They’re more alike than Hawk realizes.
“Declan, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“When you said Hawk was changing things, did you mean you and James won’t be able to live at the house anymore?”
He nods and I see the worry in his eyes when his gaze shifts momentarily to his son.
“Does he know you want to stay? He won’t kick you out. Why would he?”
“You don’t understand our past, Melissa.”
“When he goes back to Las Vegas—”
“Do you think he’ll go back?” Declan asks it like it’s a question, but I think he’s trying to tell me Hawk will be staying.
I look at him. I just assumed…
“This is home to him. To all of us. Being a Highlander, you’re tied to this land. This wild, unforgiving country. No place is home but Scotland no matter how long you’re away.”
“This is my home now.”
I remember when Hawk said that a while back about Las Vegas and even then, I didn’t believe it for a second. Maybe Declan’s right.
“All right now, James,” Mary says, and we look up to see the two of them return with three giant hunks of cake, setting one in front of each of us.
“Can you eat all that?” I ask James.
He nods, enthusiastically digging in.
Declan breaks off a piece with his fork. “You’ll understand why when you taste it.”
I smile and am about to take a bite of my own slice when I hear the door open and feel the cool wind it blows in.
Declan’s expression changes immediately and my back suddenly goes rigid.
I hear Mary’s surprised gasp and I don’t have to turn to know who it is.
I feel him. I always feel him.
“Uncle Hawk! You came!” James yells happily, oblivious to the tension.
I look up to find Hawk towering over us, eyes locked on Declan who sits back, puts the bite of cake into his own mouth and gives him a mocking grin.
“Welcome, brother,” he says around the food.
Hawk turns to me and I think I’d wither if it wasn’t for James’ excitement.
“Uncle Hawk, you should try this cake. It’s the best ever, I mean it. You can try a bite of my dad’s.”
Hawk walks around me to take the seat next to mine and looks at his nephew.
“Nice glasses, James,” he says. “You look very handsome.”
“Thank you,” James says proudly.
“And I’d rather try a bite of yours,” Hawk says.
James hugs his cake closer.
I see Hawk’s smile.
“Double espresso,” he tells Mary when she comes to the table.
She studies him with raised eyebrows. “Well, hello to you, Hawk.”
Hawk looks up at the woman, maybe surprised by her reprimand.
“Hello, Mary. Good to see you,” he says.
“Same.” She smiles. “How about a plain-old coffee, Mr. Fancy with your espresso,” she makes a face as she says the last word and even Hawk has to smile.
“Coffee’s fine, Mary. Thank you.”
She lingers. “You’ve grown, Hawk. Changed.”
“Thirteen years will do that to you.”
She nods. “Well, it’s good to see you’ve returned home.” She pats his back. “I’ll get you a slice of cake with your coffee. I remember you used to love it.”
“All right. Thank you.”
She looks between the brothers and walks away.
Hawk takes us in. “Cozy.”
Declan smiles and puts another bite of cake into his mouth.
Hawk turns to me, wraps a possessive hand around the back of my neck. “You and I will have a talk when we’re home.”
I feel Declan’s eyes on me. Feel my face heat up.
Before I need to respond, though, Mary returns with Hawk’s coffee and cake.
“James, go get us some whipped cream,” Declan says, never taking his eyes off his brother.
“Really?” James bounces excitedly out of his seat in an instant.
“I figure you have something to say,” Declan tells Hawk as soon as James is out of earshot.
Hawk leans toward him. “You’re not stealing from me again. I’ll kill you before I let that happen.”
Declan leans forward and all I can think is how flimsy the table between them is.
“That’s twice you’ve told me you’ll kill me. Do I look worried to you?”
“Where’s the boy’s mother?” Hawk asks. “Ran for the hills when she got to know you?”
Declan’s eyes darken. He sits back in his chair and puts his fork down. “Sarah passed away two years ago. Doctors found the tumor days after James’ birth.”
I cover my mouth in surprise and glance to Hawk to see he’s shaken too.
“Not what you expected?” Declan asks.
Hawk looks down at his plate, rubs his forehead.
“Fuck.” He looks up at Declan. “That was—”
“Cold?” Declan inserts. “Unfeeling? Cruel?”
Hawk takes a deep breath in, nods. “All of those and more. I’m sorry for your loss. And for what I said.”
Declan nods too, any accusation vanished, only weight left behind, the weight of a heavy loss. “So am I,” he says.
James returns with Mary behind him holding on to the bowl of whipped cream.
“It’s even better with cream,” he says.