by Rose Wulf
They didn’t speak as they jogged to their vehicles.
He didn’t stop moving until he reached his parents’ living room a few minutes later.
His mother was bent over Arianna’s body, healing her. Brooke, Madison, Nate, and Christopher were gathered around. In some cases literally on the edge of their seats.
Nate met his brother’s gaze with a reassuring smile. “Mom said she’ll be fine.”
“And how’re you?” Christopher asked, turning his attention to Dean.
Logan stepped up beside Dean, settled a hand on his shoulder, and offered, “We’re fine. Although I’m not sure he’s breathing yet.”
The jibe finally jarred a reaction out of him and Dean rolled his eyes halfheartedly, grunting, “Hilarious.” As Logan moved past him, headed for what was usually their mother’s chair, Dean finally registered the absence he hadn’t been expecting to find. “Where’s Ange?”
Christopher pointed up and replied, “Her room. Hilary’s resting upstairs.” He paused for only a second before adding, “I think she’d like to see you, though.”
Dean cast another glance to Arianna, but he knew it would be a while before she woke up. Getting out of the room and away from the sight of her still in need of healing was probably a good idea, so he nodded and turned toward the staircase. His mother’s healing wasn’t quite as strong as Angela’s, which meant it would take a little longer. He might as well go check on his sister.
He climbed the stairs in something of a daze, each step drilling home exactly how crazy everything had gotten in the last couple of days. Or weeks, maybe. Things had been chaotic for his family as a whole for several months, but it had definitely gotten more intense—for him at least—since the Firehouse Breakfast. Except he knew damned well the intensity of their war with the Matthews family was only half of it. The other half was all Arianna. She’d fallen into his life and he hadn’t even tried to let go of her. It wasn’t like him, and he’d been doing everything he could to not examine that for a long time now.
Now, though, the truth would be impossible to miss no matter how hard he tried.
Angela’s partially open door loomed in front of him and he paused, registering the sound of poorly-muffled sobbing on the other side. Guilt clenched and twisted in his stomach. Maybe he hadn’t been properly listening to her the last couple of months. Maybe she wasn’t the only reason they’d been arguing. It could just as easily have been her stuck in that fire, and if that situation had turned any more south it would have been far too easy to lose her. Just like it would have been far too easy to lose Arianna. But that was a thought he needed to save for later.
Gently dropping his knuckles to the doorframe, Dean called, “Angie?” as he pushed the door open a little wider. As he’d expected, Hilary was resting on the bed peacefully. And Angela was slumped over her computer desk, arms crossed on top of the wood, shoulders shaking. He frowned and projected his voice just a little more. “Angie.”
Angela lifted her head and turned to face him, sniffling audibly. Tear stains marred her cheeks and her eyes were red—from the tears as much as exhaustion, he was sure. “Dean,” she whispered. Then she launched herself from the chair, somehow magically jumping over the distance between them in order to latch her arms around his torso tightly. “I’m sorry,” she said again, her voice muffled by his shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry!”
Dean sighed and wrapped his arms around her, hoping to soothe her at least a little. “I’m sorry, too, Angie,” he said honestly. He squeezed her tighter and asked, “Did you get hurt?”
“No,” she choked with an awkward partial shake of her head. “They … they wanted to use me, so they weren’t … directly threatening me.” She pulled in a breath and eased back, reaching up to wipe self-consciously at her cheeks. “They were holding Hilary as blackmail, but Arianna was with me when they called, so she insisted on coming, and when we got there she talked them into using her as the blackmail instead. So Eric put Hilary in the car. And … and then, Ari … it was my fault, Dean. I should never have cooperated and it was stupid and—!”
“Hey,” Dean interrupted, latching his hands onto her shoulders and holding her gaze. “It was not your fault. You did the best you could to save everyone. That’s nothing to feel bad about. They’re manipulative monsters, remember?”
