My dad just stares, seemingly at a loss for words. I walk slowly into the living room, my hands tucked into my pockets again to hide the fact they're slightly shaking.
"Those cookies look great," Hawke says as he nods toward the plate in my dad's hands.
"Want one?" my dad says, and then shoots a questioning glance my way. I just shrug my shoulders and hold on to my silence.
"Actually," Hawke says as he turns to me, his gaze wary and needful all at the same time. "I need to talk to Vale."
"Okay," my dad says a little more exuberantly than needed. He sets the plate of cookies down on the table. "I think I'll just head down to the pub for a beer with the boys. Give you two some privacy."
I don't say a word. Not even a friendly reminder to my dad that he can only have one beer. I just watch as he grabs his coat from the rack in the living room corner and shrugs it on. He steps up to me, kisses me on the cheek, and whispers, "Don't be too tough on him. That boy is here to apologize."
I blink in surprise but give him a soft smile of understanding. I'd like to say I'm angry at Hawke, and maybe I am just a little, but I have no desire to rail against him. I just don't have it in me to compound the pain either one of us is feeling. Besides, Hawke carries enough of that for both of us.
Once my dad is gone, Hawke glances at the tree. "It's nice."
"Yeah," I agree quietly. "Dad wanted to get it up early...celebrate, you know?"
Hawke nods and strokes his beard, cutting his eyes back over to me. "I saw Avery a bit ago."
"Did she slap you?" I can't help but asking, because that would be so Avery.
"Sort of," he says, and I cock my head in curiosity, but he doesn't make me wait for it. "She told me you tried to call me after we broke up. Sent an email. Felt like a slap."
My jaw drops open and I narrow my eyes at him. "You sound like it was a revelation to you."
"It was," he agrees somberly. "And it had the force of a punch now that I think about it."
"You didn't know?" I ask incredulously. It's not that I don't believe him, it's just that this now starts to make complete sense.
"I didn't. Not until about fifteen minutes ago."
"I don't understand...how?"
"I had lost my phone; got a new one with a new number. I never checked my email. That shouldn't surprise you. Got a new email, which I never checked either, but that's moot...you didn't have it so you couldn't have reached out that way."
Hawke never knew I tried to make things right?
More important, Hawke wasn't purposely ignoring me. He wasn't trying to hurt me back. He was just...ignorant of it all.
"No wonder you couldn't let it go," I muse in wonder as I look down at the carpet. Looking at him hurts a little too much. "I mean...I knew I'd hurt you badly, but now I get it. You really did think I cut you out completely. Shut the door and never looked back."
"That's what I thought," he agrees, and takes a step toward me. His legs come into view and then I feel his hands on my shoulders.
"Vale," he says softly, and I tilt my face up. "I didn't know, but trust me...had I known, I would never have ignored you. Granted, I probably wouldn't have seen the email, but had I got those voice messages...please believe me, I would have called back."
"I believe you," I say automatically, but take a step back from him. His hands drop and he winces as if the distance hurts. "But if you're here to tell me that changes things--"
"It changes everything," he whispers.
"No," I say with a shake of my head and a surge of anger. "It only reinforces that my love survived hurt and betrayal but yours wasn't strong enough."
"It may not have been strong enough," he says with determination, and his hands come back up to my shoulders. He grips me gently, pulling me a little closer. "It may have been buried...even shrouded so I couldn't see it, but it was there."
"No," I say in denial, refusing to believe that it could be so.
"Yes," he says harshly, digging his fingers in reflexively. "I was ignorant, stupid, whatever. But don't tell me that it's not love. Don't you dare try to tell me what I feel right now. You have no right."
"No right?" I ask incredulously, my hands coming up to slap his chest. I start to push him backward then my fingers curl into his shirt. I pull and give a shake. "I have no right to doubt you and your feelings? You...the man who thinks it's good enough to fuck me and take everything I had to give, but couldn't even recognize what was standing right in front of him."
"You have no right," he says as his hands drop to circle around my wrists, holding me pinned there, "because you are the woman who forgives above all else. Even when you thought I had received those messages...when you thought I had just cut you off without a backward glance, you forgave me and you opened yourself up to me again. I refuse to believe you won't do it a third time. You still love me, Vale. I know you do. And I love you. So much it physically hurts when I think that I may have fucked this up for good. I am begging you not to close that door again. To give us another chance."
Tears pool in my eyes, something that would ordinarily embarrass me, but I blink without hesitation and let them break free. They make warm trails down my cheek that immediately chill in the air. "I'm scared," I say in a small voice. "I laid myself out there, opened myself up, and when you didn't give it back, you can't begin to imagine how badly that hurt."
"You're wrong," Hawke says as his arms wrap around my upper back. He contracts, pulling me all the way in so my cheek turns to rest against his chest. "I do know how it feels. I'm not playing the blame game, but just reminding you...you told me once you didn't love me, and I remember that feeling so sharply, it feels just like yesterday. So I know...I know how bad it feels, but I'm also here to tell you, we both have the power to make that go away for good."
"How?" I ask, still wanting to rebel against this notion because it's so terrifying, but finding myself snuggling into his embrace. "How do we have the power?"
"Do you really love me?" he asks gently, one hand stroking my back.
I nod into his chest. "Yes."
"Do you believe I love you? Do you accept it?"
"I don't--"
He doesn't let me finish my doubtful thoughts. He pulls back, frames my face with his hands. His thumbs dry the tears from my cheeks and he leans in to whisper a gentle kiss across my lips. My eyes close in a silent sigh, and when I open them back up, he's staring at me intently.
"Vale," he says with quiet resolve. "I've always loved you. Even when I thought I hated you, I always loved you. It's w
hy I was never in another relationship. It's why I couldn't leave you alone when you came back into my life. I may have been too stubborn to give a name to it, foolishly hiding behind a mask of anger, but you have to know, thinking back over the last few months...everything we've shared, and talked about, every time we've made love, or just held each other. Every joke and smile and every fucking moment of amazing silence between us. You have to know...you have to admit, that was my love for you. Think about it. Search deep. Tell me you know it."
Tell me you know it, he pleads desperately.
And I realize...I do know it.
I knew it with utter clarity that night by the airport where he brought me out to toast my dad's amazing miracle, and when he made love to me wrapped in cool November air...
I felt it. It wasn't in anything he said. He didn't give me promises or sweet words of encouragement. I just...felt it. It's why I was so compelled to tell him that I loved him. I was sure of our feelings for each other, so much so that I took the risk of getting hurt. I put myself out there, and yes, he did hurt me because he couldn't say it back right then, still too burdened down with the ambiguity of our stupid past, but definitely...I knew it just as sure as I know the air I breathe is a necessity.
"You loved me," I say in revelation. "You just wouldn't believe it yourself."
"Yes," he groans in relief. "I was scared."
"Hurt," I add.
"Stupid," he says with a smile and I smile back.
"A little slow on the uptake," I offer kindly instead.
He laughs, bends to kiss me again before agreeing. "A little slow, but I'm caught up now."
My hands come up, clasp onto his wrists. I stare into the blue depths of his eyes, filled with love, happiness, and the relief that comes with knowing all is right in my world.
"So where do we go from here?" I ask him.
"Anywhere we want to," he tells me, and this I believe as well.
Epilogue
Hawke
Brian Brannon's house is a monstrosity. Which is good, because you need a place built like a palace to hold all the members of the Cold Fury organization for a Christmas party. It's his traditional party held every year on Christmas Eve, as long as the Cold Fury isn't out of town on a road trip. This year, we're here and ready to celebrate the holiday as teammates and friends.