Page 65 of Heart of Stone
"Don't thank me yet." She stands, heading for the door. "This is going to hurt like hell before it gets better."
"I know." I turn back to Abby, watching her sleep. "But I'd rather hurt than keep hoping for something that's never going to happen."
Ginger pauses in the doorway. "He does care about you, you know."
"I know." My voice cracks slightly. "He just doesn't care enough."
She leaves me then, the soft sound of her boots fading down the hallway. In the quiet, I listen to the steady beep of monitors, to Amy's soft breathing, to Adam's occasional snuffle.
My kids. My responsibility. My choice.
When Hawk finally shows up—and he will, I know he will—I have to be strong enough to stick to that choice.
Even if it breaks what's left of my heart.
I must have dozed off in the uncomfortable hospital chair because the next thing I know, a rough hand is brushing hair from my face.
"Andi."
I jerk awake, disoriented until my eyes focus on Hawk crouching beside me. He looks rough—dusty leather, shadows under his eyes, worry etched into every line of his face.
Too little, too late.
"Don't touch me," I whisper, pulling away.
His hand drops. Behind him, Ginger gathers Adam who's begun fussing, her expression grim.
"Can we talk?" Hawk asks quietly. "Outside?"
I glance at Abby, sleeping peacefully now that her breathing has stabilized.
"I've got them," Ginger says softly. "Go."
The hallway is too bright, too sterile. I lean against the wall, exhaustion making my legs shake. Or maybe that's the anger.
God, looking at him hurts. There is so much anger in me. So much helpless fucking rage.
I am angry at him, at me, at this fear that won't quit.
"How is she?" Hawk asks.
"Now you care?"
"Of course I care?—"
"No." I cut him off. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to show up now and act concerned when I called you seventeen times, and you couldn't be bothered to answer once."
"I was handling club business."
"And I was handling a baby who couldn't breathe!" The words come out as a harsh whisper. "She was turning blue, Hawk. Her lips were blue, and Amy was screaming, and Adam wouldn't stop crying, and I needed you. I fucking needed you."
He reaches for me. "Babe?—"
"Don't." I step back. "Don't 'babe' me. I get it now. I see exactly where we stand in your priorities list."
"That's not fair. I didn't know?—"
“Because you didn’t pick up your fucking phone!" I laugh, the sound raw and far too broken. "You really want to talk about fair, Hawk? These kids have already had their parents abandon them. I won't let them go through that again."
