Page 3 of Rebel Hawke

I scan the gym, from where Astrid is helping Bishop undo her wraps to Isaac and Viviana talking with Dad and Savage, then to Kennedy nose-deep in something on her cell. Normally, Iwouldn’t mind having half the fucking family here for a morning session, but this is becoming a far too regular thing.

Like everyone’s checking up on me.

As if they can all see straight through all the lies I’ve been telling them and are waiting for me to finally crack and crumble before their eyes.

Not fucking today.

Jenkins raises a bushy white brow as he lifts the ropes to let me slip through. “Are you okay kid? Really?”

He should know I’m not.

After a lifetime of training me, he knows me almost as well as anyone in this room who shares my blood. But the sincerity of the question, the absence of his usually stony ribbing and aggressive pushing, gives me a moment of pause.

The truth sits on the tip of my tongue, but I bite it back the same way I have the cries of pain from each swing I’ve taken with my left arm since I started rehabbing it.

“I’m fine.” I release a heavy breath. “You know I would tell you if I wasn’t.”

He snorts and shakes his head as he tears off my gloves and starts ripping the tape from my hands. “No, you wouldn’t, and neither did your father or your grandfather before you.”

I scowl at the old man. He may be the best trainer in New Orleans, but that also means he knowsfartoo much about the Hawkes. Like the fact that none of us like to show even a sliver of weakness.

Before I can come up with some witty response, he frees my hands and Viviana races over and launches herself at me. “Atlas!”

I wince as I pull her up into my arms. “Kid, you have to learn not to do that after a session. I’m sweaty and disgusting.”

Plus holding her right now might be what finally knocks me on my ass.

Her little lips twist into a frown, and she scrunches up her nose in the most adorable, exaggerated fashion. “Youdostink.”

“I know, kid.” Sweat drips down my temple and splatters on her dress, as if to prove the point. “I need to hit the showers.”

Isaac walks over and slaps me on the shoulder—thankfully the good one. “It looks like you could use a session with me. Bishop might be too much for you these days.”

It is meant as a good-natured joke and rip on his own “skills,” since he still bears a light scar on his brow from a dance with me last year, but it still hits me harder than Bishop did in the ring.

Isaac might be more my speed these days—not that big, mean fucker I’m supposed to be taking on in a few short months.

“Gee, thanks, Cuz. You want another scar?”

Kennedy approaches, glancing up from her phone only long enough to watch where she’s walking. “What’s going on? Are we threatening Isaac? Because I can have one of these heels off in a split second…”

Viviana’s little brow furrows. “Why would she take off her shoe?”

I jostle her slightly, ignoring the twinge across my collarbone. “Don’t worry about it, kiddo. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

Isaac definitely draws ire frommostof the people he crosses paths with—family not excluded. Being her father won’t change that, and if their relationship is anything like mine with Dad, it might make things worse.

The man himself eyes me from across the gym with Savage, his lips pressed together in a firm line, arms crossed over his chest, shoulders tense with worry.

Dad sees it, too.

Unable to keep looking at him, I turn back toward the ring as Astrid and Bishop climb out. Astrid scoops Vivi from my armsand starts whispering conspiratorially with her as Bishop grabs my water bottle from the bench and shoves it in my chest.

“Looks like you could use this…” She raises a brow. “Or something stronger?”

With everyone crowded around me as I chug from the bottle, watching me carefully, claustrophobia starts to set in, making my skin tighten over twitching, aching muscles.

“Will you guys all knock it off? For the love of fucking God, I’m not some zoo animal.” I point to Kennedy. “Don’t you have to get to the hotel?”

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