What hurt the most about the revelation, besides knowing how raw the outright violation of his privacy made Hawke, was knowing he couldn’t confide in me when we were dating. Maybe things would have been different if I had known why he was so reckless with his safety, why he had such severe mood swings. Or maybe things would have been exactly the same.
I’ll never know. Plus, who am I to talk? I never told Hawke about Nick. It was too painful. Talking about my brother was like having my very soul yanked out of my body, torn to shreds, and stuffed back inside the hollow shell in a jumbled mess. It still is.
My heart clenches at the memory of my brother lying in the ICU, my parents sobbing over his lifeless form. I realize that maybe neither one of us has healed at all. Not one tiny bit. Maybe we’re both destined to be haunted by our pasts for the rest of our lives. Maybe we can’t be friends, and this entire thing will end up exactly like it did seven years ago.
Maybe it will, but even that knowledge isn’t going to stop me. Doctor heal thyself? Yeah, right. I’ll work on that in my next life. For now, I’m diving headfirst into an empty pool, praying I won’t split my skull on the concrete bottom, all for the chance to help my sometimes friend, my ex-lover, the without a doubt most important person in my life.
Hawke is hurting, and it will be worth every bit of pain I suffer if I can take away even just a little bit of his.
Hawke
“Can you guys stop sucking face for half a second?”
I fake a glare at my best friend, Gavin, and his boyfriend, an ex-FBI profiler named Mitch. I’m not actually mad—I mean, how can I be? If anyone deserves happiness, it’s Gavin. Especially after the way his dad treated him growing up and the more recent events involving a crazy, murdering stalker.
Gavin tears his mouth away from Mitch’s to raise an eyebrow at me while Mitch lifts a hand to his own face to hide his amusement. “Jealous?” Gavin asks.
I lean against the granite countertop in Gavin’s gleaming white and stainless steel kitchen and stare out the wall of windows to watch the Pacific crash against the beach. Gavin and I spent the early morning hours surfing the rolling waves. My eyes flick back to Gavin and Mitch. Grinning, I shake my head.
“Not jealous, dude. But we’re going to be late and Kate is going to have our balls. Personally, I have no problem letting her know we’re late because you two were all over each other.”
I smirk when Gavin inhales sharply and winces. Mitch’s mouth falls open at the betrayal. “You wouldn’t,” he says.
“You think I’m going up against Kate?” I snort. “Hell no! I wouldn’t hesitate to toss your sorry asses right under the bus.”
“Maybe you should finish getting ready,” Gavin murmurs to Mitch. Gavin turns and pushes his worried boyfriend toward the stairs. “Hawke’s right. She’ll kill us.”
Mitch scowls, but does as he’s told. He’s halfway up the stairs when he calls out, “You know Adam is going to be later than everyone.”
Once the door to the master bedroom closes, Gavin grins. “He’s right. Plus, even if we are late, once Adam strolls in an hour later, Kate will forget about us and be all over him.”
I laugh. “You do realize she does that because she loves giving him a hard time?”
“I know.” Gavin smiles and runs a hand through his unkempt blond hair. “Doesn’t make it any less entertaining.”
A few minutes later, Mitch’s heavy footsteps thump down the stairs. “Are we leaving?” He shoves his wallet into the back pocket of his faded jeans and checks a small black handgun before securing it in a holster on his ankle and tugging the hem of his pants over it.
“A gun? To a party at Dax’s?” I ask, gaping. “There’s going to be children there.”
Mitch shoots me a look. “After what happened with Gavin, I take my gun everywhere.”
Yesterday, I spent the night so I could surf with Gavin this morning. Now we have to drive separately since I have my car here. We head out to our cars as Gavin locks the house.
“Don’t argue with Utah about guns,” Gavin says, using his Point Break-inspired nickname for his boyfriend. “You won’t win.”
I nod, and honestly, I can’t blame Mitch for being overprotective. About six months ago, Gavin almost died at the hands of a psychotic stalker. That’s how the two of them met. When our manager and my uncle, Ross, hired Mitch to run private security and find out who was leaving the horrific notes and gory gifts for Gavin in our hotel rooms, backstage at our shows… everywhere. It was a very stressful time for everyone.
We end up thirty minutes late getting to Dax and Kate’s rental house. Traffic was horrific. Even on weekends you can count on at least one major incident on the LA freeways, if you’re lucky. That’s why I live in West Hollywood. It’s convenient. No way could I live an hour outside the city like Gavin, and now Mitch since he moved in a few weeks ago.
Mitch nods at the large, intimidating man guarding the front door. “Good. They have extra security,” he says approvingly.
We wait outside while the guy speaks to someone on a wireless link to confirm we’re on some list, which is ridiculous in my opinion. Who the fuck doesn’t know that Gavin and I work with Dax? After getting the third degree, we’re allowed inside.
“Gavin, Hawke, Mitch!” Ellie, Adam’s wife, greets us from the kitchen, where she’s wiping their daughter’s hands with a paper towel.
“Shit,” Mitch hisses, halting his steps. “Adam beat us here.”
“Damn. I forgot about El,” Gavin whispers back. “She always rides Adam’s ass to make sure they’re not late.”