Page 52 of Fake Dating Daxton Hawk
He glances at each shoulder and shrugs. “I chose whatever art I liked the look of. But I started getting the ink done as a way of recreating myself from a childhood I want to forget about.”
“Jeez. That’s… kind of intense to drop during a flamingo ride. What didn’t you like about your childhood?”
He answers with a humorless laugh. “How much time do you have to listen?”
“All the time.” I shuffle forward, dangling my legs into the water by Daxton’s body. I want to know everything about him. The good and the bad.
Silence settles between us. From the distant look in Daxton’s eyes, I can tell he’s gone to a dark place. Perhaps this pool party isn’t the best time for such a heavy discussion.
“So, Amabella is pretty nice,” I say.
Daxton breaks away from his deep thoughts and looks up at me. “I wasn’t dismissing the topic of my childhood. You want to know about my past but I don’t even know where to start.”
“Maybe you can start with Amabella. She mentioned something that took me by surprise. I don’t want to overstep my boundaries, but she said you saved her and her daughter from a domestic violence issue.”
A troubled line forms between Daxton’s eyebrows. “I did. My father was abusive toward my mother. Growing up with him has made me in tune with the warning signs of an aggressive man and I could see Amabella was in a dangerous situation with her partner. She often had bruises she tried to conceal. He was controlling and would always gaslight her. He wouldn’t let her have financial independence. I encouraged Amabella to leave him for years, not only for her safety but her daughter’s too. Amabella didn’t have any ties to him. He wasn’t Ally’s father—he’d passed away when Ally was young. Amabella wanted to leave but would never make the final move. Then one night about four years ago…”
Daxton’s eyes shut tight as if trying to rid a memory. When he looks back up at me, I see from the pain in his eyes how truly difficult this conversation is for him.
“Amabella turned up on my doorstep in LA and it was the worst I’d ever seen her. There were massive bruises all over her body and she had to be hospitalized. Doctors told me she was lucky to be alive. From there on out, we took legal measures to keep her and Ally safe. I let them live with me. After a few months when Amabella had the confidence to live on her own, I set her and Ally up with permanent residence at The Hawk Grand in New York where they could have a fresh start away from everything. Poor Ally was traumatized by what happened to her mother, but they’re both doing well for themselves now.”
“My gosh. I don’t know what to say.” I place my hand on Daxton’s to offer support. The gesture barely seems adequate, given the scale of everything he’s just shared.
“Jordan, it may appear like I overreacted with Tom Sanders in the cabana, but I can’t turn a blind eye to an abusive man. Not after what happened to Amabella, and not after my… childhood.” He sighs that last word and rakes a hand through his wet hair.
Right when I think Daxton is about to continue telling me about his childhood, a girl squeals just beyond the waterfall and a large wave travels beneath the bridge, as though someone has cannonballed into the pool. A moment later, a twenty-something-year-old girl with ice-blond hair surfaces beside us, wearing a bikini that barely covers her breasts and has a smile only for Daxton.
“Sorry to interrupt. I’m Katie.” The girl winks at him. “I saw you two come in here and wondered if I can get a flamingo ride from you next.”
Daxton answers her with a polite smile. “The flamingo is all yours. But you’ll have to find someone else to give you the ride. I’m busy with my girl.”
The next thing I know, Daxton pulls me into the water with him. “Goodbye, Kate.”
The girl glares at me and leaves with the flamingo.
“Katie. Not Kate,” I correct Daxton.
“Like I care.” He draws my legs around his waist.
My breath shallows at this new position. I must look like a blushing mess because Daxton chuckles softly, gazing at my hot cheeks. When time catches up with me, I wrap my arms around Daxton’s shoulders.
“You play the role of my girlfriend well,” he whispers.
“It’s not a hard role to act.”
“I like this position better anyway.” He pulls my legs tighter around his firm body, sending tingles low in my belly. The water laps around our shoulders. My face is right in front of his, the two of us level now. “Much better for such a personal conversation.”
All intimacy is lost from his voice, his words turning flat and lifeless as he continues. “My childhood was a hard time. I didn’t have a lot of confidence as a kid. I struggled socially. Was more interested in books and numbers. It led to being bullied. My brother was my only real friend. I loved my parents very much, especially my father. He always took the time to connect with me over my interests. As a family, we were seemingly happy. My parents had money. We lived on the vineyard they owned in California and my parents took pride in teaching us about the business. When I turned thirteen, I realized not everything within my family was as perfect as it seemed. Behind closed doors, my father had anger problems.”
Daxton pauses, his jaw tight as he takes a moment to regroup. My heart breaks for him, knowing this story is only going to get worse.
“I can’t be sure when the violence began because my parents never fought in front of me and my brother. They were good at faking a smile. But I started to notice things like… my mother applying makeup over her bruises. I’d come home or play close to the house and hear them arguing.”
He stops again. I caress his cheek, trying to offer some sense of comfort through his recounting. Torment sits in Daxton’s eyes as he stares at the waterfall, but I remain silent, giving him space to retell the story at his own pace.
“One time when I was fifteen, I watched my parents fight through a crack in the door. My dad slapped my mother so hard that she fell to the ground. I wanted to intervene but I was so shocked that I couldn’t even move. I idolized my father and could barely comprehend that he was capable of harming my mother. He left her on the floor that day, and when I went to help her, she told me it was her fault she’d been hit. That she’d aggravated him and shouldn’t have pushed his boundaries.”
Daxton’s grip tightens around my waist. He swallows hard and continues speaking. “When I was seventeen, there was one night when I came home early from an outing without telling my parents. What I saw… Jordan, I thought the bastard was going to kill my mom. I grabbed a baseball bat and knocked him out with it. I called the police and… well, they took him away. After that night, we never saw him again. He was put behind bars. A few years later we found out he… passed away in there.”
