Hawke

by Sawyer Bennett

  She's not giving me the cold shoulder exactly, but she's not engaging either. In fact, she steps up closer to the machine, more to Max's front so he can see her and says, "Let's bump the speed up to nine for another sixty seconds and then we're done."

  Max nods and Vale pushes at the button several times to up the speed.

  I grit my teeth, trying to figure out just where we stand. The obvious thing would be to just ask her, but fuck if I'll do that. Especially not with Max in the room. So I push my speed up, break into a jog, and concentrate on running.

  By the time Max is slowing to a walk, I'm on an eight-minute mile pace, which is just perfect for a short run to warm up. Max removes the mask and hands it to Vale, who sanitizes it and packs it away. She stands next to him, going over the results in low murmured tones. He asks her a few questions, she responds, and then he's heading out of the workout room.

  Perfect.

  Except Vale walks out right behind him and my opportunity for conversation, surely stilted, starts to wither away.

  "Hey," I call out as my hand hits the Pause button. I'm hopping off before the belt comes to a full stop. "Wait."

  Vale stops dead and turns to look at me curiously. "What's up?"

  I walk up to her, a glance to the open doorway of the locker room revealing it's empty. When I come to within a foot, I lean in a bit closer just in case someone's lurking. "Want me to pick you up after your training session...grab some dinner and we'll head to the hospital together?"

  What in the ever-loving fuck am I doing?

  Vale blinks at me in surprise, but then schools her features into a bland mask of ambiguity. "Um...thanks, but I think I'll just head over there myself. But maybe I'll see you there."

  A fucking brush-off, and now my hackles rise.

  "What the hell is going on here, Vale?" I grit out, stepping in closer.

  Her eyes flash hot but her tone is calm. "What do you mean what's going on?"

  "Last night, you're clinging to me in desperation, accepting of the great fucking I gave you, and today it's the cold shoulder."

  Vale gasps in outrage but doesn't respond, instead spinning to leave. I reach out and grab her arm, spinning her back my way. She jerks loose, and rather than fleeing again, she steps up to me and pokes me in the chest. "You might be right, I may have been clinging to you last night in desperation, and yeah, that was a great fucking, but I seem to remember you're the one that jetted out this morning faster than lightning."

  "I had to get to practice," I say lamely.

  "You had to escape me and your feelings," she sneers. "Don't deny it. I saw it written all over your face while you were giving me that good fucking. You may have given me your dick, but that's all you gave me last night, and that part really, really sucked."

  I'm the one who blinks in surprise now that she was actually that perceptive. I figured she was caught up in the passion of it all, the escapism. I didn't think she was reading me that clearly. Which is stupid, now that I think about it. Of course Vale would read me clearly. She knows me better than practically anyone.

  I try to come up with an excuse but it's equally as lame. "Come on, Vale...we have a history...a bad one."

  "No, Hawke," she seethes in anger. "We have a great history. We had one bad moment. But it's clear that's never going to be forgiven, so let's just call a spade a spade and realize that you and I are not meant to be."

  Why those words almost cause my knees to buckle is beyond me, but I push that aside. This is getting way off the track I had hoped to take. I put my hands on her shoulders and rub my thumbs back and forth in an attempt to calm her.

  Her voice cracks and my heart aches over the misery in her eyes. "I know what you think...that last night was just a hookup, some 'random' to get our rocks off. But it wasn't like that for me. I was all in, and whether you believe it or not, you're the only man I've ever let into my body without protection."

  I'm stunned to complete inaction. My words fail me, even though I desperately want to ease away her hurt right now. Maybe I should just pull her into my arms hard, kiss the breath out of her, and let that be the truth I can't seem to say.

  "Hey, Vale," I hear from the doorway, and my hands drop from her shoulders like she has hot potatoes stacked on them.

  Vale takes a deep breath and turns to see Max standing there. His eyes flick back and forth between us, finally resting permanently on Vale. "We didn't set up our next training session."

  "Oh," Vale says as she turns away from me. "Let's go pull up the calendar on my computer and get some slots scheduled."

  She heads for the door but stops when I say, "Vale."

