"I don't want any more kids," he said, knowing the lie would sever Windy's feelings for him. Although he'd taken precautions to prevent pregnancy, a part of him wanted the chance to father another child. A child with Windy. But how could he bring another life into the world without total acceptance from the son he'd left behind? And asking Windy to wait wouldn't be fair. "Why do you think I've been so careful about using protection? I didn't want to take the risk of getting you pregnant."
She flinched as though she'd been stabbed, but he remained where he stood, hating himself for wounding her. For allowing her to fall in love with him. And damn it, for falling in love himself.
Windy felt a gasp of air rush painfully from her lungs. Oh, God, what should she do? Sky didn't want children, yet she carried his babe in her womb. "There was that one time we forgot to use protection," she said, struggling to keep herself from breaking down.
"Yeah, but it didn't happen, so there's nothing to worry about."
Nothing to worry about. She was pregnant and the man she loved was leaving, flying to Oklahoma, while her bruised and battered heart still longed for him. He didn't want children—not even with her.
Sky rolled up his shirtsleeves and reached for the duffel bag, exposing a gash on his arm.
"What happened?" she asked instinctively.
He turned his wrist and studied his arm. "I cut it when I was trying to fix my truck. It's no big deal."
"You should let me put some antiseptic on it," she heard herself say. "And a bandage, too." Lord help her, but she needed to touch him, breathe his scent, imprint the texture of his skin into her mind.
"Okay." He placed his luggage on the floor. "I suppose it could get infected. And I have a few minutes."
Windy's legs carried her numbly to the bathroom and back. Sky sat beside her on the bed while she opened the first-aid kit. She touched him gently, nursing his injury with care. He was, and would always be, the man she loved. The father of her child.
"Pretty Windy." He pleaded her name with apology, and their eyes met. The long, lingering gaze caused her tears to flow. One by one they dropped onto her cheeks, clouding her vision before they fell. Sky reached for her and pressed her head against his chest, stroking her hair with his bandaged arm.
Windy buried her face in his shirt and cried soundlessly. This is where I belong, she thought, in his arms.
Tell him, her mind implored. Tell him about the baby. He had a right to know. And regardless of what Sky had said about his other child, Windy didn't believe he had abandoned the boy purposely. If she told Sky about their baby, he'd stay. He would remain with her out of honor and duty.
"Sky—" she lifted her head "—I…" Honor and duty? Was that what she wanted? "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cry." She worked free from his embrace and dried her tears with the palm of her hand. She wouldn't belittle herself by trying to keep a man who didn't want to stay. He made the choice to leave and she would let him. From that moment on, the baby she carried would be hers. Hers alone.
"I'm fine now," she said, lifting her chin defiantly.
He stood, backed away. He wore jeans and the dusty black boots he favored, his hair banded into a tight ponytail. "I wonder if your son looks like you," she said. "If he's as tall and dark." She didn't believe there was a child at first, but Sky seemed so sure.
Sky shrugged. "He might be eighteen by now. A man in his own right."
Windy nodded and gazed at Sky, remembering the intimacy they had once shared. He had been her best friend, her lover. Now it seemed as though he was neither.
"I'll be back in a few days," he said. "You don't mind taking care of Tequila while I'm gone, do you?"
"No, not at all." Windy had come to think of the snake as her spirit animal as well. "She's no trouble."
He managed a smile. "You've come a long way in three months, Pretty Windy."
"You'd better go." She fought another flood of tears and looked away, knowing she had already lost the man she loved. He'd be back, but not to stay. Their summer fling had left her pregnant and alone. An unwed mother with a broken heart.
* * *
The following afternoon Sky stood in front of the house on Shepard street
, thinking it looked a bit smaller than he remembered and far less intimidating. But then, he was no longer a frightened child, fresh with grief from the loss of his parents.
The tree-lined street lent the neighborhood a suburban charm, as did manicured lawns and carefully tended flower beds. He could hear the murmur of bees buzzing through the quiet, sweltering Oklahoma air.
With sweat beading his brow, he took another step toward the porch, then stopped, struggling to remember his name.
