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I watched the two of them exchange looks that meant something to them. From one man to another.
I put my hands on my hips. I wasn’t a piece of dowry property to be handed over. “Ok. Let’s go, Hawk.” I tugged on his arm. “Daddy, I’ll call you later.”
I pecked him on the cheek. Hunter was waiting for us at the door.
He looked up with innocent eyes. “Where do I live now? Are you taking me to the group home?”
I wanted to tell him, but Hawk was the one who had made this happen. I couldn’t take credit for something I’d never been able to do. I had tried. I had cried. But I couldn’t give this to Hunter—Hawk did.
He stooped down to the floor to speak to Hunter directly. His knees grazed the hardwood. “You get to go home with me. How does that sound?”
I knew it was shock and disbelief that kept Hunter from making a sound. He stared at Hawk. I moved to the floor.
“Honey, it’s a lot to take in, but you get to live with Kane now. Isn’t that good news?”
“Really?” His voice was small, but I was relieved he had finally spoken.
“Really. How about we head over there now and you can pick out your room?” Hawk offered.
“My own room?”
I tried to keep the tears from rushing forward. This poor sweet child. I doubted he had ever had anything of his own that he could remember.
Hawk rose from the floor, offering me his hand. “Let’s get out of here. We have a lot to talk about.”
My fingers fit through his perfectly. I sighed.
And that’s how we left the courthouse. Hand in hand. Taking Hunter home.
31
Kane
Forty-five minutes later we were staring at each other inside my loft apartment. Hunter didn’t have anything to bring with him except a torn backpack full of clothes that were too small for his growing frame.
I knew that was the first thing we had to take care of. Well, that and then I needed to order some groceries. It wasn’t like I was stocked to take care of a kid. I had plenty of beer, but I was pretty sure I was supposed to have shit like juice and milk.
Hunter walked back and forth between the downstairs guestroom and the one that was at the top of the loft.
I didn’t push him toward one room. Neither did Julie. He was probably compiling his own reasons why each room should be his.
He inspected the closets, the bathroom space, and looked under the beds. We stood back while he investigated each one.
“Hey, bud. You don’t have to choose one right now. You can take some time and sleep in each one if you want,” I offered.
He ignored me and walked back and forth, running up the stairs, counting under his breath.
“I think he needs his own space,” Julie whispered. “He needs something that feels permanent even if he’s too young to be able to put that in words.”
“Makes sense,” I agreed.
Finally, he made an announcement. “I want the upstairs room.”
“It’s yours.” I found some sort of triumph in that. I had given this kid something. I didn’t know I was capable of giving anything, but the last few weeks had changed that.
Hunter had changed it. Julie had changed it. The bastard who only looked out for himself was suddenly looking out for other people.
The boy took the sack of ragged clothes, ran up the stairs, and started pulling open dresser drawers in one of the chests. Everything was stained or torn. It only took three drawers before the bag was empty. Julie was by my side.
