Hawk (The Boys of Summer 4)

“How’s the shoulder?”

“Sore.”

“Imagine so.”

Warner has taken a spill or two. One time, he and Alan were being stupid and decided to race each other on horseback. Warner’s horse spooked and bucked Warner right into a tree. He couldn’t work for three months because of a concussion. According to my sister, that was my fault too because my dad decided to take the afternoon off to watch my game on television. How many grown men need a babysitter? Two . . . and they both happen to be married to my sisters.

“When do you go back?”

Here we go.

I tilt my head from side-to-side, popping my neck. “Twelve weeks, give or take.”

“Rehab?”

“Yep.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if you did that in Boston?”

I set my mug down on the railing and turn toward cowboy Warner. “What’s your problem?”

“You,” he states so matter-of-factly that for a moment I feel as if I’ve done something wrong. “Your presence here bothers your sister.”

“So, what? She can get over herself. This is our parents’ house, not hers.”

“It ain’t about the house, Hawk. It’s your life. It’s about Nolan.”

“Nolan? What does he have to do with me being here?”

Warner brings his mug to his mouth and takes a long drink as he looks out over the ranch. “Nolan idolizes you.”

“I have a clean image, Warner.”

“It’s not about your image, it’s about baseball. He wants to play.”

“Let him.”

“See that’s where your sister and I disagree. We’re ranchers.”

I have no idea what sound comes from me. It sounds like a laugh, but it’s more like complete disgust and disbelief. “No, Warner, you’re a rancher. Nolan is a ten-year-old boy who wants to run amok, play sports, fish in creeks and kiss a girl behind the barn. No different than you when you were his age.”

“I knew this is what I wanted to do.”

I shake my head. “Only bec

ause at fifteen you were in love with my sister and you figured the only way to win her affection was to come work for my dad. You were just never smart enough to leave.” I don’t give Warner a chance to respond. I leave him standing on the porch and return to the house. I have therapy later and the drive to Missoula is going to take two damn hours.

In the kitchen, my mom is standing at the sink. I go to her, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “The sunrise was beautiful.”

“It always is.” She nods toward the porch. “Elizabeth is scared.”

“Of what? Nolan not following in his father’s bootstraps?” I think my humor is funny, but it seems that my mother does not.

Mom turns the faucet on and holds her hand under the water. I’ve seen her do this a million times. She’s waiting for the water to warm so she can fill the sink with suds to wash the dishes that have already piled in the sink. Warner, and likely Alan, are unable to clean up after themselves.

“It takes a village to run a ranch.”

“They should have more kids then.”