“Let her come where?”a voice asks from behind me.
Hawke’s hair is wet from a shower as he wipes his head with a towel, entering the kitchen in a pair of sweats.“To the event last night,” I answer.“You still want to spar or what?”
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
I look him up and down.“Then, why are you wet?”
“Needed a shower first.”
“Why?”
“What are you?A detective?"
“Someone’s touchy,” Cobie quips.
She’s right.He is, which means he’s hiding something.The question is, what is it?
“I still had face paint on from last night,” Hawke explains.
Last night?What the hell is he talking about?
“Where’ve you been?”I ask.
“Just got home.”
“Yeah, I figured out that much when you said you still had the face paint on from last night.”My eyes narrow.“Where were you?”
He shakes his head and covers his yawn with his hand.The damp towel lands in a plop on the counter.“Seriously, what’s with the fifty questions?”
I scowl back at the secretive bastard before turning to our baby sister.“Say what you want about me, but at least I actually answer your questions.”
“Except the ones about last night’s haul,” she retorts, unamused in the slightest.
Damn.The girl makes a good point.
Ignoring her, I turn back to Hawke.“Where’s Jagger?”
“He’s already in the gym with Rome,” Cobie answers behind me.“They’ve been waiting for you two.Wanted to catch up on last night.”
“What about last night?”I ask.
She rolls her eyes.“Will you stop looking at me like I’m the enemy and go lift weights or something?You’re throwing off my morning routine.”She shoves another bite of ice cream into her mouth and starts to fit the little earbud into her ear again.
“That’s not breakfast,” Hawke says, distracting her.
With a glare, she places the earpiece into place.Her middle finger raises into the air, and she points it at both of us before heading into the family room without a backward glance.
Once she’s out of sight, Hawke slaps my shoulder and twists me toward the gym.“Come on.I need to hit something.”
31
FORD
My chest heaves as I jump rope in the corner of the gym while Hawke throws another jab-cross combo at Jagger.He blocks the hits, taking each one in stride before offering his own retribution with a quick kick to Hawke’s outer thigh.From the outside looking in, you’d think Jagger’s the only real fighter in the family, but we’ve all taken our turn in the ring.Jagger’s the one who does it recreationally.I do it to burn off my energy.Roman does it to fight his demons.And Hawke?Hawke does it to bury them.
By the time we’re all dripping in sweat, Jagger raises his hand and grabs his water from the edge of the mat while Hawke reaches for a towel from the cabinet so he can wipe up some of his perspiration.
“Looks like you need another shower,” I joke.
