Craving Hawk

by Nicole Jacquelyn

  “Michael was two hundred pounds of muscle,” Grease said in a ragged voice.

  I finally turned to look at him, and the devastation on his face nearly killed me.

  This was why Tommy hadn’t wanted them to know. Why he’d gone to such lengths to keep them in the dark. Why he’d been willing to go down for murder without saying a word.

  “Micky was gay,” I said quietly, dropping awkwardly to my ass in the middle of the floor. “He wasn’t ready to say anything, but…”

  “But he told you,” Callie said softly, tears running down her face.

  “He told me everything,” I replied, nodding. “But I didn’t know about Mr. Phillips.”

  “When did you know?” Grease asked, pulling Callie closer to his side.

  “I found out at the end of the school year,” I told him, staring at the floor beyond my crossed legs. “I caught them.” I shook my head. “They weren’t doing anything. Not really. But I knew just from the way they were standing that something wasn’t right.”

  “That motherfucker,” Grease said so quietly I almost didn’t hear him.

  “I made Mick tell me everything that night,” I continued. “He tried to put me off, but I think he was afraid I was going to tell someone.” My voice cracked.

  “He was gay,” I announced firmly, nodding my head. “That’s what he told me first. He wasn’t shy about it. It was like he was glad to get it off his chest. And it made so much sense, you know? I kind of started putting things together in my head and was realizing all the signs I’d ignored, but then he mentioned Mr. Phillips, and his entire voice changed.”

  The room was quiet as I tried to get my thoughts together. I almost didn’t know how to explain the change that had come over Mick that night.

  “He was ashamed,” I finally whispered, shaking my head. “Whatever was going on with Mr. Phillips embarrassed him. He didn’t want to talk about it, and he tried to say it was nothing, but I knew. I knew.”

  “He was fourteen years old,” Callie cried, shaking her head.

  “It started midway through the year,” I said, focusing on a knob on the dresser across the room. If I wanted to finish telling them, I wouldn’t be able to look at them again. “And at first, Mick was kind of flattered, you know? This hot teacher was paying attention to him, and he liked it. But then it escalated, and Mick didn’t like it anymore but he didn’t know how to stop it. He just…” my voice trailed off. “He got railroaded into something by someone he should have been able to trust.”

  “Did he rape my boy?” Grease hissed.

  “I don’t know,” I whispered, still staring at the dresser knob. “But he did something and it went on for months.”

  Callie cried quietly, but Grease was eerily silent. After a long moment, I lifted my head and met his eyes.

  “I should have said something,” I said, my voice thick with apology. “But he begged me not to, and I tried to protect him the best I could, and then… and then he was gone.”

  “You were a good friend to my boy,” Grease said, his eyes wet. “He put you in a tough position.”

  “I should have said something,” I whispered again. “I was older. I should have done something.”

  “Neither of you kids was prepared to deal with somethin’ like that,” Grease replied quietly, shaking his head. “We drill that shit into our girls’ heads, but—”

  “But we thought our boys were safe,” Callie cut in. “They’re so big and strong. By the time they hit high school, I didn’t even…” She looked down at her hands. “I watched them closely when they were little, but once they were bigger than most men, I didn’t watch as closely,” she whispered.

  I knew exactly how she felt. Mick had always seemed so strong to me. Even as a freshman, he’d seemed bigger than the rest of the guys I knew. He carried himself differently, was more aware of his body and the power it held. But looking back, I couldn’t help but realize he was still just a kid. A really big kid. And he’d had no idea how to fight against the manipulation of someone older and well-versed in getting exactly what he wanted. I shuddered as I remembered Mark Phillips’ face when I’d walked in on him and Mick. The guy hadn’t even been nervous I’d found them together. He’d seemed almost smug. Like he was sure he would get away with it.

  When Mr. Phillips had gone missing, I’d been glad. It was all over the news for months, and I’d watched every single broadcast, praying they hadn’t found him. I’d known he hadn’t run away. The man was too sure of himself for that. If someone had seen something or accused him of something, he would’ve acted like he didn’t know what they were talking about, that he’d get away with it.