  She doesn't turn to look at me but she's listening. "I'll see you at the hospital tonight."

  My eyes slide to Max, who's looking flummoxed over what is clearly a tense, personal moment between me and the staff athletic trainer. He raises his eyebrows at me in silent offer to back the hell away. I give him a shake of my head and Vale pushes past him, out the door and toward the AT offices.

  Max holds his arms out in question. "Dude...what the hell was that?"

  I let out a long breath of frustration before turning my eyes to him. "It's such a long story, it deserves a beer or two. Interested?"

  "Sure," he says with a smile. "Let me get this next session set up with Vale and we can head out."

  Chapter 16

  Vale

  "You okay in there?" I ask my dad from the kitchen. He's in the living room, recliner kicked back and eyes glued to the TV. Our apartment is so small, I can speak in a normal voice and he'll hear me even with the volume of Jeopardy! at a moderate level.

  "For the fifth and hopefully last time," my dad says with faux frustration, "I'm good. Dandy. Peachy keen. Stop asking."

  I snicker and slip the last dinner plate into the dishwasher. I brought him home from the hospital this morning and I have to admit, he looks good. In fact, he probably could have come home yesterday, but out of an abundance of caution, Dr. Furhman requested he stay an extra night for some more antibiotics given via IV. Last night while dad noshed on some low-sodium hospital chicken and I ate a questionable meatloaf from the cafeteria, we watched the Cold Fury play their first home game of the preseason on the flat-screen TV affixed to the wall. I had offered to come in to work for the game, but Bruce told me to stay with my dad. I expect this is because they really don't need me anyway, because this job was pretty much created just for my dad's and my benefit. But still, it's fortuitous that I can have some flexibility with Dad's illness.

  I was also a little grateful to avoid the opportunity to run into Hawke, who has knotted my gut up tight this week. It seems he and I are nothing but up and down since we've crossed paths again. We have a few days of polite existence, then we snap at each other. We have phenomenal sex, then we give cold shoulders. We focus on the present but then get mired in the past.

  Up and down. Up and down.

  It's been two days since I saw Hawke in the workout room. True to his word, he came and visited my dad yesterday, but did so early in the morning before I got to the hospital. When my dad told me I had just missed him when I walked in, I was equal parts happy and dismayed. This twisted my gut further, and didn't lessen in the slightest as we watched him play a fantastic game last night. He's been a tremendous addition to this team, and you can tell he's slotted in as seamlessly as a round peg fits in a customized hole. The Cold Fury slaughtered the Florida Spartans 5-1 and Hawke got a shorthanded goal after poking away a poor pass attempt on a Spartan power play. My heart zinged with adrenaline and joy over the play, even as my heart was dark from the way we had left things on Wednesday in the workout room.

  And I hadn't gotten Dad settled in his recliner this morning with the remote control in his hand for more than thirty minutes when Hawke called to check on him. I was gathering my phone, purse, and keys, getting ready to head out the door to make a quick grocery run, when the phone rang and Dad answered it. His voice was so damned buoyant and joyful when h
e said, "Hawke, my boy. Great to hear from you."

  Years have passed with bitter and bruised feelings in between, but my dad seems to have cast it all aside. He's accepted Hawke back into his life as if they'd never lost touch. I'd like to do the same too, but that just hasn't been achieved as of yet.

  I wonder if it ever will be.

  While my dad chattered away on the phone with Hawke--talking mostly about the game last night--I loitered around, eavesdropping. My dad recognized this as he shot a glance over at me standing near the door, then followed it up with a knowing smirk. I rolled my eyes, glared at him, and then stomped out of the room.

  I close the dishwasher door, the remnants of our roasted pork loin and garlic broccoli just a vague aroma left in the air. After giving my hands a quick wash, I grab my cell phone from the kitchen table and head back to my bedroom to call Avery. She and I text each other pretty much every day, but we do try to touch base by phone at least once a week.

  When the home screen illuminates, I see a waiting text. A quick tap of my finger on the icon and I see it's from Todd.

  Just checking in to see how you're doing. How's Dave?

