Hawk (Sex and Bullets 2)

Crap.

Time is stuck. Her watch is stuck. Broken. Three minutes can’t take this long. It feels like half the morning has passed.

And if it turns out—?

No. It can’t.

Stop it.

I get up and start pacing again. This is bullshit. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to see the test when it’s done.

Don’t need to.

I’m done.

“Hawk loves kids,” Raylin says, and I freeze.

“What?”

“He does. He loves kids and baby animals. He tries to hide it, but Storm is his best friend. I know more about Hawk than he’d admit to anyone.”

>

Intrigued, I return to the bed. “Like what? And won’t he get mad that you go around spilling his secrets?”

“I don’t go around spilling secrets. You’re his woman. It’s different.” She sticks her tongue out at me. “Besides, there’s not so much to tell. Hawk was a menace as a kid. Shocking, I know. He was too much, so at some point his parents sent him out of town to live with his grandfather.”

“That must have been hard for him.” Though Hawk spoke of the old man with fondness, didn’t he?

“It might also have been a matter of safety. I mean, now we know his parents were heavily involved in the Organization, and maybe they thought it better for him to stay away.”

Maybe. “And Storm said Hawk likes pets and babies?”

Sounds doubtful.

“Hawk would rescue every animal he’d find and take it home to his grandfather. He liked to hang around younger kids during their afternoon classes or sports. He’s very protective.”

“I know,” I whisper.

I do know that.

“And hey, would you look at this! Time flies.” Raylin takes my hand and gets up, tugging on me to follow. “Let’s check that test.”

Swallowing down the gigantic NO that’s lodged in my throat, fighting the panic and the impulse to run away, I stumble after her into the huge bathroom.

She stops. Releases my hand. Gives me a little shove. “You should do this.” She smiles. “If you decide you don’t want to tell me the result, that’s fine. This is about you, not me.”

She’s right.

Oh God.

Okay, I’ve got this. Nothing to it. Just grab the test, look at it, and throw it into the trash. Easy peasy.

Unimportant.

I put my hand over the stick, lift it, not looking at it. My knees are knocking together. My skin is covered in gooseflesh. I bite my lip so hard I might have drawn blood.

“So? What is it?” Raylin breathes, blissfully ignoring the fact she just said I don’t have to tell her the results. “Layla.”