  When months went by without a trace of him anywhere, I’d breathed a sigh of relief and promised myself I’d never say anything about what happened with Mick. Mr. Phillips was gone and there was no chance of him hurting anyone ever again, and I’d promised my best friend I’d keep my mouth shut. So I had.

  I pulled my legs up against my chest and dropped my head to my knees.

  Then I asked Mick to forgive me for not keeping his secret.

  Chapter 16

  Thomas

  “You’re not comin’ in here,” my brother argued as he stood guard in my doorway.

  “He’s hurt,” Molly hissed. “Let me in so I can at least tape up his knuckles.”

  “You see my face?” he asked. “I’m fuckin’ hurt. Tommy can stew in his own shit.”

  “You have a black eye,” Molly said flatly. “I’ll kiss it better later. Now let me in.”

  They’d been having the same argument for the last five minutes and Will wasn’t budging. I didn’t blame him.

  I was lying in my bed with one arm curved around my chest as I tried to breathe shallowly. When I’d lost my shit earlier I was pretty sure either my uncle or Dragon had cracked one of my ribs. It wasn’t broken, I’d felt along the bone to make certain, but it sure as fuck was cracked. Molly didn’t know that, though, or I was pretty sure she would have pushed her way in without my brother’s permission.

  She wasn’t afraid of him. My brother’s temper rivaled mine, but Molly had absolutely no fear. I closed my eyes and pictured the way Heather had cowered, her arms wrapped around her head like she thought I was going to hit her. I swallowed down the bile in my throat and breathed deeply through my nose.

  They’d all thought I was going to hit her. Every single person in that room thought I was going to attack my wife. Heather, who was about a hundred and ten pounds and at least ten inches shorter than me. They’d thought I was going to hurt her.

  It hadn’t been my intention, not for a second, but I knew it hadn’t looked that way. Had I wanted to keep her quiet? Yes. But I’d never even considered using force. Will had been holding me back from her since she’d come into the room and the longer I’d had to watch her freaking out without being able to hold her, the worse my anxiety had gotten. By the time she’d started spilling secrets I’d been at the end of my rope.

  It wasn’t even the words spilling out of her mouth, though those had made my skin crawl. It had been the look on her face as she spoke that had pushed me over the edge.

  So I’d done what I had to just to get to her. Just to get my hands on her. I hadn’t wanted to fucking hurt her. But the minute I’d gotten past Will, she’d been terrified. I’d seen it. Hell, I’d felt it. The entire room had felt it.

  That had made me even worse. I hadn’t been thinking straight. I knew that. She’d been terrified of me. I’d been the problem. But when I saw her drop down onto the floor, the only thing I’d been able to focus on was the fact they were keeping me from her. It hadn’t quite registered that she was cowering from me.

  It wasn’t until they’d held me against the floor, with a knee in my back and another on my neck, that I’d comprehended what I’d done.

  “Will,” Molly said, sweetly. “Get the hell out of my way.”

  She pushed into the room and Will growled as he spun and followed her to the edge of the
bed.

  “I swear to Christ, Tommy,” he warned, his jaw tight.

  “I’m good,” I mumbled through swollen lips.

  “God, Tommy,” Molly whispered, gently brushing my hair back from my forehead. “Why didn’t you just stop?”

  I hadn’t seen my face, but I guessed it was pretty bad by the look in her eyes.

  “They wouldn’t let me get to Heather,” I rasped, closing my eyes.

  “Of course we fuckin’ didn’t,” Will shot back.

  “Will,” Molly snapped. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

  “Wasn’t gonna hurt her,” I told Molly, looking up at her. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Is that a fuckin’ joke?” Will asked.

  I shook my head and closed my eyes again, blocking him out. I knew what they all thought and there was no way to prove them wrong.

  “Is there something wrong with your ribs?” Molly asked, resting her hand softly on my arm.

  “Think I cracked one,” I answered.

  “Your breathing is a little fast,” she mumbled. “Can we get this shirt off?”