Sky…
Skyler…
Damn it. Why couldn't he recall something as important as his last name? The name that had belonged to his father.
Suddenly an image flashed through Sky's mind—a tall, broad-shouldered man with copper skin and a thick, black ponytail. My dad. My strong, protective dad.
Immediately a woman's image followed, and he knew the blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty was his mother. She had been young and vibrant, gentle and sweet. And she had died with her husband on a humid summer night when another vehicle collided with their truck.
Sky approached the porch and sat on the first step, his head between his hands. All the grief, the awful, lonely pain came gushing back like an icy river flowing through his veins. The warmth and comfort he had known as a child had died in that battered old pickup. And soon after, a social worker had taken him to Shepard Street
, leaving him, teddy bear in hand, at someone else's home.
"What are you doing on my property?" an angry female voice asked.
Startled, Sky turned to gaze up at the woman at her front door, wedged in the small opening she had allowed.
"I'm sorry. I…" He stood and gripped the porch rail. "I used to live here."
She cocked her head. "You must be mistaken. I've owned this house for over thirty-five years, and no one but me and mine have lived here."
"It was a long time ago." He skimmed his fingers over the painted wood rail. "But I'm certain it was this house. I was a foster chi—"
"Oh, my," she said, releasing her hold on the door.
Sky remained on the bottom step as she approached. She was a stern-looking Native American woman with short, graying hair and a stout, stocky body. She didn't seem familiar, yet he knew she must have been his first foster mother.
"Take those sunglasses off," she ordered from her perch above him.
He removed them and stood in the patch of sunlight that crossed the steps.
A smile softened the lines around her mouth. "Blue as ever." She gestured for him to come closer, apparently certain of his identity.
He slipped the sunglasses into his pocket and climbed onto the porch. "I'm sorry but I don't remember your name."
"Maggie. Maggie Redbow." She sat down in a white wicker chair and invited him to do the same. "And you're little Sky, all grown up. You were the only foster child we ever had. You stayed here for about a year. Our own kids never really got used to the idea of another child living with us, so we realized being foster parents wasn't going to work."
A sea of questions flooded his mind, but before he could pose even one, Maggie spoke again.
"You know, Jesse was here. Eleven, maybe twelve years ago. He found you, didn't he? That boy had been searching everywhere."
Jesse? Sky rubbed his temples. The only Jesse he remembered was a worn-out teddy bear.
He turned to Maggie. "My son was here?"
"Goodness, no. I don't know anything about your son. I was talking about your brother."
Immediately Sky's heart knocked against his chest, sending images surging through his brain. The gray-eyed boy crying as a social worker carried him away. Sky, as a child himself, rubbing his own teary eyes.
Pain. Fear. Loneliness. The loss of his … brother? Yes. Oh, God, yes. Sweet, trusting two-year-old Jesse.
"They separated us," he said, struggling to still his quaking hands. "Jesse went to a different foster home." Sky gazed at Maggie Redbow and realized, with a startling mix of relief and regret, that he had no son. The boy in his nightmare was his baby brother. And Sky hadn't been a teenager when he'd lost Jesse. He'd been a child himself, an orphaned six-year-old. "But when the social worker took him away, she had forgotten about his teddy bear."
Maggie only nodded. "Like I said, your brother was here."
Sky's breath hitched as another memory invaded his mind. Adoption… Windy had said something about adoption. That was it, the reason he had lost touch with Jesse. Not long after he and Jesse were separated, he'd asked the social worker about seeing his brother. But he'd been told the other child was in the process of being adopted, so visiting Jesse wasn't possible. Sky had cried that day, believing he had lost his baby brother forever.
"Did he leave an address or a number where he could be reached?"
"No, but he said he'd be back someday. Of course, he hasn't been. At least not that I know of."
"What was he like?"
Maggie gazed up at the porch roof, then back at Sky. "He looked similar to you, but he was leaner, and his eyes were sort of a silvery color. He was only eighteen then, so I would imagine he's changed quite a bit. He's probably filled out the way men do."
