Page 11 of Silent Dust
That memory stung now as he struggled to push it aside and focus on the present. He needed to be strong, to be the leader his team depended on.
6 - HAWK
The Kowalski house,usually a whirlwind of chaotic energy, felt deceptively calm. Kenzi and Amelia were nestled in Aunt Lindsey’s comforting embrace, surprisingly cheerful, their usual boisterousness only slightly muted. Lindsay navigated the delicate balance of providing the girls with a sense of normalcy while addressing their unspoken anxieties. As their godmother, she had always been close to them, and now she stood as their primary source of comfort and stability in the face of their parents’ challenges. She showered them with affection, engaging them in playful activities designed to distract them from their worries.
Kenzi, the imaginative and spirited five-year-old, flitted around the room like a butterfly, her energy infectious. Her bright eyes sparkled with mischief as she tried to sneak a cookie from the counter. “Aunt Lindsey, can we build a volcano after our snack?” she chirped, her enthusiasm bubbling just beneath the surface. Her curious mind was filled with questions about how things worked, a trait she had inherited from her mother.
Amelia, the three-year-old princess of the family, sat cross-legged on the floor, her focus unwavering as she meticulously dressed her beloved stuffed bear, Moose, in a mismatched dolloutfit. Named after one of her father’s teammates, Moose was her confidant and partner in imaginative play. “Rhys,” she announced with a regal flair, her voice filled with certainty, “my bear wants tea.” Her large eyes sparkled as she looked up, seeking validation for her imaginative play. Despite her young age, Amelia had a quick wit and a knack for sarcasm that often caught her family off guard. “And make sure it’s not too hot, or Moose will get grumpy!” she added, a playful smirk crossing her lips.
Rhys, the nine-year-old anchor of the family, sat at the kitchen table, brow furrowed in concentration as he painstakingly sliced an apple into thin, even wedges, just as his mother had taught him. His movements reflected his desire to maintain order amidst the chaos. “Here, Kenzi,” he said, sliding a plate toward his sister. “Don’t eat too fast. You don’t want to choke.” He took immense pride in being the big brother, especially during their father’s military duties.
“Thanks, Rhys!” Kenzi replied, her eyes lighting up as she grabbed a slice. “But I can handle it! Did you know that apples float in water? I read it in a book!” She often tried to share her excitement for science with her siblings, even if they didn’t always listen.
“Yeah, because they’re less dense than water. Maybe we can do a science experiment later?” Rhys suggested, hoping to engage her mind and keep her from bothering Aunt Lindsey. However, impatience crept into his tone.
“Rhys, just let her enjoy the apple,” Lindsey said quietly, “She knows how to eat it safely.”
Rhys shot her a look, his brow knitting together. “I know that, Aunt Lindsey, but she’s just so… reckless sometimes.” His voice was sharper than he intended, fueled by an overprotectiveness that had taken hold of him since Flora’s hospitalization.
Lindsey paused, taken aback by his tone. “Rhys, she’s just a kid. It’s okay for her to have fun. You don’t need to worry so much.”
“I’m not worried!” Rhys snapped, immediately regretting his words as he saw the hurt in Lindsey’s eyes, but unable to apologize. “I just want to make sure she’s safe.”
Amelia, bounced into the room, “Can I be the princess scientist? I wear my tiara!” She adjusted an imaginary crown on her head, her playful spirit momentarily lightening the mood.
“Of course, Princess Amelia,” Rhys replied, forcing a smile as warmth spread in his chest. “Every good scientist needs a royal assistant.”
Hawk stood silently in the doorway, observing the scene. He’d noticed the subtle shift in Rhys’s demeanor, the forced calm, the strained patience, and the way the boy’s shoulders seemed to slump under the invisible weight of responsibility he carried. As a retired Navy SEAL and Bear’s former team leader, Hawk recognized the depth of Rhys’s struggle. The boy was shouldering far more than a nine-year-old should have to. Witnessing him suppress his emotions while caring for his younger sisters tugged at Hawk’s heart.
He stepped forward, his presence a quiet authority in the peaceful kitchen. Placing a gentle hand on Rhys’s shoulder, he offered support and understanding. “Rhys,” he said softly, his voice a comforting counterpoint to the tension that hung in the air, “can I have a moment of your time? We need to talk privately.”
Rhys froze, momentarily startled by the interruption. A flicker of worry crossed his face, a fleeting fear that he’d done something wrong or that something worse had happened to his parents. But seeing Hawk’s expression, he nodded, his movement stiff and as he followed Hawk toward the quiet solitude of the living room, where they could speak in private.
The living room was a haven away from the controlled chaos of the kitchen. Kenzi and Amelia, oblivious to the worry and fear that Rhys was shouldering, chattered excitedly in the kitchen, their voices a playful counterpoint to the quiet intensity that hung between Hawk and Rhys. As they settled into the quiet, Hawk watched Rhys carefully. The boy’s posture was tense, shoulders hunched as if he were physically carrying the weight of the world. Hawk knew he had to approach this delicately; Rhys needed to feel safe and understood, not just as a child but as a young man grappling with emotions far beyond his years.
“Rhys,” Hawk began, his voice low and steady, “I wanted to talk to you about your mom and dad.” He paused, gauging Rhys’s reaction. The boy’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of fear in his expression.
Hawk took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “Your mom is getting better. The doctors are really optimistic, and she’s fighting hard. I know it’s been tough not having her around, but she’s strong, just like you.” He watched as Rhys’s expression shifted, the tension in his brow easing ever so slightly.
“And your dad…” Hawk continued, “he’s still on a mission, but I want you to know that he’s safe. He’s doing his job, and he’s thinking about you and your sisters every moment. He’ll be back as soon as he can.”
Rhys nodded, but his eyes betrayed a deeper turmoil. The boy’s internal struggle was evident, and Hawk sensed that there was more beneath the surface. “Rhys,” he said gently, “it’s okay to feel upset or confused about everything happening right now. You’re carrying a lot on your shoulders.”
His gaze dropped to the floor, his voice barely a whisper. “I just… I want everything to be normal again.” The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken fears and feelings.
Hawk took a step closer, leaning in slightly to encourage him to open up. “What do you mean by ‘normal’?” he asked, trying to gauge what was really bothering him.
Rhys hesitated, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right words. “It’s just… everything feels different. Mom’s not here, and Dad’s away. It’s not how it used to be.”
Hawk nodded, letting him know he was listening. “I get that. It’s hard when things change. But sometimes, talking about it can help. Is there something specific that’s been on your mind?”
Rhys shifted uncomfortably, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “I found some papers on the desk when I went into their office,” he finally admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “Divorce papers.”
Hawk hadn’t seen that coming. “Oh, Rhys,” he said softly, his heart aching for the boy. “That’s a lot to process. How did that make you feel?”
Rhys’eyes filled with tears, and he swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to see them. I just… I don’t want things to change. I want my family back.”
Empathy surged within Hawk. “I understand. It’s okay to be scared. But remember, your parents love you, and that won’t change.”
