The onset of the coming night darkens the room as he pours another glass. He sets the bottle down, sits in a chair next to me, body angled so that we face each other, knees touching. He blows out a breath before taking a sip of the Jack, and meanwhile the air has thickened with tension and the disquiet of the unknown in what lies ahead between the two of us.
“You wanted to talk?” he asks, eyes locked on mine, expression undecipherable, almost like he’s detaching himself from me, and I hate it.
“I need to hear about the bet from you. I need you to make me understand why you didn’t tell me when things changed between us…. They did change, right? I mean I’m not making that up, am I?” The silence stretches during which he grants me a slow, even nod, words unspoken but his eyes show that he’s conflicted. “Hawke … I’m a pretty forgiving person, but you hurt me. I may have overreacted with the Vince thing, but finding out about the bet from Hunter was a blow to more than just my ego.”
He nods again, the drink now gone. I narrow my eyebrows as I watch him pour another. “I’m sorry. It was a mistake, a band thing that normally I would have let run its course—”
“But you did let it run its course,” I tell him, wanting to make sure that he sees my side of the argument.
“I know, that didn’t come out right. Look.” He scoots closer, so that one of my knees is between his. “At first it was a real thing, the bet…. But you’re right—things changed and I fucked it all up. The thing with Vince … Well, that was …” His voice trails off as he leans forward, his eyes darkening, a sheepish smile on his face.
I meet him halfway, hungry for his kiss, his taste, to demonstrate the intimate connection between us because even when we haven’t been able to communicate well in the past, our bodies have. And maybe that’s what we need, this little sip of each other to remind us what we have between us so that we can begin again.
Chapter 35
HAWKIN
Relief sifts through my body like an hourglass, slowly filling me with the knowledge that this whole bullshit charade is over and done. I’ve fulfilled my last promise to Hunter and now he can sink or swim on his own.
Hell yes, I love him, will help him if he asks for it, with limitations, but my days of being his father are over.
When I glance over my shoulder to where Vince sits a few rows back, there’s a smile of relief on his face. He showed up even when I told him not to. Like I always say, the guy would go to bat for me in a football game if I asked him to. I lift my chin toward him as Ben nudges me to turn back around and not piss off the judge, who is finishing his parting words.
The judge knocks his gavel, locks eyes with me, and gives me a stern warning nod. I nod in kind, letting him know I understand his message, that this will be my only reprieve from getting time, before he rises and walks into his chambers.
The minute his door closes, I slump in my chair and the courtroom becomes a flurry of activity. Reporters rush out of the room so that they can call in the verdict to their boss, which will most likely squash the story because it’s nothing as exciting as a conviction would have been.
“Thank fuck,” I say in an exhale of breath, my head resting on the back of the chair as I throw a silent thank-you out to the universe for letting me catch a break.
“Gotta earn those big bucks you pay me somehow, now, don’t I?” Ben says, throwing my comment back in my face from what feels like forever ago.
I sit up and stick my hand out to him—and it’s such a formality after everything we’ve been through over the years, but I need him to know how much I appreciate his guidance and expertise through the whole ordeal. He glances down at my outstretched hand and just grins, knowing this is the only admission I’ll give that he knows what he’s doing and is good at his job. He shakes my hand and squeezes it a little too tight, before reaching out and patting me on the back.
“Thanks, Benji. I owe you one.”
“I’d say anytime but if you lie for your brother again,” he says, daring me to tell him that I wasn’t covering for him, “I love you enough to tell you that I won’t defend you. I told him the same thing right before I came in here as well.”
“Told him what? That you won’t defend me or him?” I ask off the cuff, so distracted by the chaos of emotions swirling around in my body that it takes me a second to hear what he has said. “Whoa, wait. You called Hunter just to tell him that?” I can’t believe that with his complete disdain for my brother he even took the time to seek him out.
“First question, I won’t defend either of you,” he says with an arch of his brow as he starts stuffing papers into his briefcase. “Second, I ran into Hunt when I went to the bathroom before we started. It piss—”
“He was here?” What did he get, a change of heart, a conscience, or what? Because he sure as hell didn’t have the guts to walk in here and watch me take the heat for him. Anger lights up within as it all hits me: my stupidity, the risks I took, being used … all of them simply solidifying how I already feel.
“Yeah. He was in the hallway right before I came in. We got into it. I told him this wasn’t you taking the rap for him for hitting a parked car like you did in high school. Let him know he was a piece of shit for using guilt that’s not yours to hold you responsible for his mistakes.”
I meet the blue eyes of one my oldest friends and realize how damn lucky I am that despite my preoccupation with taking care of my brother over the years, I have all of these incredible people watching my back. Then it hits me how agitated Ben was when he first sat down, and now I know why. It was because Hunter was here.