Page 120 of Restless Hawke
Bishop wraps my hands and finishes securing my gloves, looking up at me with intense, dark eyes. “I couldn’t find your mouth guard in your locker.”
I shrug off the concern. “It’s been a while. I don’t know what happened to it.”
Her lips curl. “Well, don’t lose your teeth, pretty boy.”
She attaches my headgear, then smacks me on the temple and climbs out to watch with Isaac and Astrid—neither looks particularly happy about what’s about to go down.
If Jimmy were here, this would never be happening, and if Wren were aware of what was going on here, she would be flying over in a second to stop it before it started.
But there isn’t anyone to stop it now.
I face Atlas.
People always called him a rebel.
They said he didn’t quite fit into the Hawke family or the perfectly coifed, manicured picture we present to the world. He never lived up to what was expected of him. In that way, we’ve very much been the outsiders our whole lives. But at least theyhadexpectations for him. With me, I’ve always just floated by, drifted restlessly, like a lost puppy searching for a place to settle.
And look where that’s gotten me.
Look where it’s gotten all of us.
Atlas motions for me to come at him.
The anger in his gaze hasn’t abated. If anything, having me in here and within reach of his powerful right hook seems to have only made him more determined.
He takes the first swing, and I manage to duck out of the way to avoid being knocked unconscious two seconds into the sparring match.
We’ve always done this for fun and to help him train.
But this is neither.
Both of us entered this ring with an agenda, and he seems intent on his, throwing a right hook that glances off my shoulder. I take the opportunity to make a jab that glances off his rib cage.
He raises his brow. “I thought I was supposed to be the one kicking your ass.”
His words are garbled slightly by his mouthguard, but the humor in them and the surprise that I actually touched him remind me of who we were before everything went to shit.
I grin at him.
God, I’ve missed this.
The banter.
The comradery.
The challenge.
The love that underlies it all.
But I can’t even enjoy it.
Not when I know what I did to him.
His next swing is so fast I don’t even see it coming and lands on my temple. My head snaps to the side, and despite the head protection, my vision goes dark, my ears ring, and I stumble sideways.
The world sways, and I sag against the ropes, trying to clear the buzzing and fogginess encroaching on the edges of my brain.
“Careful, Atlas…”
