DJ starts babbling like crazy at the sight of me. “Oh, I missed you, too,” I tell him as I take him into my arms. “We should get you some dinner.”
“He’s already eaten,” Hawk tells me matter-of-factly. “Mashed potatoes and a few slices of avocado. I offered him some salmon, but he refused. He then had his bottle, brushed his teeth, and we were about to go get his jammies. No bath, I don’t think I’ve graduated to that yet.”
“How…”
“We’ve lived together for a while now. I watch his routine every day,” Hawk tells me, sounding almost offended. “Now, thanks to our nosy neighbours, we have a pot of chicken noodle soup, a pan of lasagna, and two casseroles in the fridge, so I’ll reheat whichever one you’d like for your dinner.”
I frown. “What neighbors?”
“Molly told Dana, Doc told Red, Red told Bev, Bev told everyone. About you being sick,” he explains.
“And they brought food?”
“Of course,” he frowns. “That’s what people do, isn’t it?”
As Hawk walks around the kitchen, I notice that he is wearing his gym shorts. His thighs are massive.
He looks so… powerful. While heating up soup in the microwave.
