Craving Hawk (The Aces' Sons 3)

“That’s good,” I replied scratchily, then cleared my throat. “I’m glad.”

“I don’t know how much you know about the shooting,” Farrah said, her voice uncharacteristically solemn.

“Nothing really,” I murmured, shaking my head. “Only what I heard on the news.”

Callie made a surprised noise in her throat and sniffled.

“It was bad,” Farrah told me. “Real bad. Just another family barbecue, Gram’s birthday, and then in the blink of an eye, total chaos. We were dropping, just—” she shook her head, her eyes wide. “We were just dropping. Like fucking flies. And Micky,” she choked out. “He was covering Tommy. Completely covering him. When Grease got to them, Tommy didn’t have a scratch on him.”

I shook my head, staring at her in disbelief. Oh God. No.

“I tried to get to them,” Callie said, lifting her palms out in front of her. “I tried, but—”

Farrah reached out and handed Callie her cup of coffee, then patted her on the back.

“Callie dropped like a fly, too,” Farrah said, making Callie choke on the hot coffee.

“Tommy was physically fine,” Callie said quietly when she stopped coughing. “Mick made sure of that. But something like that changes you.”

“I didn’t know,” I replied, wiping at the tears rolling down my face. “No one told me.”

“I don’t know if you can forgive him,” Callie said. “And I’d never ask you to. Not after last night. But I just wanted you to know the why of it, you know?”

“No,” Melanie spoke up for the first time, shaking her head. “No. You don’t get to do that. I’m so sorry for everything your family has been through. I can’t even imagine what that must have been like for you. But you don’t get to come in here and guilt my sister into forgiving your son. I saw him last night. And I saw her.” She pointed at me. “He completely terrorized her. My little sister who isn’t afraid of anything. She shook all night. Even in her sleep.”

Callie sat up straight and nodded. “That was never my intention,” she said, looking at me. “I would never try to excuse my son’s behavior or try to make you feel like you have to forgive him.”

“She meddles,” Farrah muttered.

“I remember what it was like,” Callie said, lifting her hand to her mouth again until Farrah slapped it away. “I remember how Asa felt when I lost it. So, I guess I just wanted to tell you that last night wasn’t your fault. Not at all. And Tommy’s going to get help.”

“Of course it wasn’t her fault,” my sister shot back.

“Mel,” I cut her off, shaking my head. “Enough.”

I wanted to both hug my sister for defending me, and smack her for being so rude. I understood Mel’s defense of me, but I understood where Callie was coming from, too. She loved Tommy and she understood him, and if there was any chance I could forgive him, she wanted him to have that.

And I could forgive him. I’d known something was very wrong the night before. His reactions hadn’t been normal. The fact he’d had to be physically restrained more than once wasn’t normal. But the fact he was sick didn’t mean I’d ever willingly put myself in that position again.

I’d been someone’s punching bag before.

“I’m glad Tommy is going to get the help he needs,” I said softly, looking back and forth between Farrah and Callie. “But I don’t think I can go back. I’m sorry.”

Callie nodded her head, but Farrah just stared at me, a weird look of pride on her face.

We didn’t say much after that.

When they left, they took Tommy’s duffle full of clothes with them.

As soon as they did, I curled up in the middle of my bed and cried myself to sleep.

* * *

Life resumed its usual pattern, but I began to think of things as before Tommy and after Tommy.

Before Tommy I could focus on homework.

After Tommy I had a hard time passing my classes.

Before Tommy a quiet night at home was my favorite activity.

After Tommy my own company made me miserable.

Before Tommy I left windows open at night and added an extra blanket on my bed.

After Tommy, my apartment was closed up like a tomb, yet I still couldn’t get warm.

The before and afters were endless and relentless.

I wasn’t sure how less than two weeks with him had changed me so completely, but the evidence was clear. I was miserable without him.

I didn’t regret my decision, not even for a moment, but I did wonder about him constantly. I wondered how he was doing, if he’d gone to a counselor or a psychologist, if he was getting better. I worried that he wasn’t taking care of himself. I thought about what the fallout must have been after his parents learned about Mick. I wondered if they’d celebrated when his case was dropped.