  Dear, sweet Todd.

  We've talked by phone once since we parted ways, and he's sent me a couple of texts. Despite the way I broke things off with him, he's still kept in touch with me. He said, "I'm still your friend, Vale."

  And I suppose that's true, but I can tell he's harboring hope we'll somehow make this work. While I don't have any romantic interest in him now that I've broken ties, I don't hate him. I don't dislike him. On the contrary, I still very much like and admire the man I know him to be. While I never really thought being friends with an ex is possible, it seems that Todd is making a valiant attempt to disprove me, but again, I think he has an ulterior motive, so I need to be careful with him. I don't want to give him false hope.

  I shoot a quick text back. We're both good. Home from hospital and all settled in. How are you?

  I don't wait for Todd to respond. It's still working hours for a dentist and he normally doesn't leave his clinic until after six p.m. I'm sure he's armpit deep in cavities at this moment.

  Instead, I dial Avery and she picks up on the third ring. "Your damn mutt is getting on my last nerve. She's just eaten the third pair of Thomas's socks this week. She's a menace, I tell you."

  "That's all on you, sweetie," I tell her with a laugh. "If you'd put the socks in the laundry basket when you took them off his little feet, Piper wouldn't be inclined to eat them."

  "Yeah, yeah," she mutters. "I hear you."

  "How is my girl doing?" I ask, my chest constricting at the thought of Piper nearly fifteen hundred miles away. I sit on the edge of my bed and reach out to finger a framed picture of me and Piper on the bedside table. Her chocolate-brown face with a slightly pink nose, tongue lolling out the side of her face. We both look so happy in this photo and it seems so long ago. A picture of me and Todd had been next to it, but I put that in the drawer the day after we broke up. I couldn't stand to look at his face, knowing that I hurt him.

  "She misses you," Avery says in a sympathetic voice. "So do I for that matter."

  "I miss you too and I can't thank you enough for watching her for me until I can get back on my feet."

  We spend a few minutes filling each other in on our respective lives over the past few days.

  I tell her more details about Dad's hospitalization.

  She tells me that Thomas has learned to cross his eyes and now does it for every photo that's ever taken.

  I tell her a funny story about one of my Xtreme Fit clients who always smells like cumin, a not altogether unpleasant aroma, just not one you like smelling on a person.

  She tells me that Rob, her husband, started playing on a rec hockey league this week and already broke his nose.

  I tell her about Hawke.

  Well, I more or less blurt it out in an unrestrained bark of admission. "I slept with Hawke two days ago."

  Avery knows that Hawke and I have crossed paths. I'd told her all about the first time we talked and how awkward it was. I'd told her about his olive branch and that we settled into a friendly routine. I'd told her about Hawke molesting me in his bathroom--but omitted how much I enjoyed it--and that he outed us to Todd. She knows this sort of precipitated Todd's proposal, which in turn precipitated my ending the relationship with him.

  But she never in a million years thought we'd have sex, and this is confirmed when she screeches, "You did what?"

  "I slept with Hawke," I practically whine. "It was when Dad got put into the hospital and I was exhausted and vulnerable and I needed some comfort, familiarity."

  "You needed an orgasm," Avery says emphatically. "Right? That's all it was, I bet."

  I'm silent.

  And the silence is damning.

  "Tell me that's all it was," Avery demands.

  "Well, to me it was--"

  She rolls right over me. "That son of a bitch doesn't deserve more than that from you, Vale. You know I was never his biggest fan, but after he wouldn't return your calls and email...well, he just can't have more of you than some hot hookup sex. Don't give him more than that."

  Her last statement is a plea.

  She's begging me not to put myself in a position where I can get hurt again, so I quickly reassure her. "Don't worry, Av. It was definitely only a hookup for Hawke; he's apparently still holding a grudge--"

  "Why?" Avery demands. "He has no right."

  "Regardless," I say gently. "It was just a one-time thing. We've both moved past it."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes."

  No, I'm not past it.

  "Because he'll hurt you again if you let him in," Avery points out. "And besides...I bet the sex wasn't even as good as you remembered it, right?"