  I swallowed hard. “Don’t think so,” I answered.

  Will made a sound but I didn’t look at him. I was ashamed and embarrassed and I just wanted to be left alone.

  “Come on, baby brother,” he said gruffly, sliding his hands under my armpits and lifting me into a sitting position. I turned my head away so I wouldn’t have to meet his eyes.

  “Can you lift your arms?” Molly asked.

  “No,” I rasped. There was no fucking way that was happening.

  I heard the snick of a knife, and then Will was cutting open the front of my ripped t-shirt, baring my chest and stomach.

  “Oh my God,” Molly said in horror as she peeled the shirt down my arms. “You need to go to a hospital. Will, we need to take him to the hospital.”

  “I’m fine,” I rasped, shifting a little on the bed. “It’ll heal.”

  “Tommy, you could have internal bleeding. This—” she shook her head, eyes wide. “This is bad.”

  “I’m fine,” I said again as the door swung open. My mouth slammed shut as my dad came in the room. I glanced behind him, but he no longer had Heather with him.

  “Ah, TomTom,” he said my childhood nickname quietly, as he looked me over.

  “He needs to go to a—” Molly’s words cut off as Will shushed her.

  “My boy,” Dad said, crossing the room. When he got to me, his jaw clenched, and he practically fell onto his knees.

  My eyes watered and I turned my head away. He knew.

  “It’s okay, son,” he said, reaching out to wrap his hand around the back of my neck.

  He pulled me against him gently, holding my head against his shoulder, and when his other hand started rubbing my back like he’d done when I was a kid, I couldn’t stop the sob that tore out of my throat. I’d held my tongue for so long, kept the secret for so long, that when it was finally out it felt like something was tearing loose in my chest. My baby brother, my best friend, had been preyed on by some asshole and I’d had no idea. I hadn’t helped him. I hadn’t taken care of him. I knew him best, and I’d missed it.

  “It’s alright, son,” Dad murmured, rubbing his hand around and around in small circles between my shoulder blades. “It’s alright.”

  “I burned him,” I choked out. “Cut him into pieces and buried him all over the Tillamook Forest.”

  “Okay, Tommy,” my dad said, his arms steady. “Okay.”

  I let it all out. I didn’t care if Molly and Will were still there. I didn’t care if the door was open or closed, or if the entire club had come to watch. I shook and sobbed and my dad didn’t move except for that hand rubbing my back. He murmured and trembled, his voice growing hoarse, but he didn’t pull away.

  “Didn’t want you to know,” I said finally, my breath choppy. “Mom was barely gettin’ out of bed.”

  “You can tell us anything,” my dad replied. “Your ma and I have been through shit you can’t even imagine. There ain’t nothin’ in this world that’ll break us.”

  I nodded against his shoulder.

  “Wasn’t your fault, Thomas,” he said, kissing the side of my head. “I know you, boy. Know the shit that runs through your head, know what you’re gonna do before you do it, and ain’t none a’this your fault. You hear me?”

  “I should have seen it,” I whispered, so fucking ashamed I could barely breathe. “I should have noticed.”

  “You were seventeen years old.”

  “Old enough,” I replied.

  Dad pulled back so he could look me in the eyes. “How’d you find out, son?”

  I clenched my jaw and looked away.

  “Thomas,” he said.

  “He had a phone,” I gritted out through my teeth. “Fuckin’ burner. There were text messages. Mick was tryin’ to get away from him, but the guy kept sendin’ them.”

  “Christ,” my dad mumbled, shaking his head.

  “I found it later. After he was gone. He’d hidden it in the slats under my bed.”

  Dad reached up and smoothed my hair back from my forehead, his eyes unfocused. “Shoulda paid more attention,” he said, watching his hand. “Knew you were dealin’ with some hard shit, but I shoulda paid more attention.”

  “It’s alright,” I mumbled, grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand out of my hair. “Everything was fucked back then.”

  We were quiet after that, both of us lost in our memories. The months after Mick’s death had been unbearable. I hadn’t been able to function without lashing out at everyone and everything and I’d been pretty sure I’d die from the guilt.

