53. Hawk
After hours of debate, my big plan boiled down to just walking up and knocking on the door.
I had considered a few options, like showing up at her work, or waiting for her by her car, but all of those felt a bit creepy. And while showing up unannounced was also objectively still creepy, Charlie helpfully reminded me that at least this way, if she had some sort of freak out, she could have it in the privacy of her own home.
Standing on the sidewalk, staring up at the house, I felt myself smile at how it looked. It was a cute place; a simple rectangle with gray siding and a tidy little porch. It was what my mother would have called charming, and anxiety swirled in my gut again at the thought that my presence here could bring nothing but trouble.
Swallowing down my nerves, I ran my hands through my hair, feeling like I was about to explode. Anything could happen in the next five minutes. I could go up there and Wren could tell me to fuck off. She could slam the door in my face, call the cops. Hell, she could fuckin’ shoot me if she felt the urge.
As much as I felt a connection to her through her letters and my ever-increasing memories of the night we’d spent together, the truth was that, in reality, I didn’t know Wren at all.
And that scared the shit outta me.
Blowing out a breath, I dropped my hand to the bracelet, rubbing the beads one more time out of habit, before starting up the long, narrow sidewalk. My motorcycle boots were heavy on the wooden stairs as I climbed up to the door and raised my fist, knocking heavily before I could talk myself out of it.
While I waited, I glanced back over my shoulder, seeing that Charlie was right where I’d left him, leaning up against the side of the Escalade, dressed in his suit and looking intense. Ostensibly, he was there for my protection, but at the moment, it felt as though he was there to keep me from running away.
I was still considering if that was a viable option when I heard the deadbolt click over and the door open. Turning around, I came face to face with the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.
My daughter, Cooper.
She glanced at me, a bored look on her face as she held the door open with one hand, her phone with the other.
I couldn’t talk—I couldn’t even fucking breathe—as I looked at her, drinking her in from top to bottom.
She was tall; I didn’t know much about teenagers, but I figured she had to be one of the taller ones in her grade or whatever. Her hair was long and dark, an in-between color that favored me but was shot through with coppery highlights that spoke of her mother’s golden blonde. It hung straight and thick down her back, with no sign of the waves that I constantly fought to tame in my own hair. Her dark eyebrows were scrunched together, drawn low over her bright blue eyes. The eyes that I’d stared at in the photos I’d had of her.
The eyes that mirrored my own so closely, it was almost freaky.
Her alabaster skin was dotted with pale freckles that danced across her nose, and for a moment I was afraid I might just fucking cry.
I loved her. I loved her so goddamn much it hurt.
She stared at me, her eyes flaring wide for a moment before her features settled back into indifference.
“Can I help you?” she asked, sounding inconvenienced, and I almost laughed at the snark in her tone.
I paused, suddenly unable to remember how to speak, and simply just stared at the child I’d never met but somehow had already made room for in my heart.
I must have stared too long and too hard, because Cooper dropped one hand onto her hip and muttered, “Hello?”
“Uh, I’m looking for Wren.”
She snorted softly before turning to shout over her shoulder, and I almost reached for her, afraid that if she left, if she walked away now, I might never see her again. Like the entire experience had only been a figment of my imagination.
“Mom!” she called, her holler so abrupt I jolted, stuffing my panic back down and trying to stop my hands from shaking. “Door’s for you.” With that, Cooper gave me one last assessing look, then turned away, her gaze already on her phone as she disappeared down the hall. She’d left the door open, however, and after I’d lost sight of her, I took the opportunity to stare around the house.
Similar to the one we’d rented, it was well decorated, a mix of natural woods and dark colors showing across the open concept space, only instead of the stark black and white theme, Wren’s house was done in earth tones like clay and sage. From my spot by the door, I could see granite countertops and black appliances, and then past that, a wood-burning stove in the far corner. My mind conjured up scenes of Wren and Cooper cooking together, working side by side to make something delicious, then settling down with a cozy fire and a good movie.
The pain in my chest at the thought that I’d missed those moments was hot and sharp.
I couldn’t fuck this up; I needed to prove to Wren that I wasn’t here to cause her problems.
I just wanted to know them.
“Who is it, Coop?” came a voice from the other hallway, and then there she was, standing before me like a dream made flesh.
My Bird.
Fuck, she was beautiful. Her photos really didn’t do her justice; she was stunning. Somehow both ethereal and tangible at the same time, and as I looked at her, all the tension in my shoulders released, a thousand worries leaving me in an instant, because she was here.
And she was perfect.
“Hey, Bird,” I said, and her mouth dropped open in shock. She stared at me, blinking rapidly as she processed what she was seeing. Dressed down after what I imagined was a long day at work, she was wearing black leggings and a loose-fitting t-shirt with a V-neck in a rich navy color.
“Hawk,” she breathed, staring at me like she didn’t believe I was actually there, something I could totally relate to. “What are you doing here?”
“I just,” I started, confused by her question. “I thought it was time.”
“Time?” she repeated, her brows drawing low over her hazel eyes. “You thought it was time. Time to what, exactly?”
“Um,” I started, sensing I was entering dangerous waters. “Time to come see you. To see you both.”
Whipping her head to the side, Wren glanced down the hall where Cooper had disappeared before moving toward me and out onto the porch, shutting the door behind her.
“You don’t get to do this, Hawk,” she said, her tone low as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You can’t be here. Not now, after all this time.”
“Wren, you have to understand—”
“Oh, I have to understand, do I?” she snapped, the fire in her gaze practically burning me alive. “Let me tell you what you have to understand, Mr. Big Shot. You have to understand that you had your chance. Fifteen years ago, when I needed you, you shut me down. You made your choice then, and we’ve both had to live with the consequences.”
“What—” I started, meaning to ask her what she meant, but she spoke over me, her anger flaring higher.
“I can’t believe you have the audacity, after everything you’ve done, to actually show up here, at my home—at our home—as though there would be no repercussions.”
As though a thought had just occurred to her, Wren’s head snapped up, her gaze darting around the street, looking for something or someone. When she spied Charlie, she tilted her head to the side quizzically, but ultimately looked back to me, her eyes now full of fear.
“I don’t want any trouble, Hawk. I did what I was told. Followed the rules.” Stepping away from me, Wren opened her door, pausing to look back at me one last time. “You tell her I said I don’t want any trouble.”
And with that, she closed the door and disappeared back into the house, shutting me out entirely.