62. Wren
“Shit!” I hissed, dropping the hot pan on to the stovetop before yanking off the oven mitts and inspecting the burn closer.
“You alright?” Hawk asked, coming around the island and taking my hand in his gentle grip, his calloused fingertips rubbing against the delicate skin of my inner wrist, sending a shiver along my spine.
“Yeah,” I sighed, pressing my free hand to my forehead as I blew out a breath and tried to focus. “I just wasn’t paying attention.” I nodded my chin to the offending oven mitt, the hole in one thumb clearly visible where it was laying on the kitchen floor. “Have to remember to put them on the right hands, so the hole is on the outside, not the inside.”
Hawk frowned, but said nothing about my shitty oven mitts, instead guiding me to the sink and holding my injured thumb under the cold water. I sighed in relief, feeling the tension of the day roll through me.
After the disastrous conversation in the living room, I’d given Cooper her space, sitting with Hawk and fretting over how every word that had come out of my mouth had been wrong. When it was time to start dinner, I’d put together a quick casserole, something I knew Cooper loved that we’d discovered on TikTok last summer.
It was a clear attempt at bribery, and I wasn’t even ashamed.
I’d fucked everything up, and now my daughter was paying the price.
“That feel better?” Hawk asked quietly, snapping me out of my pity party.
“Yes. Thank you.”
“How can I help?” he pressed, handing me a tea towel to dry my hand. We’d already established that he couldn’t cook, so while I’d puttered around the kitchen assembling the ingredients for dinner, Hawk had hovered close by, watching me like, well...like a hawk.
It was like he didn’t want to let me out of his sight.
I hated to admit how much I liked it.
“Would you mind setting the table?” I asked, and he immediately nodded. “Just poke around until you find the dishes you need.” There were only so many cupboards, so it wasn’t like it would be a long hunt. “I’m going to get the first-aid kit. See if we have any ointment.”
I left him in my kitchen, a rock star who was currently pulling paper towels off the roll and folding them neatly so they’d serve as napkins for our meager feast and I headed down to the en suite bathroom in my bedroom. I kept a small first aid kit under the counter, mostly stocked with princess band-aids and tweezers for removing splinters, but I managed to find a nearly empty tube of antiseptic ointment, which I was eternally grateful for.
Once I’d seen to my burn, I headed to Cooper’s room, knocking just loudly enough to be heard over the music she had playing.
“Coop?” I asked hesitantly. “Can I come in?”
Nothing. I waited, giving her time to pout a bit more before I knocked again.
“Cooper? Dinner’s ready. I made that TikTok pasta you like.” Still nothing. I sighed, leaning my head against the wooden door and closed my eyes. “Cooper, I’d really like to talk to you tonight. I know this thing with your—your dad”—holy shit, that felt weird coming out of my mouth—“is strange and maybe a bit overwhelming. But if we could talk about it, I’ll answer any questions you have. I promise.”
Still nothing. She must have been really pissed.
“Cooper?” I said, turning the handle and letting myself in to her room. “I really think we should—” I froze, staring around the empty room as my heart climbed into my throat. “Cooper?”
Where the hell was she? Stepping back into the hall, I looked behind me at the bathroom, but the door was open, and the lights were off, so it was clear she wasn’t there.
“Cooper, this isn’t funny,” I called, louder, going over to the speaker on the dresser and clicking it off, the sudden silence in the room feeling oppressive. I darted my gaze from one corner of the room to the other as the black lace curtains danced in the summer breeze that blew through the open window. “Come out right now!”
“Bird?” Hawk’s voice startled me, so unused to having someone in the house besides me and Coop. I turned to see him standing in the doorway, a look of concern on his face. “What’s goin’ on?”
“She’s gone!” I said, panic rising in my voice.
“Gone?”
“Yes, Hawk, that’s what I said!” I snapped, and his eyebrows rose. “My teen daughter is so mad at me right now that she apparently climbed out of her open window and fled into the night!”
I was being dramatic, because it was early summer and the sun was clearly still up, but Hawk was smart enough to not correct me.
“Alright,” he said decisively, entering the room and looking around. I tried to see it from his perspective, the band posters on the wall—none of them his—and the other random bits of decor that made up Cooper’s personality: magazine cutouts, photos she had taken when she was out with Sabrina, and a handful of memes about Wednesday Addams, all taped up on the mirror.
On their own, they were just tiny things, but seen as a collective, they were all pieces of Cooper, things that had meant something to her or made her laugh, each one a small part of a whole and something she cared enough to keep.
And Hawk understood none of them.
“Has she done this before?”
“No!” I cried, throwing my hands in the air. “She’s never run away from home before.”
Was that when she had done? Or was I blowing the whole situation out of proportion due to my own emotions.
Christ, I needed a therapist.
Or a drink.
“Do you have any idea where she could have gone? To a friend’s house or something?”
“Cooper doesn’t really have many friends,” I admitted, embarrassed. Unfortunately, Cooper suffered from an incurable infliction: being Wren Blackburn’s daughter. She was as much of an outcast in Grand Rapids as I had ever been, except she handled the situation way better than I had. “There’s really only Jillian.”
Jillian Groves, Cooper’s best friend since kindergarten. She was a sweet girl, a bit bookish, but kind. She and Cooper were total opposites in almost every way, but that never mattered to either of them.
“So call Jillian and see if Cooper is there,” Hawk suggested rationally, and I had to admit, I appreciated his calm head. I was certainly not in the right space for logical thinking.
“Right,” I said, marching down to the kitchen and retrieving my phone. Pulling up Jillian’s number, I listened to it ring and ring, cursing when it went to voice mail. Hanging up, I tried again, this time, leaving a voice mail asking Jillian to call me as soon as she got the message.
“No luck?” Hawk asked as he joined me in the kitchen.
“Jillian’s probably at church,” I admitted, glancing at the clock.
“At dinnertime on a weekday?”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “Jillian’s father is a pastor down at one of the local churches. The girl practically lives at church.” She was also one of the most stifled, emotionally stunted people I had ever met; living under the thumb of a man like Martin Groves would do that to a girl. “I’ll drive over to the church and see if she went there.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No!” I froze, surprising even myself with the force of the word. “It just...might be better if I go alone,” I finished lamely, watching as his face fell.
But like any practiced performer, Hawk recovered quickly, throwing up the smile I’d seen in too many magazines and interviews.
“Sure thing, Bird. I’ll call Charlie, have him come get me.” He crossed his arms, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, but the tension in his shoulders was unmistakable.
I’d hurt him, but I didn’t have time to worry about that. Snagging my keys, I tucked the entire interaction away for later. Once Cooper was home and we’d had a long talk, then I could unpack what had become one of the most bizarre days I’d ever experienced.
Because there was no way that one sharp word from me was enough to wound Hawk Jameson. The mere concept was laughable.
But there he was, leaning against my kitchen counter, my reactionary words having cut him deep.
“I’ll, uh, see you later?” I asked hesitantly, this fragile thing between us far too delicate for the strain we were putting on it.
He stared at me, his gaze searing me with its intensity, and I swallowed, finding myself holding my breath while I waited for him to answer.
“Yeah,” he finally ground out, that smile back in place, but not quite reaching his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, Bird.”