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Shooter rubbed a hand over his stubble. “I’ll go back,” he vowed. “But… she’s mad at me. I mean, pissed as hell.” He frowned and looked across the large room, as though it was a distance he’d never be able to cross. “I lost her,” he said quietly. “I fought like hell to keep her alive and in the end I lost her in a different way.” He seemed almost afraid to speak out loud. Hawk shifted uncomfortably in his own chair. Shooter was never afraid of anything- not even death. It seemed committing yourself to a woman and a child could change all that, make the toughest, hardest man afraid.
Hawk put his large hand on his friend’s shoulder. “The baby’s looking good, they said. Better than they thought. She’ll be okay, and Slick’ll come back. She’ll understand you did what you had to do.”
“I’ve never seen her look at me like that before.”
“You’re staying together,” Hawk declared. “The two of you, nothing can break you up. Nothing has; nothing will. She’s just scared- same as you- only she doesn’t want to be scared, doesn’t want to think about the baby being in danger. So she’d rather be pissed at you, instead.” Hawk nudged him and smiled. “You can take it.”
Shooter looked over at him.
“Your woman’s pretty scary,” Hawk admitted. “She’s a lot of sass in a little, tiny package. But you can handle her being pissed at you, because she’s not really mad, not in her heart. She’s terrified. And she’s just dealing with it the only way she can.”
The corner of Shooter’s mouth quirked up. “She is very bossy.”
“Worse than a Drill Sergeant,” Hawk concurred.
“And mouthy,” Shooter added.
“Oh, yeah.”
“God, I love her.”
“You’re in it for the long haul,” Hawk replied. “You two are forever.”
“You think so?”
Hawk nodded. “I’m counting on it.”
Shooter frowned at him. “What do you mean?”
Hawk hesitated then reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a small, red velvet box that looked tiny in his large hand. Shooter blinked at it. Vegas gasped.
“Because if you two can’t make it, then I haven’t got a chance,” said Hawk.
“Holy…” Easy started but seemed to remember that they were in public and held back the less polite portions of his sentiment.
“I love her,” Hawk declared quietly. “What you felt when Slick was in danger, I felt that when I couldn’t find Tildy. Like you can’t breathe. Like it’ll all end if she does. Took a long time to admit that I don’t want to be without her.” He looked down at the small box in his palm. “She’ll make a better wife than I will a husband. That’s for sure. I’m hoping she loves me enough to put up with me forever.”
“I do.”
Hawk turned to see Tildy, coffee tray in hand, staring down at him.
“Think you’re skipping ahead,” Easy teased her, but she didn’t seem to notice.
Hawk cursed himself silently and stood up. He looked down awkwardly at the box and then back to Tildy. “Damn,” he sighed. “This was not how I wanted it to go. We had dinner reservations, dessert, flowers. I was going to do it right.”
Tildy shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “You did.”
“No,” he insisted. “Damn it. You deserve better. If I can’t get the proposal right, how’s the marriage going to be?”
Tildy set the tray of drinks on the only empty seat and stepped toward him. “I would have liked dessert and flowers,” she told him.
Hawk shook his head, angry at himself.
“But this is better,” she said. “Our family’s here. And they need something good right now.”
As always, Hawk was touched by her spirit. She put everyone else first. Tildy was a good woman, good in a way that he was damned lucky to have. He didn’t worry about cheating on her anymore. He may not be the best husband, but he’d never stray. How could he look at someone else without comparing them to her? No one was like Tildy. He loved her, made love to her. Every time he was inside her and looking into her eyes, he saw himself the way she saw him- worthy. He could never have that with anyone else.
“Well, it may not be perfect,” Hawk declared, “but I can get some of it right.” He went down on one knee and opened the box.
