But all I can hear is the steady, brutal pounding of my own heart.And in my head, the sound of Hawk’s voicemail greeting.
He’s not picking up.
And Belinda is gone.
41
HAWK
I screechinto the hospital parking lot and toss my key fob to the valet attendant with nothing more than a nod.He can get my license plate number.Right now I have to get to Eagle.
I make my way to the fifth floor.
Falcon stands outside Eagle’s room, hands in his pockets, shoulders tight.Savannah is next to him.
“How is he?”My voice comes out rough.
“Better.”Falcon’s jaw ticks.“Stable.Docs think he’s going to make it.”
I breathe.It doesn’t help much.
“Anybody else know?”I ask.
“No.”He shakes his head.“He asked to see you first.After that, I’ll call Mom.Then everyone else.”
“You called me before Mom?”I shake my head.“She’ll never forgive you for that.”
“I did what Eagle asked.”Falcon sighs.“It felt all wrong, but he was adamant.”
Savannah touches Falcon’s arm.“Give them some time,” she says, her voice soft.
Falcon looks back at me.“I think he wants to apologize to you.”
I stare at the little window in the door.The silhouette in the bed.Tubes.Lines.Too still.“I need to apologize tohim,” I say.
Falcon cocks his head.“To him?Why?”
“Later.”I push the door open and step into the room.
Eagle looks the same except that his eyes are now open.That’s new.
Bruises bloom at the crook of his elbow.There’s a dressing on his forearm, fresh, the edges clean.Another bit of tape on his shoulder.
I stand there and let the guilt choke me for a second.It’s easier than walking forward.Then I do the thing I came to do.
“Hey.”I keep my voice low.“Eagle.”
His eyelids open wider.Not all the way.
“Hey,” I say again.I stop closer, my hand on the rail.“It’s me.”
He grimaces.It could be a smile if you squint.“Hawk.”His voice is dry as the desert.
“Yeah.”I reach for the cup on the tray, the one with the stupid bendy straw.“You want water?”
He nods.I lift the straw to his mouth.
When he’s done, he lets his head roll back.The monitor bumps up but then settles.