Page 127 of Songbird: Black Kite
I narrowed my eyes at Denise before I turned to Wren, waiting for her to take the lead on this one. It was more than obvious that she and Denise had a history of bullshit; Wren’s first letter to me had indicated as much, but seeing the two of them together all these years later proved that Denise had never really moved on from her schoolyard bully mentality.
But as I waited for Wren to speak, she never even looked up, her arms crossed over her chest and her shoulders curled in. Looking at her, sitting there trying to disappear before my very eyes, made me want to rage. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to go full fuckin’ rock star on this piece of shit town. Throw chairs, flip tables, toss Jason fuckin’ McQueen through the plate-glass window and into the street. I wanted to take Denise apart piece by piece, starting with her fake eyelashes. I wanted to tear her down until the only thing that remained was a sniveling, desperate worm of a woman, and then I wanted to place her at Wren’s feet, where she belonged.
“Come on, baby,” I said, holding out my hand to Wren and ignoring Denise’s question all together. “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”
For a second, she didn’t move, her eyes still firmly on the twisted linen napkin in her lap. But when I didn’t pull back, when I continued to ignore Denise and her husband and the hushed whispers of the nosy people all around us—several of whom were filming us now that Jason had outed me to the whole place—Wren finally lifted her head, her wide, hazel eyes wet. I smiled at her, and as she placed her hand in mine, a single fat tear rolled down her cheek. Once she was standing, I lifted my hands to her face, cupping her cheeks as I thumbed away the tear, swearing to myself that it would be the last one she ever cried over that bitch.
Wren closed her eyes, and I couldn’t help myself; I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before stepping back and releasing her.
“If you’ll excuse us,” I said, my anger clear in my voice as I pulled out my wallet and counted out five one-hundred-dollar bills, tossing them into the center of the table. “Wren and I have plans.” Taking her hand, I pulled Wren along, pausing when we were a few steps from the table, turning back to see the look of outrage painted on Denise’s face. “And I mean it with the utmost sincerity when I say, get fucked, you phony, try-hard bitch.”
Chapter seventy-three
Wren
Present
Iwasbreathingwaytoo hard, considering we had only walked to the parking lot.
The minute Hawk had pulled up outside the restaurant, I had known going inside would be a mistake. The idea of me anywhere near that place was a joke, never mind actually sitting at a table inside like I belonged there.
And it turned out I had been right. The evening had been a complete and utter disaster.
Hawk was stomping along, his hand clutching mine like he thought I’d run away, but he couldn’t have been more wrong.
I was clinging to him like a lifeline, afraid that the second I let go, he’d disappear, like smoke in the wind.
Like a dream.
Because that’s exactly what he was. A dream made real.
No one in my life had ever defended me like that. Had stood up to Denise and her bullshit on my behalf, and I wasn’t exactly sure what to do with the feelings that were beginning to stir inside me.
Allkindsof feelings.
We reached the Escalade, Hawk clicking the button on the fob aggressively, then opening my door and ushering me inside. After I was seated, he leaned in, dragging the seatbelt across by chest and clipping it.
Once I was secure enough for his liking, he stopped, hands on the roof of the truck as he looked at me, his own breaths coming just as fast as my own.
“Baby,” he said, sounding pained. “That was—Fuck, Wren! I don’t even know what the hell that was, but you can bet your pretty little ass we are gonna talk about it.” I blinked, not sure if my surprise came from his vehemence or from the fact that he’d just called me pretty.
Well, my ass, anyway.
“But right now, I need to kiss you, Bird. Can I do that? Please?”
He looked desperate, his blue eyes staring down at me with such heat and intensity that I literally couldn’t do anything but nod.
Taking one hand off the roof, Hawk leaned in, cupping my cheek and turning me to face him before he pressed his lips to mine. It wasn’t exactly a tender kiss, his firm mouth pressing hard before he opened, trailing his tongue across the seam of my lips as he asked for more. Once I granted him access, he took my mouth like a man possessed, as though he was trying to erase every trace of the last ten minutes from our minds through sheer force of will alone.
Bringing up my own hand, I placed it tentatively on his chest, the feel of his heart against my palm steadying me, grounding me, as I deepened the kiss from my end, too. Bringing his free hand up, Hawk held me to his chest, curling our fingers together and holding them over his heart as he continued to kiss me like he never wanted to stop.
Eventually, he did, though, resting his forehead against mine as he caught his breath.
“Thank you,” he whispered, then pressed another quick peck to my mouth before stepping back, closing the door, and moving to the other side of the truck and climbing behind the wheel.
As he turned the key and pulled away, I noticed Jason and a few other people standing outside the restaurant, their phones up as they recorded everything. The ball of elation that had been building in my stomach during Hawk’s kiss fizzled out, sinking to the bottom like a stone in a well.
At first, we just drove, music up and windows down as Hawk navigated the streets of Grand Rapids with the carelessness of someone who had no idea where they were going, just that they needed to keep moving. Looking out the window, I reveled in the feel of the wind on my face as I watched the tired streets of my childhood go by, memories of a thousand interactions, just like the one we’d just experienced, filling me with sadness.
