Broken Beautiful Hearts(33)

“That’s you,” Christian says, as if he’s telling me something I don’t know.

“Thanks for clearing up that mystery,” I tease.

“Your dad was real proud of you,” Hawk says. The Twins look away. Thinking about my dead parent probably reminds them of their mom. “He was as good as they come, even though I gave him a rough time when he started dating your mom.”

“Why were you so hard on him?” Mom has told me bits and pieces of the story, but I want to hear Hawk’s version.

“Your dad and I were in the same Recon unit in the Marine Corps, and he was a friend—those were two reasons right there. A man doesn’t want his little sister falling for a Devil Dog who gets dropped into dangerous situations for a living. I wanted her to settle down with someone who would come home every night. But I brought your dad with me for Thanksgiving, and they fell hard for each other.”

“Were you okay with that?” I asked.

Hawk laughed. “Hell no. I kicked your dad’s butt when we left. He probably let me because he knew he had it coming. But it didn’t stop him from calling and visiting your mom every chance he got. Then I had Sissy to deal with. After a while, I got used to it.”

“And you stayed friends?”

“Only because your dad was such a good guy. He had a lot of honor. He respected your mom, and me. The day he asked your mom to marry him, he asked me first to make sure I was okay with it. He said that if he had a sister like your mom, he wouldn’t have trusted a guy like him, either. Then he promised to take care of her.”

“Great story, Pop. Can we show Peyton her room now?” Christian asks.

“The boys decorated it,” Hawk says proudly.

“Thanks for telling me the story.”

Hawk nods. “If you ever have questions or you want to know what happened—”

“I don’t.” Stories about my parents are one thing, but I don’t want to hear the details about how my father died.

“Here it is,” Cam says, stepping aside so I can open the bedroom door.

Suddenly, I’m worried. Visions of pink ruffles and fairy-tale princesses fill my head. I’m not sure if I can sleep in a pink room. I open the door, prepared to see a bed covered in rainbows, or something equally childish.

Don’t be a brat.

When I see it, my first thought is that I must’ve walked into the wrong room. There isn’t a shred of pink or a stuffed animal anywhere. The white furniture is accented with a sky-blue comforter and a cloud-shaped rug with a cute Japanese cartoon-style face. Above the desk on a pinboard, colored pushpins hold a Black Water High School Warriors decal, a picture of the Twins with their faces squished against a window, and an old photo of Mom and me.

“So do you like it or what?” Cam asks.

The surprising thing is that I do like everything in here. It doesn’t resemble my room at home, but it has a cool vibe, unlike the princess nightmare I pictured.

“It’s really nice.” I take in the details. “You two picked out all this stuff?”

Christian rolls back on his heels and Cam studies the rug.

“Grace helped,” Cam says finally. “But we drove her to Walmart.”

“You don’t like it.” Christian sounds deflated.

“Actually, I do. A lot.” I spread out the stack of notebooks and binders on the desk, nothing too cute or flashy, just the basics. Grace even threw in a decent mix of magazines—entertainment, sports, fashion, and a copy of Southern Living.

Hopefully, it has an article that covers how to deal with Southern high school divas.

Hawk and my cousins stand near the door, waiting for the final verdict.

“It’s all great.” I look around one more time.

“Why don’t we let Peyton get some rest? She looks tired.” Hawk steers the Twins to the door.

“I am pretty wrecked.” I sit on the edge of the bed.

A muffled whimper and scratching sounds come from underneath it, and I fly off the mattress and stumble toward the dresser. “There’s something under there.”

What the hell is it? A huge rat? A raccoon?

Do they have wolverines in Tennessee?

“Relax.” Christian bends down and picks up one side of the bed. “It’s just Dutch. He gets stuck.”

Reddish-brown paws poke out from beneath the bed skirt, and a moment later, the bloodhound’s square head and floppy ears follow. Dutch crawls out on his belly. I’m not surprised he got stuck. The dog is a lot bigger than I remember.

I lean against the dresser and exhale. “I forgot about him.”

Dutch turns his head toward me like he’s moving in slow motion. The dog’s droopy eyes and long ears make him look like a canine version of Eeyore from Winnie-the-Pooh.

Cam scratches the bloodhound’s head as the dog lumbers into the hall. “You hurt his feelings.”

Hawk puts a hand on each boy’s shoulder and pushes them out of my room. “Let me know if you need anything.” He pulls the door closed behind him.

For the first time since I arrived in Black Water, I’m alone. As much as I hate answering questions about what happened to my knee, and walking around in a brace, when I’m alone, the bad memories have room to stretch out.

Losing Tess is what hurts the most.