She nodded slowly, sniffling again, and finally looked away. “You were right, anyway,” she offered quietly. “I’m no good … in a fight.”
Scowl deepening, Dean said, “That isn’t ever what I meant.” He waited until Angela was looking at him again before he added, “It’s just that you’re my baby sister, and legacy or no legacy, I can’t stomach the idea of you getting hurt. It’s that simple, I promise.”
A strangled, awkward laugh bubbled up past her lips and Angela wrapped him in another hug. “I’m still sorry. I said a lot of mean things and I don’t have a good excuse for it.”
“Sure you do,” Dean assured her gently. “You were scared. We all are, Angie, it’s okay.”
“I’m glad you’re all right,” Angela declared.
Dropping his chin to her head, Dean mumbled, “Me, too.”
Chapter Twenty
Eric was tense, fists clenched so tightly his blunt nails dug half-moons into his palms, as he stared at the floor beneath his feet. The room around him was flooded with fluorescent light because the sun had long since gone down, though it had still been lowering from the sky when he’d collapsed into his seat. He had no idea how late it had gotten. There wasn’t much he was sure about in that moment.
“He’s still sleeping,” Sarah declared, her own voice exhausted from emotional overload, as she came back into the living room and slumped onto the couch. “We’re going to have to take him to the hospital, though.”
“And tell them what?” Eric asked dejectedly. He wasn’t surprised by her declaration, and whether he liked it or not, he knew she was right. Not to mention she didn’t exactly need his permission.
“I don’t know,” Sarah began on a sigh, “I might have had a little more time to think up a backup plan if one of you had thought to tell me that my husband was horribly burned.”
“We had a plan,” Eric defended without lifting his gaze from the floor. “It should have worked.”
“You should—,” she cut herself off, drew a shaky breath, and finally said, “It doesn’t matter now, anyway. We’ll just … have to tell them he somehow caught himself on fire or something. It’s the only thing that wouldn’t necessarily result in noticeable property damage.”
Eric sighed heavily and adjusted, sinking back into the chair and shifting his uncaring stare up to the ceiling. “And then what?”
“Then we help him get better,” Sarah said plainly.
“What if he doesn’t?”
“He will.” There was confidence in her voice. She still somehow had faith that something good would come out of this nightmare of a situation.
He wasn’t sure if he was impressed, jealous, or bitter about it.
Silence stretched between them for several seconds, or minutes, before he finally mumbled, “And what do we do in the meantime? Do we just let them get away with this?”
Even without watching her, Eric could feel the frustration wafting off his sister-in-law. It was a familiar feeling. They hadn’t exactly been the closest of family members. Ever. And that familiarity almost made him feel a little better. Before he could decide whether or not to embrace that feeling she said, “Yes. For now.”
Eric blinked and dropped his gaze from the ceiling until he was staring, uncomprehendingly, into her eyes. Slowly, he asked, “What?” Surely she wasn’t saying to let the Hawkes get away with everything they’d done to his family in the last couple of days? Did she not have a soul?
Sarah held his gaze calmly and replied, “We’re wounded, Eric. And I know that makes you angry. I’m sure, when the shock wears off, you’ll want to tear them to pieces. But the more you react, the more defensive you become, the
harder it will be to walk away the winner.” She took a deep breath, eyes flicking past him now, and added, “Jacob won’t be properly back on his feet for … a while, if we’re lucky. So right now it’s really just you. If it’s going to be you, you need to have a very solid plan.”
Eric flinched and looked away as he fought a short round of burning behind his eyes. He swallowed the unwanted lump in his throat and nodded. “Yeah,” he finally said, “I guess … you’re right. That’s what Jacob would be saying, I’m sure.”
“Think about it,” Sarah offered in a strangely soothing tone, “that’s what your father did, too. A long time ago.”
Father…. His father hadn’t survived the fire. By the time Eric had been able to swing back around to pick his father up, the fire had erupted and engulfed nearly the entire house. The heat alone was outrageous, even from several yards back.
