Unbeloved (Undeniable #4)(72)

And come hell or high water, I was determined to do just that.

? ? ?

Throughout the course of his life, Hawk had lived through some really bad days. Some real ugly shit that most times was just easier to forget than to go through the pain of working through it.

This wasn’t one of those times.

This was far, far worse.

Seated on the couch beside his son, Hawk slid his arm around the boy’s small shoulders. Holding him close, he gave Christopher one last squeeze.

“Gotta get goin’,” he said roughly. “But I’ll be seein’ you soon.”

As his son looked up at him, messy red hair framing a face full of confusion and hurt, Hawk had a hard time keeping his emotions in check. It was the first time in a long time that he’d so much as felt the urge to cry, the last time being the night after he’d watched a bullet tear through his father’s skull. Since then, he’d felt a shit ton of emotions, some good, most bad, but none that had the ability to gut him like one look from his kid could.

“Gimme a hug,” he whispered, giving Christopher a tug. As the boy turned his body into Hawk’s and wrapped his skinny arms around his neck, Hawk squeezed his eyes tightly shut and put every ounce of himself into that hug.

“You take care of your mom,” he whispered, burying his face into his son’s hair. “Promise me you’ll take care of your mom.”

Against his shoulder he felt Christopher’s head nod, and that was good enough for him.

Opening his eyes, he found Tegen already waiting to take Christopher. His chest aching, he nodded at her and released his son.

“Come here, little brother,” Tegen said softly.

Christopher clung to him, refusing to budge, and when Hawk tried to forcefully pry him from his body, the boy let out a small sob. In that moment, at the sound of his son crying, Hawk could no longer keep it together. Cupping the back of his son’s head, holding his small body tightly to him, he let his own tears fall, uncaring who saw them, and just held his boy as close as he could. Because, god-f*cking-dammit, the next time he’d have this chance, to be free to hold his boy, his boy was going to be a man.

He was going to miss it all.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, what came next was as equally miserable.

Once Christopher was in Tegen’s arms and Cage was helping Hawk to his feet, the rest of the boys began to get up from their seats. One by one they lined up by the door, their expressions ranging from solemn to just plain sad.

Holding Christopher tightly to her, Tegen grabbed Hawk’s hand, threaded her fingers through his, and gave his hand a hard squeeze. It was a surprising gesture, coming from Tegen, but one that Hawk welcomed.

“Come back to them,” she whispered. “Come back to them or I’ll come kill you.”

Using the crutch under his right arm to hold his weight, he reached for Tegen. He wrapped his hand around the back of her head and pulled her forward to kiss her soundly on her cheek. Then, after doing the same to Christopher, he started for the boys.

It was slow going with those damn crutches of his, only making the journey across the room even worse, forcing him to look longer at all those forlorn faces awaiting him.

Mick was first, and that damn softie of an old man pulled him into a gripping hug. “Might be dead by the time you get out, so I’m givin’ your ass a f*ckin’ hug.”

Beside him, Freebird snorted. “He ain’t gonna be dead,” the old hippie said. “But I will, so come ’ere and lay some sugar on me, darlin’.”

As Freebird hugged him, giving him a purposely sloppy kiss on the cheek, a titter of laughter trickled down the line of men.

Next was Dirty, and knowing that the man hated any sort of physical contact with anyone, Hawk simply held out his fist, waiting for a tap. But Dirty surprised everyone by taking Hawk’s fist between both his hands and squeezing.

“I’ll see you later, brother,” the man said. Touched, Hawk could only nod in response.

He continued down the line, saying good-bye to Bucket, Worm, Danny D. and Danny L., Tap, Anger, and Chips, and then to the nomads Marsh, Dimebag, and Tramp. Handshakes, back slaps, and more hugs than he’d ever been given before in his life were all exchanged.

When he reached Cox, despite his black eye and swollen lip, courtesy of Kami, the * was grinning.

“Remember,” Cox said. “Don’t be droppin’ the f*ckin’ soap, brother.”

Snorting, Hawk crooked a finger. “Come here, asswipe,” he said and when Cox leaned in, Hawk grabbed the back of his head and pulled him into a hug.

“You and Kami,” Hawk whispered. “Don’t let whatever bullshit she’s always spoutin’ come between you two. You keep her happy, keep you happy, and I can f*ckin’ promise you, I won’t be droppin’ any soap.”

Shoving a surprised Cox away from him, Hawk gave him a light slap across the face, flashed him a very Cox-like grin, and then turned away to face Ripper, the last man in line.

Hawk loved all his brothers, but like in all groups of friends or clubs, some people were closer than others. And although Hawk had made a point to never really get close to anyone so he could keep his past where it belonged—in the past—he’d been a loner.

So when it came to having actual friends, he didn’t have a damn one, but what he did have was Ripper. They’d clicked in some way, leaving Hawk always feeling comfortable in his presence. In his own way he’d looked out for Ripper and Ripper for him, kept each other’s secrets, and always had each other’s back. That was mutual respect, brothers to the end, and to Hawk that was far better than having a “friend.”