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“It’s not pity. It’s empathy.” I reached over, placing my hand over his. He twitched under my palm but didn’t pull away. “Everyone’s had pain in their life, Hawk. Some more than others. Expressing that pain isn’t a weakness. And someone showing compassion for your pain isn’t pity. It’s comfort. It’s caring.”
His mask settled on his face. I was certain he wouldn’t share anymore about his parents. “What about other family members?”
He shook his head. “No siblings either. An uncle I don’t consider an uncle. That’s it.”
“You have Stephen,” I said. “And John.”
He looked up in surprise. “They’re friends.”
“I consider Mae my family, even though we’re not related. You make your own family in life. It has nothing to do with blood.”
“What’s your definition of family then?”
“Someone you love. It could be brotherly love.”
He seemed to ponder over my words for a moment.
“And,” I said, “someone you can talk to and trust with your secrets.”
He shook his head, his eyes etched with harshness. “They’re not family.”
I had a feeling Hawk didn’t trust anyone with his secrets. He had no one to talk to or turn to when he was in pain. Mae had said he barely spoke during therapy. Even if they were fake sessions in his mind, he could have used that time to unload some of the pain and worry he’d been hanging onto. But he hadn’t.
My heart ached for him. I wanted to know more about Hawk. What had happened to make him so closed off? How could there not be a single person he trusted?
But I shook the questions out of my mind. This weekend was about getting over our mutual obsession. Not about getting to know each other.