"What about his personality? Did he seem happy? Was he talkative, quiet?"
She folded her hands on her lap. "Quiet, I suppose. It was so long ago, and it was such a brief visit. He seemed determined to find you, though. He'd already been to all of your other foster homes."
Sky closed his eyes. Oh, Jesse, little brother, where are you now?
Windy was right, he thought. The amnesia had confused him, jumbled fact and fiction in his mind. Somehow Sky had transposed his scattered memories of Jesse with the struggle from his teenage years, making him think they were connected.
I didn't abandon a child. Jesse had been taken from him, and he'd kept his brother's teddy bear all those years, even though he couldn't recall its importance.
Sky smiled. Windy would help him find Jesse. She'd…
The smile faded. How could he expect Windy to help him after the hurtful things he'd said to her? He'd never even told her that he loved her. Yet all along she'd believed in him, loved him with an unconditional acceptance most men could only dream about.
He had to go back to California and apologize to Windy, beg her forgiveness. And he'd do it tonight. He couldn't lose Pretty Windy. Not now. Not ever. How could he have left her, alone and crying?
Sky stood. "Maggie, I know this is going to sound like an odd question. But, what was my name when the social worker first brought me here? You know, my legal name?" Sky intended to propose to Windy, but he couldn't very well offer her his name if he didn't know what it was.
"Skyler Michael Hawk," she answered. "At least that's what I was told."
Skyler Michael Hawk. He gazed out at the trees that lined the walkway. Suddenly the name felt as familiar as his own heartbeat.
Hawk. Just like the bird, the messenger in his dreams. Sky tested his brother's name in his mind. Jesse Hawk. Jesse Aaron Hawk. His beautiful baby brother, the boy his heart had never forgotten. "If it's okay, I'd like to leave my number with you in case Jesse ever comes back."
"Certainly." Maggie slipped into the house and returned with a small leather address book. Sky wrote Windy's number, hoping, praying she'd take him back.
Late that evening Sky arrived in California, only to find Windy missing. Tequila slept in Windy's bed, but the lady was nowhere to be found.
"Damn," he cursed nervously. "Where could she be?" It was after midnight on a weekday. Windy should have been home, snuggled between the sheets, her wild mane fanned across a pillow.
Uncertain of what do to, he reached for the phone, preparing to call Edith. But as he lifted the receiver, he noticed the blinking light on Windy's answering machine, signaling a message.
He pushed the play button and listened.
"Umm … Windy," an anxious voice said, "I don't know if you remember me, but my name is Lucy. You said I could call if I ever needed—"
God, no. Sky stared at the machine, his heart clenching with an unbearable ache. Apparently Windy had intercepted the call, which meant she was with Lucy somewhere. And if Lucy was in trouble, then so was Windy, because, Sky knew, the two of them didn't stand a chance in hell against Lucy's abusive husband.
* * *
Windy had never been so exhausted in her life, or so weak. Her limbs wobbled as she walked. Dizziness, she knew, was common in the early stages of pregnancy, but she had never expected fainting spells to happen to her. Of course, it had been a long night, filled with emotion. She unlocked the front door, stepped inside and found herself blasted with a frantic, masculine curse.
"Damn it. Do you know what time it is? I've been worried sick."
Immediately her legs gained consistency. She wouldn't dare collapse in front of Sky. And what was he doing back so soon, anyway? He'd only been gone one night, and dang it, she had just begun to put his features out of her mind. Forced herself to forget that determined jaw and those sparkling blue eyes. But now he was there—tempting her nostrils with his woodsy cologne.
Windy lifted her chin. Her pride couldn't take much more. The man had walked out on her. "Since when do I have to answer to you?"
"Since you decided to go off on your own and play Wonder Woman. Do you know how scared I was when I heard that message on your answering machine?" He pulled a hand through his already tousled hair. "You had no business trying to save the day. You should have called the police. They would have helped Lucy."
Giving in to her exhaustion, Windy lowered herself onto the couch. The tiny baby in her womb deserved a strong, healthy mother. "Lucy needed me." And being needed had felt good. Taking Lucy and her children to the women's shelter had warmed the shattered pieces of Windy's heart.