He yanked himself out of that raw memory before it overwhelmed him and forced himself to consider Sarah’s words. She was right. When his father’s brother, a man Eric had never known, had died unexpectedly and left Victor alone in the battle, he’d pulled back. He’d pulled back and focused on building his family—his army—in order to eventually rejoin the battle. Eric didn’t want to wait that long, but he still saw the logic of Sarah’s argument. “All right,” he said aloud, lifting his gaze back to hers again. “Then we wait. At least until Jacob’s back on his feet, and definitely until we have a plan.”
****
Angela startled as the phone rang just two days later. She stared at the offending device, attached to the living room wall half a room away, for several seconds as she tried to calm her heart. But it was the house phone, not her cell. I’m not afraid of a phone. And since it was still ringing, she unfolded from the sofa and crossed to the cordless device. “Hawke residence,” she said, almost warily, as she put it to her ear.
A stretch of silence greeted her before an unfamiliar male voice asked, “Is this … Angela?”
She swallowed, the uncertainty lingering, and shifted her weight. Of course her parents were busy, too. Though her mom was somewhere in the house, at least, but not close enough. “Who is this?”
The man cleared his throat, almost as if he as uncomfortable as she was. “It’s, uh, Daniel. Uncle Daniel. I don’t know if you remember me or not.”
Her eyebrows rose to the top of her forehead as old, detached memories popped into her mind. Uncle … Daniel? She knew who the man was, of course, but actually hearing from him was another matter. Was it really him? He’d all but abandoned their entire family long ago. “I do,” she said slowly. Though she felt like adding “sort of” just to make a point. Why on earth was he calling? Did something happen? Were the Matthews that wide-spread?
“Oh, good,” he said, awkwardly. “Listen, is … Lillian available?”
Angela narrowed her eyes now, even though he couldn’t see her glare. “She’s around. But she’s busy taking care of people who deserve her time. Why shouldn’t I hang up?”
Another silence settled and seconds passed. But the line was too quiet for her to worry he’d hung up.
Finally, Daniel said, “I understand your anger. And I’m sorry, I am.” He cleared his throat again. “I just wanted to talk to Lillian. Maybe … clear some things up.”
Clear things up? Angela frowned. “You mean like you disappearing to the other side of the world? Or like you accusing us of lying about,” she shook her head, “everything?” She was angry now and her hand clenched around the phone. “Is that what you want to clear up? Because if ‘clear up’ doesn’t mean ‘apologize,’ I’m hanging up.”
“Yes, I—” Daniel cut himself off and drew a breath. “That’s what I want to talk about. I want to try and understand. Please, Angela, let me talk to my sister.”
If he’d phrased it differently, she would certainly have told him to take a hike. But he just had to use the brother angle. After what had happened a couple of days earlier, Angela didn’t have it in her to outright deny a brother reaching out to his sister. He better not make me regret this. Aloud, she said, “Fine. Hold on.” She pressed Hold before he could respond, set the phone on the counter, and went in search of her mother.
****
“I’m so glad this place was able to open before I left town,” Angela declared with a wide smile as a bacon cheeseburger and a heaping pile of golden fries was set in front of her.
Beside her, Blake chuckled and said, “We all are,” as his gaze slid up to their laughing waitress. “Some of us,” he continued, “perhaps more than others.”
“Oh,” Brooke replied, “you got that right. I need a break from the insanity of wedding planning.”
Laughter went around the table as Brooke proceeded to hand out the rest of their orders. Dean watched as she snagged a fry from her fiancé’s plate and he looked over in time to see Clare whispering something in Logan’s ear that made Logan’s lips curve in a laughing smile. For a second he felt a flicker of the feeling he’d first registered when he’d watched Logan propose on the beach. Like he was the odd man out in his own family. Missing some secret no one could share with him. Then he looked to his left and that feeling melted away.
