Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“What about men?” I asked cautiously.
“Do you mean was I attracted to them?”
I nodded.
Hawke was thoughtful for a moment. “I suppose I noticed if a guy was good looking or not, but no, I wasn’t attracted to them.”
“Does it bother you?”
“What?”
“Being with me?” I asked quietly, dropping my eyes. “I mean, you’re not gay and it sounds like you aren’t even bi.”
I felt Hawke’s fingers leave my head and lift my chin so that I was once again looking at him. “I’m not big on labels,” he said. “People have been labeling me my whole life and it didn’t mean shit.” Hawke’s finger traced over my lower lip. “You’re beautiful, Tate…but that isn’t what has me wanting more of you.”
I felt my stomach drop out at Hawke’s words.
“You’re kind, even though all you’ve known is cruelty. You’re strong despite all the times people have tried to break you. You gave up everything for that little boy from the second you saved him and you’ve been the father he needs and deserves despite not having had that yourself. I’m in awe of you, Tate Travers.”
I swallowed hard around the knot of emotion in my throat and shook my head because I couldn’t come up with even one single thing to say to that. I’d thought it had only been about physical attraction for Hawke, but to know he saw more than that…
Hawke’s hand returned to my hair and we both fell silent for a while. But I couldn’t miss out on the opportunity to know more about him so I said, “You said the house behind yours was your uncle’s.”
Hawke nodded. “It was mine too growing up.”
“You lived with him?”
“Yeah, my mom and I moved in with him when I was eight. She died a few months later.”
“What happened to her?”
“She had a brain tumor…inoperable.”
I shook my head. “Hawke…”
“It’s okay,” Hawke murmured. “It was a long time ago.”
“What about your father?”
“Never knew him. He worked on oil rigs and was killed in an explosion shortly after I was born. My mom and I moved from Louisiana to Wyoming when she found out she was sick.”
I remembered Hawke’s story about his first day of school. “It was bad, wasn’t it?” I whispered. “Living with your uncle.”
Hawke’s fingers stilled in my hair. He finally nodded.
“Will you tell me?” I asked.
His eyes held mine for a moment and then shifted away. I could see the pain in them so I quickly said, “You don’t-” but Hawke cut me off by placing a finger over my lips.
“After my mom died, he made sure to remind me on a daily basis that he didn’t want me.”
“He hurt you,” I whispered.
Hawke nodded. “He drank a lot so after he smacked me around, I’d wait till he passed out and then I would crawl out of my window and walk through the woods to Revay’s house. She always left her window unlocked and I’d get into bed with her…we were still kids back then so it wasn’t more than her comforting me while I cried. After a while, I started going to her house every night. On the days where my uncle beat me so bad I could barely walk, she’d come to me.” Hawke let out a pain filled laugh. “It was years before her parents found out. They were pissed and tried all sorts of things to stop her from sneaking out. But like I said, she was stubborn.”
Hawke’s next laugh was lighter and a small smile drifted across his mouth. “They finally gave up and set up a room for me and stuck a ladder outside the window so I wouldn’t have to climb the big oak tree outside Revay’s window. By the time I was fourteen, I was practically living with them full time.”
“What happened to your uncle?”
“He got drunk one night and wrapped his car around a tree. I’d just turned eighteen so I didn’t have to go into foster care or anything. Revay and I graduated a few weeks later and got married. We moved to Fort Benning in Georgia and she went to college to get a degree in music while I was going through basic training.”
“What happened after you lost her?” I asked. “You’d left the army, right?”
“I re-enlisted about a year later. I…I couldn’t sit around knowing the men who’d done that to her were walking around free. I left the army again about six years ago.”
I nodded in understanding. I was about to ask another question when my phone rang. I sat up, but Hawke beat me to it and climbed out of bed. “I got it,” he said and he grabbed my phone from my pants which were still laying in a discarded heap on the floor next to my torn shirt. I smiled at the memory and when Hawke came over to the bed to hand me the phone, there was a little smirk on his face that told me he was remembering the exact same thing as me. He leaned down to kiss me before handing me the phone.