“Can we sit?”he asks.“Sit down and tell me exactly what has gone on.”
I cross my arms.“If you’d answered my texts, you’d know.”
“I’m sorry.”
I sigh again.I can’t keep harping on my anger at him.It’s counterproductive.Right now, all that matters is Belinda’s safety.That we get her home where she belongs.
I lead Hawk to the lush living room where we sit on the couch.I don’t reach for him, though I want to.I simply begin the story.
“I got home and wanted to see Belinda,” I begin.“I felt guilty because I haven’t spent much time with her lately, so I knocked on her door and she didn’t answer.”
“Okay.”
“I thought that was odd because she’s never asleep that early.So I knocked again and called for her.And nothing.I went in.Her bed was still made.I checked the bathroom.The closet.”My lip trembles.“I even glanced under the bed.”
“Under the bed?”
I nod.“She once told me she used to hide under the bed when she still lived with her father.”A chill runs down my spine.“He always found her though.”
“Fuck…” he says.
“I know.But she was safe here.And happy.”A tear slips down my cheek and I wipe it away before Hawk can.“At least I thought she was.”
“She was.”
“So I scoured the house and eventually had to interrupt Vinnie and Raven.”
“Interrupt them?”
“They were in their bedroom.”
He holds up his hand, his nose wrinkled.“Okay, understood.No more details necessary.”
“Yeah.I felt bad, but not that bad.I didn’t—don’t—care about anything but Belinda.”
Hawk’s hand hovers near my arm, hesitant, like he’s afraid to touch me.“Dani,” he says quietly.“I’m sorry.I should’ve been here.”
I don’t look at him.“That doesn’t help me now.”
He exhales hard.“I know.”His eyes are full of guilt, and of something softer, but I can’t bear either.
“Please don’t,” I say.“Don’t try to make this better.You can’t.”
He runs a hand through his hair.“I’m not trying to make it better.I just— God, Dani, I should’ve answered.”
I finally meet his eyes.“You think?Belinda’s gone.DHS showed up at the door.You went dark.I thought you were dead, or done with me, or both.”
He reaches toward me.“I wasn’t done.I’ll never be done.”
“Then where the hell were you?”
He clears his throat.“At the old barn.”
“You didn’t check your phone?”I bite out.
“Service is spotty there.Sometimes it’s great, and sometimes there’s nothing.”
Am I supposed to believe that?
