Page 77 of Little Bird
But the lecture in my head gets louder the longer I have my hands on her, and before long it’s shouting that what I’m doing is wrong and against the rules, and I can’t take it anymore. I break the kiss and stare at her for a long moment, putting my fingertips to her lips and brushing them slightly. God, she’s beautiful. And I want her so much it feels like violence in my veins, impossible to control or tamp down.
Instead of giving in, I kiss her gently one more time, then turn and leave the kitchen, taking myself out into the garage and then into the driveway for a natural cold shower. And I know I’m being stupid and blind and stubborn and hurting us both in the process.
But I’m doing it to protect her. And when it comes down to it, that’s all that matters.
taryn
I watched Gunner walk out, torn between fury and surprise, and something colder and darker that feels a whole lot like betrayal.
What. The actual. Fuck.
That man. Seriously, that man. One minute he’s telling me I’m not welcome here and the next he’s looking at me like I’m an angel on Earth and he can’t believe I’m actually real. Then he kisses me like his life depends on it... and then walks out like none of it meant anything.
And this is after I’ve found him asleep in my bed at least once. Twice, if my dreams are anything to go by.
I grit my teeth, edging toward furious at the situation. I’m here in fucking Hawke’s Wood for the first time in years, and instead of the warm, homey welcome I was hoping for, I’ve found two men who barely talk to each other and can’t even be honest about their own fucking feelings. Gabe changes his mind about me the moment his friends are around or we’re in public, and Gunner can’t even make his mind up in private.
Neither of them has bothered talking to me about any of this, of course, and though I want to be generous with them because they’re family–—sort of–—I’m suddenly feeling a lot more like saying they’re just like all men. Incapable of being emotionally honest or open. Or even grown up.
A voice in my mind reminds me that I just slept with one of them and thought that his arms were where I’d always belonged, and that I may have found Heaven, and I acknowledge that. It’s true; I just slept with Gabe, and it may have been the most mind-blowing experience of my entire life. But coming home and having this strange interaction with Gunner has overshadowed the joy and elation of feeling Gabe sliding into me, his eyes pinning me to the bed of the truck while he fucked me.
Something shifts inside me, and I realize that I’m still wet from Gabe, his seed soaking into my panties as it drips out of me. I’m sensitive and hot and a little bit sore, and my heart is still singing with the memory of how he felt.
So maybe Gunner hasn’t overshadowed his son as much as I thought. But that doesn’t change my anger at the older Hawke.
My phone rings then, taking my mind from both of my men, and I hold it up to my ear, grateful for the distraction.
“Yes?” I ask sharply.
The voice on the other end of the line pauses, probably surprised at the way I answered, but then proceeds to tell me that the things I’ve asked for are ready.
And this is even more a distraction than I thought. I’ve been in communication with my lawyer in the city, trying to get some details worked out, and he said he would send things up here for me to sign–—specifically a plan to be free of my mother and Johnny Massimo sooner rather than later. If the guy on the line right now is telling the truth, it means the attorney came through for me faster than he thought he would.
“You have everything?” I ask, breathless with excitement. Because if he has everything, that means I’ll be able to sign my way into a divorce from my mother. And make sure everything that belongs to me is secure before she realizes what I’m doing.
“Not everything,” the guy says. “We have the first documents, but these have to go to the judge for a ruling before we can file the rest. Still, it’s a step.”
Just a step. The joy rushing through my veins dies down a little bit at that, because this isn’t the answer I wanted. But a step is better than nothing.
I slant my eyes toward the window and take in the darkness outside. “Where should I meet you?”
“Penny Royal’s, in Wood,” he says quickly. “I’m only up here for the night and I don’t plan to stay, so the quicker you can get here, the better.”
I’m already on my way to the fixture on the wall where the Hawke men keep their keys. I select the key that belongs to one of Gabe’s sports bikes and smile into the phone. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
It’s dark out for a meeting with a lawyer’s messenger, and technically I’m not supposed to take any of the vehicles out. Gunner still hasn’t forgiven me for wrecking the truck.
But I need this paperwork done, and this messenger is only here for the night. I know Penny’s in town, and this shouldn’t be a long trip. With luck, I’ll get there, sign the papers, and get back before Gabe or Gunner have even noticed I’m missing.
And when I get back, I’ll be one step closer to freedom from my mother.
Penny Royal’s is on Main Street in town, and looks exactly like you’d expect a dive bar in a small town to look. One corner is taken up by a pool table, another hosting an air hockey table. The bar takes up one entire wall, and a stage is propped up on another. The place is old and run down, but instead of looking trashy, the decline looks like it’s intentional. Like the entire place was ordered out of a vintage catalog and came pre-built. The bar itself is one huge slab of what looks like redwood, and I wonder for a moment if Gunner’s grandfather is the one who cut that tree up and shaped it.
This is, after all, the town that man founded. It would make sense if he’s also the one who built the bar.
The place is dressed up for Christmas, of course, so there are two Christmas trees in here, plus a truly staggering amount of holly, mistletoe, and pine boughs. The walls are heavy with decorations and lights, and the ceiling has row upon row of fairy lights strung up. More fairy lights drape through the bottles behind the bar, and the bartender is wearing a Santa hat.
This makes me laugh, because it feels like high schoolers came in here and went crazy with the decorations, and that makes no sense for a bar. The people in here also don’t seem to notice the decor at all. They’re all staring morosely into their beers like they don’t want to notice the world around them, and after a quick glance around the room, I start to build a mental picture of who’s here. It’s 9 on a Tuesday night, a week before Christmas, and these people are in a bar, mostly by themselves. They’re not at home decorating or wrapping presents.
