Page 20 of Restless Hawke
She nods. “Do you know what it means?”
I snort and take a sip from my drink, wishing she hadn’t asked the question. “I do. It was an intentional choice on my parents’ part.” That familiar agony of knowing what a fucking disappointment I am hits me hard. “It means wise counselor.”
“Are you a wise counselor?”
Her question makes me draw back slightly, letting her slip from my hold.
She can’t possibly know what she’s digging into, what her questions are slowly chipping away at, the pain she’s exposing. If I were a more suspicious person, I would say it’s almost like she’slookingfor another way in, another weakness to exploit, since her attempt to take me off my game wasn’t good enough today. But there isn’t any way Allegra could know the sordid Hawke history or how questioning me about it would make me feel like I’m free falling from one of those windows down into the ocean without a damn parachute.
“I don’t think anyone in my family would say ‘yes’ right now, but it was what they wanted from me. What they expected.” I snort at the absolute absurdity of how badly things have gone and take a long drink. Releasing a sigh, I shove my free hand through my hair. “At least they’re batting 500.”
Her soft brow furrows. “I’m sorry. I have no idea what that means.”
Allegra’s confusion shouldn’t be so adorable, but it somehow is, and it’s enough to break me from my foul mood and focus on what’s in front of me.
I grin at her. “You don’t watch much baseball, huh?”
She barks out a laugh and pulls out of my hold, spinning in her tight black dress and sky-high heels. “Do I look like I watch a lot of baseball?”
I examine her over the rim of my glass, taking in every exquisite detail. “No. But then again, I’ve always been taught not to judge a book by its cover.”
Her head tilts, and she gapes at me. “Says the man who thought I was a hooker…”
Ouch.
That one stings a little because I never should have said it, and she’s absolutely right to point out my folly.
“I apologized for that…”
She offers a look that makes my heart flip in my chest—some mix of playful coyness and alluring. “Uh-huh. So, what does ‘batting 500’ mean?”
“It means hitting fifty percent of the pitches thrown to you. That’s considered a very good average in baseball, but I meant it in regard to their children.”
Her gaze softens, her lips twisting slightly. “I don’t…understand.”
I snort and take a longer pull from my glass, wishing it were easier to forget all my failures.
This isn’t something I should be telling a complete stranger, especially not someone who clearly has had an agenda from day one, but after weeks of running from them—fromit—I can’t seem to stop myself.
It’s like some part of meneedsto talk about it, to unload the baggage I’ve been carrying around with me, along with my guilt.
“My father’s the family attorney, and my older brother, Isaac, is his protégé and has essentially taken over after my father had?—”
I clear my throat, struggling to get the picture of him lying in that hospital bed on a ventilator after being shot out of my head.
It takes far longer to clear than I want it to.
That pain and panic clog my throat the same way it did that day the shots rang out at Hawke’s Daily Grind.
“He had some medical problems and is kind of being forced to retire—as much as he ever will.”
Allegra nods slowly, swirling her drink as she watches me, acutely aware of the shift in the mood. “And you didn’t have any interest in that—becoming a lawyer?”
“I didn’t have any interest in becoming anything.”
Shit.
The answer slips out before I can stop it.
