9
HAWK
I plunkmyself down on the couch in my man cave.
I’m exhausted—more so mentally but physically as well.It’s not like a day working the ranch, but I did drag the cocaine into my house, flush it all down the toilet, and then clean my bathroom to a shine.After that, I detailed the inside of my truck, getting rid of any stray grain of coke.
And now I sit here.
With some self-loathing.
If I had thought to do all of this yesterday, Eagle might be awake and well.
Yes, in the end, Eagle’s actions are his own, but I’m the one who left a trail of breadcrumbs.
And I’m the only one in our family who knows that Eagle hasn’t been clean for eight years.That he’s fallen off the wagon several times and gone through rehab.
Then he showed up freaking out about Dad the other day.
I should have been the one to see this coming.
I sigh again.I can’t think about Eagle anymore.All it does is make me feel worse.
So I go back to Ted Tucker.
Always kind, always gentle.
A stark contrast to my father and his strong hand.I don’t remember ever hugging him.
* * *
Fifteen Years Earlier…
The box is dented, the board warped at the edges, but since Ted and I started playing, Monopoly has become my favorite board game, replacing Scrabble.I spread the pieces across the kitchen table while Ted sets his black coffee on a coaster and gives me a grin.
“Don’t go easy on me,” I say.
He raises a brow.“Wouldn’t dream of it, Hawk.”
I’m twelve.Too old to be babied.Ted respects that.He treats me like an equal when we play.
Ted’s not family, but he’s here more than most.Always in a button-down shirt, even on Saturdays.Always bringing my dad papers and quiet reminders about calls or meetings.But today, he’s just Ted—playing Monopoly with the boss’s middle kid like it actually matters.
I’ve learned a ton from him, but the dice aren’t moving my way today.Pretty soon Ted has a monopoly on the oranges and three houses on each.I land on New York Avenue and groan.
“Five fifty,” he says, sipping his coffee.
“Seriously?”I stare at my stack of money.It’s enough, but barely.“You’re going to charge me the full amount?”
“That’s the game.”
I slide the bills across the table.
He takes them, counts them out.“You told me not to go easy on you.”
He’s right.I did.Still… “You’re ruthless.”
He chuckles.“No, I’m consistent.”
