19
HAWK
Morning breaks.I haven’t slept.But I lay in my bed all last night and tried.Dawn breaks, and I shower.
Coffee.
Lots of coffee.
And then I get back into my truck—I swear I fucking live in the thing lately—and drive to the hospital.
Eagle.
He was trying to tell me something—Dad and D-D-D—before the nurse sedated him.I’ve replayed it a hundred times, that stutter catching on a letter that won’t cooperate.The only D I can think of—besides Dad, which it may very well be—is the same one that keeps crawling out of his grave.
Diego Vega.
I park in the parking lot because I don’t want to have to wait for the valet when I leave, and I take the stairs two at a time because the elevators seem too slow this morning.
I should look in on my father while I’m here.Of course, then I risk running into Grace, the nurse on his floor who I’ve ghosted.
Except she’s not the real reason I don’t look in on Austin Bellamy.
The truth is I don’t want to see him.
At the nurses’ station on Eagle’s floor, a woman in soft blue scrubs looks up.I haven’t seen her before.She’s got a dimple on only one cheek.It’s unique.Attractive.Does nothing for me.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m just going in to see my brother.”
She types on her keyboard.“And your brother is?”
“Eagle Bellamy.I’ve been here before.Yesterday.”
She checks a chart.“He’s awake.He needs calm.No agitation.”She raises her eyebrows.
“Yeah, I get it.Like I said, I was here yesterday.And, also like I said, he’s my brother.”
She looks me up and down, her lips pursed slightly.“If his heart rate spikes, I come in and I end the visit.Understood?”
“Of course I understand.”I resist an eyeroll.“Is my mother with him?”
“Mrs.Bellamy hasn’t visited yet today.”
“Okay.See you.”
Eagle is propped up, pale against the sheets, eyes half-lidded.The monitor next to him ticks off his heartbeats.
“Hey, E,” I say.
“Hawk.You’re back.”His voice cracks a little.
I drag the chair closer.“It’s the next morning.You got overwhelmed last night.A nurse gave you the pharmaceutical equivalent of a brick to the head.”
He blinks slowly.“Oh?”
“Yeah.”I lean in.“You were trying to tell me something.”
