“Oh?” Reaching over, I hooked a finger under her chin and pulled her head back around. “You should look someone in the eyes when they are talking to you.”
Her lips puckered, and I struggled not to laugh.
She was too damn cute pissed off.
“Don’t laugh at me.” Lottie swatted my hand away but kept looking at me, daring me to speak.
“Tell me why I don’t deserve my song anymore?” My tone softened, genuinely interested in her fourteen-year-old logic.
Her lower lip trembled, and my eyes widened in surprise.
Were those tears?
“Lottie, you can tell me.” I cautiously rested a hand on her slender shoulder so I didn’t spook her. The last thing I wanted was to trigger a hate response due to her past abuse, but she allowed me to touch her.
Swallowing hard, she looked down at her sandaled feet, sniffling. “You’re gonna leave,” she whispered. “You’re gonna leave and not come back.”
Silently cursing myself for being so thick, I finally understood.
“Me moving to Florida upset you?” I continued to use the severely underused soft range of my voice.
Lottie nodded, wiping at her eyes. “It’s so far away.”
Dammit, kid, why?
Without trying to, Lottie continued to break my heart.
“It is far away, but I plan to still come home to visit.”
She shook her head. “You don’t get it.”
“But I do.” With one foot, I kicked the ground, and the swing began to move. “You and me, we’re a lot alike. We do things our own way; overcome our pasts to move forward into our futures.” I rubbed my hand over the stubble on my chin. “And my future belongs by the ocean.”
Lottie flinched.
Shit.
What had I done now?
Instead of dwelling on her reactions, I gave her a chance to speak. “What do you want to do when you get older, Lottie?”
Her nose wrinkled the way it always did when deep in thought, and she shrugged. “I want to play music, and maybe teach other kids how to play.”
“That’s a great dream.” Offering a smile, I leaned back against the swing. “Do you want to know mine? I’ve never told anyone this, so you’d be the one and only.”
That seemed to pique her interest, and she nodded, sitting back as well.
“I’ve always loved the ocean.” My mind took me back to the beach in Jamaica. “The way you love feathers? I guess you can say I’ve always loved seashells and the beach. I feel free there.” Glancing down at her, I noticed she listened with rapt attention. “My dad always wanted me to take over his business, but I never wanted to. I dreamed about living and working by the ocean, maybe on boats or maybe with marine animals, but I wasn’t born for concrete and an office.”
Lottie’s emerald eyes deepened with a sense of wisdom that shook me. “You’re meant to fly too, Hawk. Just like I float on music, you do with the ocean.” She exhaled a long sigh of resignation. “I suppose I should let you hear your song. I mean, it’s only fair.”
I stared at her in wonder. The old soul within her had a habit of surfacing when I least expected it.
“I would really love that.”
Lottie hopped to her feet and waited for me to follow.
She left me standing next to the piano while she went upstairs to grab her journal. Seeing her hold the leather-bound book tight against her chest made me smile. I’d never given anyone other than my grams gifts, but knowing the journal meant the world to Lottie made my life.
“I hope you like it.” She took a seat on the bench and opened the journal to the page she’d shown me four months ago. “When I nod my head, can you turn the page, please?”
“Of course.” I sat down next to her and poised myself to help her.
“Here goes.” Lottie began to play the melody that’d been stuck in my head since I left for the city.
The music came from a place of emotion, a rawness in Lottie that I could easily relate to. Beautiful notes ebbed and flowed together, weaving a tapestry of truth. Lottie might believe she wrote this song for me, but the subdued, sorrowful notes switched about halfway through to subtly victorious.
Ah, Lottie.
As I glanced down at her, the blissful expression on her face caused my stomach to clench.
She knows what I know.
Her head nodded, and I turned the page as she effortlessly continued her song.
Our lives were parallel, but in different times.
Florida beckoned, eager for me to spread my own wings and make something of myself away from my father’s shadow and my mother’s betrayal. Lottie’s music gave her the wings to fly for brief moments and in small bursts. I knew I had to go but leaving knowing how much Lottie looked up to me would hurt.
“Hawk, are you okay?” Her small voice broke me out of my thoughts.
“Huh?”
Quickly gathering my wits, I forced a smile. “That was amazing.”
“Did you really like it, or are you just saying that?” She arched a pale brow.
My hand moved on its own, tapping the end of her nose gently. “I loved it. Thank you, Lottie. I’d love it if you could play it again, so I could record it to take to Florida with me.”
Emerald eyes shone wide. Her cheeks turned pink, but she nodded, flipping to the first page. I recorded the melody via my smartphone, simply happy to make her happy. When Lottie finished the second time, she turned and wrapped her tiny arms around my waist.
“I’m gonna miss you, Hawk.”
