Chapter 4
Chapter Four
TAI
I’m half-asleep when my phone goes off, and I’m in that groggy haze of sleep and wake where I’m not sure if it’s actually ringing or if I’m dreaming it.
I fumble for my nightstand, blinking the screen into view, and it takes way too long to register the words that are glowing there.
Derry’s bar.
The fuck?
I have to be dreaming. What the hell would Derry be doing calling me at eleven at night? I trained his kid for a couple of years, and before that, I was a regular asshole at the bar when I was first legal to drink, but outside of that, we’re not friends.
“Hello?” I croak, assuming it’s the wrong number.
“That you, Tai?”
Okay, not the wrong number. “Yeah, what’s wrong?”
“I have your friend here. You better come pick him up.”
“My friend?” I’m trying to work my sleepy brain. “Who?”
“Jensen Hawke.”
That’s the last name I’m expecting. Sure, we went out together there a few times when we were twenty-one, but it wasn’t long after that Hawke left. How the hell does Derry even remember that? “He’s not my friend.”
“Well, he’s here, drunk off his face and causing issues, so if you don’t come and get him, I’ll be forced to call the police.”
Motherfucker. “Aren’t you supposed to make sure you don’t overserve people?” Apparently, I’m irritable when I’m tired and being dragged out of bed.
I am getting out of bed though. One foot in front of the other while my body tries to tug me back down onto the mattress.
“Police it is,” he says.
“Stop,” I groan before he can hang up. “I’m on my way. Just give me a second to get changed, and I’ll be there.”
“Appreciate it. See you soon.”
I pull a face at my phone when I hang up, then hurry to tug on some shorts and a T-shirt. Sleeping only in my briefs makes that easier, I guess.
Hawke is going to owe me for this. I have private coaching classes from six tomorrow, and I’m already going to be wrecked from a day of working outside.
I’m halfway to the bar when it occurs to me that I should have left Derry to call the cops. What the hell do I care? Hawke’s and my friendship ended ten years ago by my choice.
And here I am, running to his aid.
Okay, it’s possible that the fresh memory of him is dredging up things I’d always kept buried. No matter how many friends I make as an adult, there’s a disconnect between what I have with them and the kind of ride-or-die friendship I had with Hawke.
Maybe friendships born out of stupidity, competition, and the shared trauma of high school aren’t something that you can replicate as an adult. It’s one of those priceless things you either have forever or for the time you need to grow into yourself.
Hawke and I were that second option, but damn if I don’t wish it were the first.
I get to Derry’s too fast for my thoughts and walk into the usual Saturday night thrum. The music is loud, the laughter is louder, and as I weave my way through people, I spot the one black cloud at the bar.
He’s hunched over, gripping his empty glass like it’s the only thing keeping him on his stool, and there’s a ring of empty space between him and the rest of the room that nobody wants to cross.
And I’m the lucky guy who gets to do it.
With a deep breath that does nothing for my courage, I pull out the stool beside him and sink down onto it.
“Should we try this again?” I ask.
All I get is a glower in return.
“Since your memory is so terrible, I’m Tai Barrett. The guy you were best friends with between the ages of … I dunno … thirteen and twenty-one.”
“Fuck off.”
My lips twitch. “Ah, so you do remember me?”
“I said fuck off.” He’s slurring, which means he’s drunk way too much to still be upright.
“I could, but Derry called me and basically said that you leave with me, or you leave with the police. Your call.”
“The police.”
I almost laugh at that. Hawke has always been a bit of a stubborn ass, but it was never in an aggressive or bitter way. More that he’d bet until he was blue in the face—or Google proved him wrong—that he was right about something and was always ready for any competition to prove that he’s the best.
Hawke’s a winner. It’s always been in his nature.
So this loser sitting drunk at the bar does not match up with my memory of him.
“I don’t think you mean that.”
His laugh holds no amusement. “You know shit about me. Go away.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why?”
“Because who else will pull out their phone and record the great Jensen Hawke being arrested and post it for all the world to see?” His glare bores into me even as I tap my chin like I’m thinking.
“Oh, that’s right. The whole bar. Especially those guys over there who have worked out exactly who you are. ”
Hawke grunts, goes to take another sip from his glass, and then snarls when he remembers it’s empty. “Like it could make the day any worse.”
“Well, it’s definitely not making a bad day better.”
“Neither is talking to you.”
Considering I wasn’t even sure I wanted to haul my ass out of bed for this guy, he should be annoying me more than he is. But even with him being an asshole, there’s something about his presence that’s reeling me in, the same way it always did when we were younger.
“Easy way to fix both those problems is to get in my car and let me drive you home.”
He mutters something I miss under his breath, but I’m not about to let that stop me. With hopes and courage as my only backup, I stand and loop my arm under his, the same way we’ve done for each other so many times before.
It’s a relief when he doesn’t fight me on it.
Derry sends me a tense nod as we stagger across the room, most of Hawke’s weight landing on me. He’s definitely bigger than I remember—either that or I’ve gotten weaker.
“Should have let me drown in beer,” he grumbles.
Not looking at him and only hearing his voice throws me back ten years, and I hate the regret that grips me.
I was so sure I was over it and comfortable with my choices, but the way he’s made me question it multiple times in the one day is also making me regret driving out to pick him up. “I’ll remind myself of that next time.”
The heat from inside disappears as we step outside, and I do my best to get him across the parking lot. We reach my car, and I hit the unlock button on my fob as I struggle to open the passenger door with Hawke sagging against me.