  "Totally awful," I tell her.

  Best. Sex. Ever.

  "Hawke is selfish," she adds. "Remember that. He thinks about no one but himself."

  "Selfish as they come," I murmur.

  Except...he's given his time freely to my dad and me, being a rock-solid means of support.

  "Listen, honey," Avery says briskly. "Rob just came home from work and I need to get dinner going."

  "Okay," I say as I stand from the bed and arch my back. "I'm going to hop in the shower and hit the bed early. I've got to train a client tomorrow, then the Cold Fury have an evening game so I'll have to be at the arena by three P.M."

  "Love you," Avery says. "Talk in a few days?"

  "Yup. Your turn to call."

  "Got it, toots. Later."

  "Later," I say quietly, and disconnect the call. I rub the end of the cellphone over my lower lip thoughtfully. Avery gave some good advice. Trying to rekindle anything with Hawke would not be a smart move. I'm here temporarily. As soon as my dad's better, he's going home to Sydney and I'm going...well, I don't know where I'm going, but I'm probably not going to stay here long term. Besides, no matter how combustible we may still be in the sex department, that alone isn't reason enough to be with someone. And it's been abundantly clear, past the sex and maybe a timid fondness for an old friend, we don't have much else binding us together.

  I take an extralong shower, relishing the actual time I have to dawdle. I have to say, the one good thing about Dad being in the hospital and me taking a few days off from work, I've totally caught up on my sleep. After blow-drying my hair, I put on a pair of old Penn State sweatpants and a white tank top. While I'd normally go braless in this "pre-sleep" getup, and would just shed the sweatpants prior to climbing into bed, I decide to go watch some TV with my dad and hang out. As such, the bra goes on under the tank top, because as much as I love my dad and we make pretty good roommates, there are just certain clothing requirements that have to be maintained. I wear a bra at all times in his presence and he promises to never come out of his room in just his boxer shorts.

  Putting my hair up in a loose ponytail, I decide I'll do my nails while I hang with my dad and grab some Pe
rfectly Pearly Pink nail polish from the cabinet underneath the sink. He'll probably want to watch sports, which is fine by me. I'm just relishing every day I have with him, even if it's spent doing something as mundane as painting my nails and watching TV.

  The minute I open the bathroom door, I hear a voice...deeper and more rumbling than my dad's. It takes me no more than a millisecond to recognize it as Hawke's. With one foot across the threshold of the bathroom and one foot still inside, I freeze...a momentary lapse in motion so I can contemplate what to do.

  I can jet into my bedroom and let them visit. Perfectly Pearly Pink will go on just as well in either place.

  Or I can go out there, because curiosity has the better of me and my blood is already racing at the prospect of seeing Hawke.

  I wince, duck my head in shame even though no one can see, and take a step into the hallway. Despite everything I just promised Avery, and despite all the ways in which our history has fucked both of us up, I can't help but want to see him.

  But I'll play it cool.

  Act surprised to see him.

  Sit on the opposite end of the couch from him and pretend indifference as I paint my nails.

  I'll reinforce to him that all we'll ever share is a mutual love of my father and a working arrangement. Anything past that is just...well, in the past.

  Chapter 17

  Hawke

  I hear the bathroom door open behind me and can't help the tension in my shoulders. This is either a smart move or a dumbass move on my part, but I can't leave things as they are with Vale. The last two days it's been gnawing at my insides...an unrealized epiphany that keeps my head swimming. I purposely visited Dave at the hospital early yesterday morning, hoping to avoid a run-in with Vale. It was cowardly, but until I could process what was really happening inside my gut, I needed to stay away from her, and besides, I had a game to concentrate on.

  But when I woke up this morning, still a little high off the win last night with a shorthanded goal compliments of yours truly, a clarity that was more crystal than a Waterford vase seemed to permeate my entire being. I knew what needed to be done where Vale was concerned.

  I didn't dwell on the implications, I didn't hesitate in my actions. In fact, I called Dave once he was home from the hospital and told him what my plan was. Well...I told him part of what my plan was. The other part a father doesn't need to know about his daughter.