Page 43 of Wicked Truths

I’m seriously dreading the first time Sullivan brings a hook up on the bus. Liam is funny and flirtatious, but I could probably cope with seeing him with a groupie. Sulli is an entirely different story. Although I am slowly coming to terms with our new reality.

“Hey, man.” Liam steps into the room. I guess we didn’t lock the bedroom door. “Can we get your feedback on something?”

“Should I come too?” I roll to the side so that Marcus can sit up.

“Nah, this is for one of the other bands.” Liam nods, awkwardly fidgeting with his hands.

I raise an eyebrow.

Marcus grunts, turning to give me a quick kiss that has me grinning, and then he follows Liam out. I guess maybe I do have lead singer syndrome, where I think the world revolves around me, because it seems strange for them to leave me out.

I fall back against the pillows with a huff.

There’s another quick knock on the door, and it opens before I can acknowledge whoever it is. I roll over onto my stomach and my eyes widen as I catch sight of Hawk. His blond hair is thick, falling over his forehead, and the short stubble he normally wears has grown into what might actually qualify as a beard. He’s wearing a tight black T-shirt with dark jeans and boots. It’s pretty much his uniform, but holy crap does he fill it out nicely. There’s a box tucked into the crook of his arm.

I’m apparently the most cliché omega on the planet. I push up, studying the silver and black box that he moves to hold in his hands.

“What’s that?”

“Can I have a seat?” The door closes behind him with a quiet click as he watches me.

I nod. “Go ahead.”

He sits on the end of the bed and holds out the box. “Take it.”

I frown but grab the small container. “I hate to tell you this, but my birthday isn’t until May.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “Don’t even joke about me forgetting your birthday.”

My silly heart races. For my last birthday he gave me a signed copy of one of my favorite musicians’ biographies. At the time I thought it might be him showing interest. My head shakes, trying to will away the myriad of emotions I’m hit with. I’m still not convinced I have any right to be mad at him.

People are allowed to pull back from any relationship that isn’t serving them. My therapist told me that in one of our sessions. I was going to counseling twice a week when I first lost my mom.

“Are you going to open it?” Hawk asks. I don’t know why my hands shake as I pull the lid off, but they sure as hell do. I grip the gray fabric, giving it a tug up into the air. I’m not sure what it is, but the material is soft and stretchy and it looks a little like a sleeping bag. “It’s a comfort thingy, like a sensory compression sleeper thing. Whenever you’re stressed out you can climb inside it and it’s supposed to give you a safe and secure feeling like you’re being held.”

“It’s really soft. Thank you.” My eyes fly up to meet his. Gosh, his blue eyes are expressive. He looks nervous and a little hopeful. My stomach flutters in response.

“There’s something else.” He reaches into the bottom of the box, pulling out a large cream-colored envelope that I missed. “It’s my paperwork. I mean, I filed for divorce a while ago, but there were all sorts of steps I had to take because she was MIA. It’s all documented in the file. It shows the progress I was making. We had the final hearing, and she didn’t show up to contest it, so it’s done—”

“Thank you for telling me?”

“This changes nothing, does it?” Hawk frowns, shaking his head.

“Wait, is this a courting gift?” I ask, patting the sleeping bag thing in my lap.

“It’s just…” He shrugs a giant infuriating shoulder. “I want you to know I’m always thinking about you; that I spend hours trying to figure out how to make your life easier. If Marcus isn’t around for whatever reason, and you need it, then at least I know you have it.”

Dammit. That was as clear as mud. My impulses instantly feel like I should burst into tears because I think I wanted to hear him say that he wants to court me.

“God, that was bad,” Marcus says from the doorway. I jolt, but he smirks. “He’s afraid you’re going to break his heart. So, rather than saying what he wanted to say, he said what he thought you wanted to hear.” He shrugs. “Or maybe he hedged his words.” He makes eye contact with Hawk. “Here’s the thing. She’s actually quite easy to get along with if you communicate, but she’s not a fucking mind reader.”

Damn, why does that make my heart race?

That’s all I want.

Open communication and not having to wonder where I stand with someone.

Marcus always seems to get me on some soul-deep level I’ve never experienced before. I think it’s because he’s been hurt in the same ways and yearns for the same things.

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