“Get in.”
“Just dump me on the side of the road.”
“I’m not going to do that.”
“Why? You’ve never had a problem dumping me before.”
I have to physically bite my tongue to stop from telling him the entire reason.
One, because the whole thing happened so long ago that there’s no point now, and two, because he’s drunk as fuck.
And maybe the drunk thing is exactly why I shouldn’t ask my next question, but it comes out before I can stop it.
“Since when are you this lost and depressed? Does it have something to do with Kasen?”
Like an electrical current has blasted through Hawke, he grabs the front of my shirt, turns us, and shoves me up against my car. “You knew?”
The twisted anger on his face makes me think he actually might hit me. “Of course I fucking didn’t.”
He doesn’t back down.
“But I had my suspicions. Last year. When he joined my team.”
Hawke is breathing heavily through his teeth, but his hazel eyes meet mine for the first time. His gaze is unfocused, but a long moment stretches between us.
“He looks just like you,” I push.
Hawke shoves back from me and tries to stagger away, but I grab him before he can.
“Just get in the fucking car.”
“What’s the point?” he moans, but he doesn’t fight me as I steer him closer.
He all but falls into the seat, and I nudge his legs inside the car with my foot before I can close the door behind him.
I don’t even know if he’s still conscious, but I take a minute to breathe in the smell of trees—and catch a hint of the dumpster sitting beside the bar—and then round my car to climb in too.
His cologne, woodsy and sharp, is already filling the space, and when I glance over at him, he’s staring blankly out the front windshield.
“You still alive?” I ask.
“Do you care?”
Oh, good, he’s still being snarky. I coax my engine to life and give it a second before I pull out again. “All these years, I’ve wondered what you thought of me, so it’s great to have confirmation.”
“Of what?”
“That you hate me.”
“Can you blame me?” His slurring is getting thicker.
“No, not at all.” I have to chew my tongue again, and I curse that thing for wanting to betray me. “Just good to have the answer.”
“At least one of us does.”
If Hawke asks me outright, I don’t know that I can keep it to myself, so the best thing I can do is steer the conversation away. To somewhere I know will piss him off.
“So you have a son.”
He immediately scowls, and I actually feel a bit bad. “Barely.”
“Didn’t realize that was something that had a gray area.”
“It does when the kid is old enough to want nothing to do with you.”
And now I feel a lot bad. “Kasen said that?”
“Yep.”
Thinking of Kasen, that doesn’t match up. He’s a hard worker, always ready for feedback, and while he’s snarky, like Hawke, he’s not afraid to talk to me if he’s having issues in class or struggling with something at home. “He did just lose his mom.”
Hawke grunts.
“All I’m saying is that he might need time.”
“He doesn’t want time. He wants me to fuck off.”
That really doesn’t sound like Kasen. “What exactly did he say?”
“That all he wants from me is new hockey gear and a car.”
“A … car?”
Hawke curls forward, and at first, I think he’s going to throw up, but he only scrubs his hands down his face.
“He doesn’t believe I didn’t know about him.
Apparently, he sent me a message years ago that I didn’t see, and he doesn’t believe that I didn’t see it, and now he wants me to fuck off.
There’s not a lot I can misinterpret there. ”
“So … you really didn’t know about him?”
“You think I would have left if I did?”
Honestly … no. And there’s so much relief in knowing that the Hawke I was friends with is still under there. My grip on the steering wheel loosens as some of the tension I was holding for him seeps out of me.
I think I know what the problem is. “Kasen’s challenging you.”
“What?”
We’re almost back to Watesburg, and just like on the way to the bar, the drive is going way too quickly. “He’s already lost one parent. He’s worried that he’ll get attached to you and that you’ll leave too.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Well, what did you say to him? Did you tell him that you’d stay? Can you stay?” I glance over as Hawke opens his mouth, then slams it closed again. “Tell me that you said something.”
“I was confused.”
“You said you were confused?”
“I said … I don’t remember.” He groans and rubs his forehead.
I get where he’s coming from. I don’t even know where I’d start if I had a kid sprung on me, especially one Kasen’s age. But also knowing Kasen, and thinking of where he’s coming from, Hawke can’t expect him to automatically be thrilled to have a replacement parent.
“I hate to say this,” I start, choosing my words carefully, “but you need to decide what you want. Kasen’s a really good kid, but if you want to know him … it’s going to be on you.”
“He doesn’t want that.”
“Of course he does. But think about it. He’s convinced himself that you knew about him and have ignored him all his life. It’s easier to hold on to that bitterness than to let you in and be disappointed.”
Hawke doesn’t answer, and we get closer to the neighborhood his parents moved to. I don’t know where they live, but it’s hard not to keep tabs on everyone in a town this small.
“You need to give me directions.”
“Left,” he grunts.
I follow all the way until we arrive at the first cute house in a line of identical ones.
The second I pull up, Hawke immediately grips the door handle and throws it open.
“Hey.” I grab his arm before he can leave, but he doesn’t look at me. “For what it’s worth, Kasen needs you. And you guys would get along really well.”
“Not if he hates me.”
“It’s your job not to give him a reason to.”
I’m expecting him to storm away, but he hesitates.
“He won’t come around easily,” I say. “But it will be worth it. You just have to figure out if that’s what you want.”
And I’ve pushed too hard because that’s the point he storms away.
I watch him until he gets inside the house, and then I sit there, staring at the sky, wondering what the fuck today even was.