Page 24 of Hawk

“I feel a little ridiculous wanting to jump your bones and not even knowing your real name,” she mumbles.

“Ethan Hawke-Volpe is my name.”

“That’s why they call you Hawk.”

“Not really. I got the name in the army. I was part of a scouting patrol, and I was always able to spot trouble way before anyone else. I have a keen sense of danger. A gut instinct that hasn’t let me down yet, and eyes like a hawk. It stuck, and soon, the entire troop called me Hawk.”

“It suits you.Ishould have trusted my gut instinct a year ago. I knew things weren’t right between Robert and me. I ignored it,” she murmurs.

“It was meant to be this way. I never would have met you if you’d done it a year ago,” I whisper.

“I guess you’re right. Do you have family? I mean, besides your club brothers.” I go to move my hand, but she clenches it tight to her belly. I don’t like talking about my family. My parents are snobs, and my older sister, Tara, took off to the farthest college as soon as she could to put distance between them. She settled in California, met a good man, and got married. No kids yet, but they’re trying.

“I do. I’m close to my sister. You’ll meet her one day soon. She’s cool and smart and feisty. Her husband, Donnovan, is a good guy. He’s in construction, renovating mostly. They’re happy, and I’m happy for them.”

“Are your parents still, um, around?” she asks cautiously. She’s assuming my parents are dead. There were times when I was a kid that I wished them dead, but they’re still very much alive.

“They live.” I manage to get the words out.

“You’re not in touch with them?”

“Not unless I have to be.”

“When was the last time you saw them?” She turns her head to look over her shoulder at me.

“Tara’s wedding. They arrived the night before the wedding and caused more chaos than a tornado. In just twelve hours, they managed to upset everyone and threatened not to come to the ceremony if Tara didn’t accede to their demands. Tara was in tears. Donnovan was ready to string my father up by his neck. Mom insulted Tara at every turn, saying everything they’d planned was quaint, according to my mother.” Even a year later, it burns my ass that hurricanes Mandy and Coran blow into town to tear apart their own daughter’s wedding. Of course, our parents would only throw out the insults when I wasn’t in the room. They knew I would never allow their bullshit.

“Quaint is good, isn’t it?” she asks innocently. “I like quaint. Small and personal, simple and elegant. That’s the way I’d like my wedding to be.”

That’s good to know for the future, I decide. “Not to Mandy Hawke-Volpe. To the illustrious parents, “quaint” is another word for cheap. Our mother and father are all about society’s dos and don’ts. Prestige and influence. All kids must attend Ivy League schools, and the men must marry debutants and have two-point-four kids, and a froufrou dog named Precious,” I grit out through my teeth.

She senses my anger, and her fingers strum soothingly along my arm. “We don’t have to talk about them. I didn’t mean to get you upset.”

I let out a heavy sigh. “You might as well know that I hate them. They don’t know what love is and never will. They had kids because it was the appropriate thing to do after getting married. If surrogacy had been an option back then, they would have opted for that so Mom didn’t suffer stretch marks. Some people aren’t meant to have children, and Mandy and Coran are two of them. I got out by joining the army as soon as I turned eighteen. My father lost his mind. Not because I could get killed, but because he was concerned with what people would say. To this day, he tells everyone that I joined to serve my country. And that’s partially true, but I did it to escape the hell I was living in. The pretentious environment where the servants are banished to the other end of the mansion.”

“That’s a mighty big step for a young man. Looks to me that you turned out pretty darn great, though.” She turns in my arms to face me. Her palm cups my cheek. “You rose above the despair and made something for yourself that you’re proud of. I see the way the guys look up to you and respect you.”

“Each and every one of those men has greatness. In our club, I might be the president, but I consider us all equals.”

“And that’s why they recognize your leadership. They know you’re in it with them and for them. It’s too bad your parents haven’t figured out the gifts they’re throwing away. One day, they will, and hopefully, your heart will be big enough to forgive them,” Etain says with a hopeful grin. I want to tell her it’s not fucking likely that’ll happen.

Instead, I say, “Maybe. Someday.” I brush my lips over hers, then over her eyelids. I feel her body relax, her head resting on my chest.

“Your parents did one thing right,” she murmurs.

“What’s that?”

“They gave you an awesome name. Ethan Hawke-Volpe. Strong and sexy, just like you.” Etain places a light kiss on my pec.

My parents were more interested in themselves than they ever were in Tara or me. They weren’t physically abusive. In order to be that, they’d have to be present in our lives. Our nanny, Tilda, was more of a mother to us than our own. It was Tilda who got us ready for school, made our lunches, played games with us, and taught us how to be kids and have fun.

As soon as we were old enough for boarding school, Tara and I were shipped off, and Tilda was no longer employed. But Tilda would come to parents’ day, knowing that our own parents wouldn’t be there due to some charity event that they just couldn’t miss. After the army, I drifted for a while, but I always found work and I made sure that Tilda was taken care of. Tilda now lives in a cottage by the lake, as she always dreamed of, and although she needs constant care, I make sure she has all she needs, because she is my mother. An egg or a sperm donation doesn’t make a parent. Love does. Tilda taught me that.

But I’ll acknowledge that my parents did give me a cool name. I haven’t been called Ethan in so long, and it sounds so much better when Etain says my name.

I hear her steady, even breathing. “Sleep, baby,” I whisper, kissing the top of her head.

ELEVEN

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