Sky sat on the end of the coffee table, too close for comfort. "So the fact that Lucy has an abusive husband didn't concern you?"
"Hank is in jail. He was arrested for drunk driving. It was his second DUI, so Lucy knew he'd be detained for a while."
Clearly Sky wasn't satisfied. "Hank has that psycho brother, you know."
"Jimmy's a truck driver. He was on the road." Windy met his gaze, refusing to apologize for helping someone in need. "Lucy wasn't in any danger, and neither was I. She realized this was the perfect opportunity to get away, so she called me."
"Oh." His expression softened. "Well, I was worried, ya know. Edith wasn't home, either, and that just upset me more. I've been pacing all night."
"Edith waited for us at the shelter." She glanced away, wishing she didn't love him so desperately. "Everything's fine now, so feel free to move on when you're ready."
"Is that what you want, Pretty Windy? For me to go?"
She forced herself to look at him. "It's what you wanted. You're the one who left, remember?"
"Yeah, I remember." He heaved a loud sigh, and she realized he was as emotionally spent as she. "You were right about my son, Windy. He doesn't exist. The little boy I kept dreaming about was my brother."
Windy's heart lunged to her throat. So Sky didn't have a child. She touched her tummy. At least not one he knew about. "You have a younger brother?"
"Yeah." He smiled. "His name's Jesse. And that teddy bear belonged to him."
Instinctively she reached for Sky's hand. "So you met him?"
His smile faded. "No, but my foster mother said he'd been looking for me. Of course, that was about eleven years ago." He slid his fingers between hers and settled himself beside her. "My parents died when I was six and Jesse was two. We were separated and taken to different foster homes. That's how I ended up with Jesse's teddy bear. The social worker accidentally left it behind."
He brought their linked hands to his cheek and closed his eyes, his expression sad. "God, all those dreams. All those nights of
hearing Jesse cry." He opened his eyes and lowered their hands, slipping his fingers from hers. "I have to find him. But I don't know where to start. Oklahoma's a big state, and he might not even be there anymore."
Windy took a deep breath. Beautiful Sky. Beautiful orphaned Sky. She tried to picture Jesse, wondering if the brothers looked alike. Did they share the same ebony hair and dimpled smile? The same copper skin and long fluid body?
Windy touched her stomach. Would her baby inherit those features, too? "You should contact one of those search organizations. You know, the kind that help family members find each other. All you have to do is leave Jesse's name. And yours." She paused as her heart skipped an anxious beat. "Oh, my God, Sky, did you find out what your last name is?"
"Hawk," he answered softly. "Just like the birds we've been seeing."
Windy's eyes began to mist. "Your messengers."
"Yeah. But I'm not sure if Hawk is still Jesse's last name. I think he was adopted, at least that's what I remember the social worker telling me when I asked to see him." He pulled his hands through his hair. "Do you think you could help me find him, Windy?"
"Of course," she said, as their eyes met. "I'll always be here if you need me." She could never turn away from Sky. If friendship was all he could offer, then she would raise his child and be his friend, even though she would always long for more. "We can start looking for Jesse right away. I know how important this is to you."
He placed his finger against her lips and traced their shape, slowly. Gently. "Thank you. Just knowing that you'll be here, that I can count on you…"
She savored the stolen moment of intimacy, the longing and the need. "You can, Sky. Always."
"Always?" He slid his finger from her lips to her cheek, skimming lightly. A soft, yet rough, touch. Calloused and masculine. "Does that mean you still love me?"
She caught her breath. She'd love him until her dying day. "Yes."
His eyes, the bright-blue eyes she adored, turned watery. "I love you, too, Pretty Windy."
She gripped the couch for support. Suddenly her limbs felt molten. She had thought he'd loved her before, but he'd walked away. "You don't want children," she heard herself say. She was carrying his baby, and he didn't want children. Love couldn't mend that. Could it?
SKYLER HAWK: LONE BRAVE Page 17