Page 156 of Filthy Love

His fingers twitching like he wanted to touch everything “What does that do?”

“That’s where this goes. It makes the lightbulb work.” Hawk showed him the fuse and let him watch him pop it back in. “Where’s your dad, kid? He knows you’re outside?”

Sebastian, fascinated in what Hawk was doing watched avidly, shifting from one sneaker foot to the other. He rolled a little shoulder. “I don’t gots one now. He did something bad and went far away. Aun’ Ruby said he’s not coming back ever.”

Jesus fucking Christ.Hawk’s gut squeezed like he’d eaten bad seafood.

Seb said it nonchalantly, like it was no biggie to have no parents, but Hawk knew more than most the thoughts a five-year-old could have for the abuse they received.

Clearing the rock in his throat he jutted his chin towards the tool box. “You wanna hand me that screw driver?”

“Yeah! I can do that.” About an hour later when he finally grabbed the right tool Hawk was aware the boy had sidled closer to watch him close the fuse box. “You do have a dad, you know?”

The boy blinked. “I do?”

“Doesn’t Preacher play ball with you and take you to school?” A fast nod. “And read you stories and knowing Preacher he lets you have candy for dinner?” Another nod, this time the boy held up four fingers. “Four storwies. And he lets me sit on his bike. I gonna have a bike when I get bigger.”

Instantly the boy, wearing denim and a fire truck red Adidas hoodie, went into an animated story of how Preacher plays with him in the yard every night and how the kid beats him in races. “I gots my own football! I beat Winder last night, I made him falled over real hard.” He told proudly.

Hawk found his mouth twitching. The boy had jokes. “Grinder is shit at football.”

“Oh! You said a bad word!”

Another lip twitch. The kid was earnest in his scolding. Hawk dipped his head to grab at the box of fuses he’d brought out with him to change the other four in the exterior timed lights. “Don’t tell your dad.”

“Do I gets money? When Pweacher swored he gave me money and I don’t tell Aun’ Ruby.”

His smile widened like he knew what he was doing.

That little hustling punk.

Sitting back on his boots Hawk fished in his front jeans pocket, found it empty. He checked the back and grabbed the only note in there. A five.Shit. The boy’s eyes lit up. “Here, you con artist, don’t buy smokes.”

“What’s a con artist?”

“It’s you, kid.” Hawk moved several feet along to the next light box, squatted down and found his shadow following. Seb was Preacher’s kid. Poking his nose in. Asking too many questions. Hawk answered them all.

“You got a bike?”

“Yep.”

“Pweacher’s bike is better.” He told Hawk with a grin, holding onto the screwdriver waiting to be tagged in for the task of passing it over.

Hawk arched his brow. The balls on this kid. “Is that so?”

“He lets me wide it. I’m gonna gets a big one when I get older, he said I could.”

“Keep conning assholes out of cash and you’ll afford one before you’re ten.” Hawk muttered.

“Oh. You saided ‘nother bad word.” And didn’t the kid just hold out his hand.Shit.

Hawknearlygrinned. “You cleaned me out. Catch me tomorrow.”

A vigorous nod. “Okay, I will ‘member.”

“Sebastian!” Bellowed from inside and the kid giggled, leaning against Hawk’s shoulder, both sets of eyes watched the doorway as Preacher rushed out, looked right and then left. He visibly exhaled with relief.

“Jesus, Seb. Where the fu—fudge did you go to? I told you to sit tight, didn’t I?”

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