Page 20 of Rebel Hawke

His responding chuckle comes deep and low, making my entire body tingle with the want to hear it again and again. “We’re the same age, Wren. In fact, I think I’m a few months older…”

I nod slowly. “Yeah, almost three.”

Atlas grins. “That’s what I thought.” He points a finger at me. “See? You may have been gone for a while, but I still remember everything about you.”

“Oh,doyou now?”

That’s a prettyboldstatement to make about someone he hasn’t seen in literal decades, but then again, Atlas was always the boldest Hawke. And I certainly remember every single detail about him, too.

He turns the handle and pops open the door but pauses halfway through it. “Of course, I do.” Those Caribbean-blue eyes he inherited from his mother heat. “I remember you had a pink flower in your hair the day we got married and that we drank 7-Up from champagne glasses after the ‘ceremony.’” He air quotes, and I can’t help but laugh. “And that your favorite color is yellow, and you love mint chocolate chip ice cream, even though I think it’s absolutely disgusting.”

“It’s good.”

He shakes his head. “If I’m indulging in ice cream, I don’t want a monstrosity that has mint and chocolate mixed together. I want obscene amounts of cookie dough.”

My eyes automatically drift over his muscular arms and chest and the six-pack I can see under his tight T-shirt. “I don’t know how you maintain that body eating the way you do.”

His eyes widen as he grins. “Your grandfather pushes me hard. That’s what I pay him for. But I am definitely going to haveto cut back at Nana’s Sunday dinners and on the sweets once training camp starts.”

“When’s that?”

He releases a little annoyed sigh, like he isn’t looking forward to it in the least. “Monday…”

“Soon, then.”

His head bobs. “It’s a title fight. I need as much time as I can get to prepare for Gordon.”

My gaze drifts to his shoulder, the scars that I know are there and the injury lurking beneath them, concealed by his clothes. I want to say more, but I bite back the words, not wanting to upset him by pointing out the obvious.

It doesn’t matter if he has three months.

No amount of training on the bag or in the ring is going to heal the damage no one sees. If he doesn’t do something drastic and quickly, he’s not going to be ready.

He glances into the gym, then raps his tattooed knuckles against the jamb, offering me one more smile. “Your grandfather is here. ” He winks. “See, I told you not to worry.”

Easier said than done.

When I came back to be closer to Gramps, I never thought I’d end up having to worry about Atlas, too.

For all his bravado, strength, and energy and the confidence he exudes, he’s a man precariously balanced on a thin ledge that could lead to a major fall.

4

ATLAS

Astrid takes measure of my plate with scrutiny as I add another helping of lasagna and four more pieces of garlic bread to the already heaping pile of food. “Are youreallygoing to eat all that?”

I scowl at her and cut into Nana’s most famous dish, slicing through the layers of pasta, meat, and cheese, then shovel a bite into my mouth before I answer around it. “Fuck yeah, I am.”

“Atlas!” Nana glowers at me from the head of the table, her old, hard eyes holding a harsher reproach than even her sharp voice did. “Language!”

Coen snorts and shakes his head, his gaze cutting to Viviana next to Isaac, baby Giovanni in Jack’s arms, Benjamin where he sleeps on Pope’s shoulder, and over to Charlotte where she sits between Cass and Kennedy on the other side of the long table. “Oh, yeah, wouldn’t want the kids to hear suchfoulwords they certainlyneverdo at home…”

Uncle Savage can’t contain his chuckle. He takes a sip of his wine to try to cover it and ensure Nana doesn’t see him laughingat her ridicule and Coen’s observation. Most of the table does the same, trying to conceal their humor, but Uncle Stone offers his youngest son a scolding look.

I finish chewing and swallow, watching Coen shift uncomfortably under his father’s stare, then chug my beer. “I start training camp tomorrow. This is my last chance to have a decent meal for the next three months. I plan to enjoy it.”

As much as I can with the entire family watching me like…well…a hawk…

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