Page 2 of Cryptic Curse

Though I’ve repeated the mantra—Yes, Dad, I understand—Idon’tunderstand.No rational person could.

“I’m sorry, Hawk,” he finally says.

My eyes go wide.

Did I truly hear the words?

I’m sorry, Hawk.

I didn’t know Austin Bellamy was ever sorry about anything.

Of course, when you shoot one of your own children, you probablyshouldbe fucking sorry.

1

HAWK

Present Day…

“What’s up, Fal?”I say into my phone.

“Hawk.Thank God you answered,” my older brother, Falcon, says.

My brothers and sisters always give me shit about not answering my phone.Texting is easier for me, and it’s the method I prefer.That way I can answer at my leisure.

“It finally happened,” Falcon says.“Dad’s awake.”

His words rattle around my head like loose ping-pong balls before they register.

I should probably feel happy about the news.Our father has been in a coma for the past several months after a botched suicide attempt.

The whole thing makes no sense.Austin Bellamy is a great shot.If he’d truly wanted to kill himself, he probably could have.But he only grazed his skull, which doesn’t explain the coma.

The doctors can’t find any medical explanation for it, and though I hate myself for thinking it, I’ve wondered if he could be faking.

Austin Bellamy couldn’t fake a coma by himself, of course.But he could with help.Someone could easily be on the inside at the hospital dosing him up with drugs to keep him unconscious.

Why would he fucking do that?

Why would he try to kill himself in the first place?

And why would he botch it so badly?

I have no answers, but when it comes to my father, nothing should surprise me.

I hold back a scoff.My relationship with my parents is fucked up to the nth degree.I’m actually closer to my father than I am to my mother.

“I’ll get there as soon as I can,” I say to Falcon.

“Great.Thank God.This is such awesome news.”

“Yeah, sure is.”I end the call.

I walk outside, get into my truck, put it in gear, and start the drive to the hospital that has been my father’s home since his suicide attempt.

I hate the guilt that nags me.It scratches the back of my neck like a stray cat clawing at me.

I haven’t visited Dad much.Mom goes every day, of course, and spends a few hours with him.Falcon and Savannah, his fiancé, go often as well.I’ve probably been there more often than Eagle, though.My younger brother always has his own agenda.

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