  My baby brother, the boy I’d wrestled with and picked on and who’d followed me around for most of my life, had tackled me to the ground when the shooting started. He was bigger, and stronger, and no matter how I’d struggled, he’d held me down.

  Thud. One heartbeat. Thud. Three heartbeats. Thud.

  He’d been hit three times, and I’d felt his body jerk with each one.

  There was no way to move past that. No way to come to grips with it. My brother had died shielding me with his body and it shouldn’t have been that way.

  I was the elder. It was my job to protect him, not the other way around.

  Goddamn him.

  I was so fucking angry with him.

  When I’d found out about what had been happening, that he’d been hiding this horrible secret from everyone, I’d snapped. I wasn’t sure how I’d had the foresight to cover my tracks, but it must have been ingrained like muscle memory, because no one saw me when I’d snatched Mark Phillips off his front porch the day after I found Mick’s phone.

  I’d taken my time with him, and I’d left no trace behind.

  And I’d never said a word, protecting my baby brother the only way I could anymore.

  I shifted on the bed, and it was enough to knock my dad out of whatever memory he’d been living in. He climbed to his feet and sat next to me, leaning forward until his elbows rested on his knees.

  “How’s Heather?” I asked, staring at my hands. They were so torn up I could barely move them.

  “Scared,” my dad said quietly. “Upset.”

  “I didn’t mean—” my voice broke. “I wasn’t gonna hurt her.”

  My dad said nothing.

  “Swear to Christ,” I said roughly. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  He turned his head slowly and met my eyes, nodding after a moment. “Alright,” he replied softly.

  “She’s okay?” I asked, swallowing hard. “She’s not hurt?”

  “She’s hurtin’, son,” he answered. “But she’ll be okay.”

  “I wasn’t tryin’ to scare her,” I rasped, my throat tight. “I was tryin’ to get to her.”

  “We gotta get you some help,” he said gently. “Ain’t no controllin’ you when you’re like that. We gotta figure out how to fix it, son.”

  “Okay.” I nodded. “Okay.”

  C
hapter 17

  Heather

  “I’m fine,” I told my sister, my throat raw from crying. “I just want to go to sleep.”

  After I’d left Grease and Callie’s room that night, I’d found my sister sitting in the hallway, her arms wrapped around her knees. Waiting. She hadn’t understood what was happening and she hadn’t been sure what room I was in, but she’d known I’d needed her.

  I’d walked straight to her, my eyes dry, and the moment I held out my hand she’d gripped it tightly and led me out of the clubhouse and right to her car. We’d left without a word to anyone, not even Rocky, and she’d let me sit in silence the entire way to my apartment.

  She hadn’t said a word until I’d undressed and climbed into bed.

  “You sure you don’t want to talk about it?” she asked quietly, running her fingers through my hair.

  “No,” I replied. “Not tonight.”

  “Okay.” She climbed up next to me and sat with her back against the headboard, and I automatically scooted over to rest my head on her lap.

  I closed my eyes as I felt her cool fingers slide across my forehead.

  We stayed like that, both of us silent, until I finally drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  “Sisterbeast,” Mel called softly the next morning, rubbing my shoulder. “Callie and Farrah are here to see you.”

  “What?” I asked, reaching up to rub my eyes. “What time is it?”

  “Nine thirty,” she said. “I asked them to wait outside since you don’t have any pants on.”

  “Thanks,” I grumbled. I’d tossed and turned the entire night. It didn’t even feel like I’d slept.

  I climbed off the bed and pulled on a pair of sweats and a bra, then waved at Mel to let my visitors in as I walked to the kitchen for some coffee. My head was throbbing.

  “Hey, Heather,” Callie said as she came inside. She looked around for a second before setting her purse on the floor and moving further into the room. “How ya doing?”

  “Tired,” I replied, giving her a wan smile. “How about you?”

  “Same,” she said.

  “Well, I feel like shit,” Farrah announced. “You have coffee?”