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I wipe my mouth and then the tears from my eyes. I need to tell Hawk about this. I’m sick. A stomach bug or something. This is exhausting. My brain is fuzzy, the room spinning.
But I don’t want to talk to him. I was told not to call my mom, not to call anybody, but I need to talk to Dorothy. I don’t feel so hot, and I need my best friend.
Need to tell her about what happened, about Hawk, about everything. I feel like I’m caught in a surreal dream.
No knock comes from the door, so I take my time to get up, wash my face and rinse the sourness from my mouth.
He said he wants me to be his girl. Am I supposed to believe him? He said he likes me, but not that he loves me.
Not like I love him.
Is it enough, that he likes me, and wants me? A man like him. Rich, handsome, smart, sexy. A modern prince.
But I’m no Cinderella, and to be honest, I was always kind of sad for the girl in the fairy tale. Love is more than that, more than a spark and a smile. Love is a low burning fire that never goes out. Love is everything.
And I’ve had enough of doubting and needing, of wanting and not having with this man. I want to go home. I can’t think when I’m around him. My body craves him too much.
I crave him. Not sure I can breathe without him anymore.
Yep. Scary.
Cracking the bathroom door open, I slip inside the bedroom. Hawk is sitting on the bed, hunched over, elbows planted on his knees, pale hair hiding his face. He’s naked, but doesn’t seem to mind Rook standing in front of him, talking to him.
Walking back into the bathroom, I grab a bathrobe hanging from a hook on the wall and cinch it with the belt at the waist. My stomach churns. Nausea teases my senses.
Taking a deep breath, I step out again.
“Storm says your hearing aid will be here by tomorrow. Why didn’t you tell us anything, man? Do you have any idea how bad it sucks to find such a thing out at the police station, after agreeing to let you go on that moronic suicide mission?”
“It changed nothing,” Hawk mutters, and the weariness in his voice makes my heart pound. I want to go to him but hang back. “If they hadn’t smashed my watch, you’d have received the signal in time.”
“But Sandivar smashed it. He smelled a rat.”
“He’s not stupid.”
Rook shrugs his broad shoulders and rubs the back of his head. “I shouldn’t have agreed to it.”
“I got names. It was worth it.”
Rook nods at me. “Come down to eat when you’re ready, both of you. You have to regain your strength. This may not be over yet.”
Rook. He was the one who called me last month to tell me Hawk had been in an accident. He also accused me of fucking around with Hawk.
For some strange reason, his form is blurring in my eyes.
“They don’t know where we are,” Hawk says, glancing at me. “You okay, babe?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Sure.”
But the room is tilting off kilter, and everything is dimming. I put my hand against the wall for support, until the floor stops sliding, and I’m vaguely aware of Rook and Hawk moving toward me.
Then it all goes black.
***
Light seeps through my lashes. When I blink, I get a view of gray flannel. A gray flannel-covered thigh.
It shifts, and something touches my hair. A hand.