Arianna sat just far enough away to give them both enough room to comfortably eat their meal, and she was eyeing her first-ever Earl’s Diner burger eagerly. “This looks absolutely amazing,” she declared.
“That’s because it is,” Nate volunteered with a laugh from across the table.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Brooke joked as she stepped back from the table, finally done delivering their meals. “I’ll be sure to tell Madison your initial opinion.”
“Please do,” Arianna said with a laughing smile.
The sound of her soft, joking laughter warmed Dean in a way he’d never known before. It still felt like only yesterday when he’d found her, electrocuted half to death, in Emma’s old house. He remembered that level of panic. Remembered not being able to think coherently until sometime after he’d been sure she’d be all right. That had been four days ago. Dean and his brothers were obligated to spend the next two days helping their sister and her best friend haul their furniture to the next town over. He hadn’t yet processed that his baby sister would be starting college on Monday.
But there was something he’d finally processed, sometime during the course of the week. Something he wasn’t willing to leave unsaid for much longer.
Lunch, though, was not the place to have that conversation. And Dean didn’t have a problem with that. They were keeping good company and he was in a genuinely good mood. For the first time since Arianna’s recovery they actually both had the day off and he intended to make good use of that time. As soon as they were done enjoying her first trip to his family’s favorite diner.
“Okay,” Arianna began as Dean pulled into traffic after lunch, “so what’re these plans we have?” He’d made a point of requesting she leave her afternoon open, saying he had something in mind for them, but he hadn’t given her any hints as to what. He had to assume, since she was asking, she hadn’t reached any conclusions on her own.
Not that that was surprising, since it was a crazy idea. More like a series of crazy ideas. But he wasn’t ready to give her the answers just yet, so he teased, “You’ll see soon enough.”
Arianna sighed dramatically. “You can try this ‘man of mystery’ thing, Dean, but you know perfectly well I’ll weasel it out of you.”
“You’re welcome to try,” he assured her with a grin as he eased into the lane he needed.
“Well, I can guess one thing,” she declared. “We’re clearly not going home.”
Dean’s grin broadened at her choice of words. It was true that she was still staying with him, but they hadn’t talked about it much at all. She’d just stopped referring to it as his apartment and started saying simple things like “home.” It was probably stupid how much he liked the sound of that. “You’re right,” he agreed. “I want your opinion on a couple thing
s.”
“My opinion?” she repeated, clearly intrigued. “Okay,” she said with a small nod, “I can probably help you with that. You want to tell me what those things are?”
“Not quite yet,” Dean replied. He shifted lanes, caught the entrance to the interstate, and added, “We’re going somewhere familiar first. Then we’ll get to the opinions.”
“I’ll give you some credit,” Arianna began as she watched the scenery pass by the window, “you are definitely making it hard to figure this out.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He knew she would figure out their initial destination soon enough. They’d been there before, after all. But she seemed content to wait and ponder silently as he took the turnoff he was looking for. She didn’t even say anything when he turned onto the necessary dirt road a minute later, and soon enough he had slipped the car into park.
“You know,” Arianna began as they climbed out of the car, “I would have expected you to bring me out here again for a sunset, not in the middle of the afternoon.”
“I’m just full of surprises,” Dean teased as he led the way to the small cliff-side clearing. He came to a stop when he was standing in his usual spot and pulled her close, brushing a kiss over her lips.
She was grinning by the time they pulled apart and tapped her fingers against his back, her arms around his torso, as she said, “There’s no way you brought me all the way out here just to steal a few kisses.”
He chuckled and said, “You’d be right about that.” He loosened his hold a little and added, “I got to thinking. I feel like you’ve aired more of your dirty laundry than I have.”
One dark brow arching high on her forehead, Arianna replied, “I’m not sure I agree, but even so, what would be the big deal?”
Dean shook his head briefly. “No big deal,” he assured her. “It’s just that I thought I’d open the door for the conversation.”