Tears blurred my vision, and I placed an arm carefully around her much smaller shoulders. “Same, kiddo. I’m going to miss you too.”
And I did.
So much more than I should have.
Chapter Eleven
Charlotte
Two years later …
A lot happened over the next two years of my living with Mrs. Ames. When Hawk left, the house became empty even though I still had the four other girls living with me. His presence was commanding, though, and his ghost lurked around every corner.
Two months after Hawk left, I asked the question that tiptoed in the dark recesses of my mind. I didn’t want to know, but a part of me needed to know, and I was ready now. Where was my mother? I asked Mrs. Ames and Mrs. Dawson together, and they’d exchanged glances.
“Are you ready to know the truth, dear?” Mrs. Ames gave a sad smile, and I thought the worst.
She’d been killed, kidnapped herself, or she’d overdosed.
At least, that was what I’d told myself.
So when Mrs. Dawson pulled out a file from the large wooden desk in the library and handed it to me, I stood shocked.
“Your mother is in a women’s correctional facility in Utica.” She glanced at Mrs. Ames. “She was charged with possession of a multitude of drugs and confessed to conspiring with her partner at the time to sell you.”
The floor shifted beneath me, and Mrs. Ames helped steady me as Mrs. Dawson continued. “The man your mother was seeing at the time told her that you were to return to her. He lied to her, and she was actually picked up when she went to the police station to file a missing person’s report kidnapped.”
All the color drained from my face. Cold snaked through my veins.
Icy-hot truth.
My mother agreed to sell me for drug money.
I stared at her mug shot, her straggly blond hair a bit darker than mine. Her hollowed eyes seemed to glow black, and her skin was mottled and blotchy from drug use. The woman who’d given birth to me and tried so hard to be a good mother for the first six years of my life.
What made her give up?
It doesn’t matter now.
She can’t hurt you from there anymore.
“Lottie?” Mrs. Ames said, gently rubbing back. “Would you be interested in going to see her?”
My gaze drifted back up to the woman who’d rescued me. “No but thank you.”
I simply set the file back down
and turned to walk out of the room, a large weight lifted from my shoulders.
She wasn’t dead, but she wasn’t alive.
Not to me.
Not anymore.
Lily eventually graduated high school and moved to the dorms at Cazenovia College, the private university in town. She tearfully bid everyone good-bye when she left for orientation, promising to visit on the weekends. I’d started school the fall of my fifteenth year. Luckily, Melody and I shared the same classes so re-adjusting wasn’t quite so hard. We were in the high school building and made a small group of close friends.
Mrs. Dawson only came by twice a month to keep up on therapy sessions, and Mrs. Peterson privately tutored the other children in the local area. I liked school, loved it even, and always came out at the top of my classes. Music especially took center stage in my life.
My choral instructor began giving me private lessons with Mrs. Ames’s permission. Mr. Birch and I got along famously. He reminded me of the grandfather I’d never had and classically trained me. Twice a week after school, he challenged me on everything from technique, to harder and harder pieces.
Hawk emailed me nearly every week.
He used to write, but the moment I told him I’d gotten a gmail account from school, he’d sent me his, and we corresponded that way. His once hard, cold demeanor seemed to melt away in the Sunshine State. His hair fell a little bit shaggier, his scruff a bit thicker, and his skin glowed copper from hours in the sun.
Pictures of him at various places on the ocean, on a beach, or with injured marine animals always came attached. I sent him a few pictures of me with Melody and even snuck a couple of Mrs. Ames.
Soon, he’d convinced me to join “the living,” so I’d signed up for a Facebook and Instagram account. When Kelly taught Melody and me to drive, Mrs. Ames insisted that we both get cell phones in case of emergency. A part of me wished I’d never agreed to friend him on either account.
Hawk: Hey! You finally got a Facebook! Welcome to the new age. ;)
Me: Ha-ha, very funny. You know how your grams is weird with social media.
Hawk: I’m glad to see you’ve managed to convince her. How are you doing?
Missing you, but I kept that to myself.
Me: Great. How’s Florida?
Hawk: I love it here. You need to visit.
Little dots jumped, and then a photo appeared. Hawk had taken a selfie on his back porch with the ocean sunset in the background. My heart ached. The late-day shadows fell over his face, sharpening all his features. His smile made my heart skip beats all over the place.
Me: Wow, it’s so gorgeous. I’d love to. I’ve never been on a plane.
Hawk: You’d love it here, Lottie. You’d never want to leave, and I think I’d be okay with that.
That statement sent my pulse into overdrive.
Me: You’d want me to stay with you?
Hawk: We’re family, Lottie. If ever you want to leave that small town, you have a place here.
I sat back in my computer chair. Family, right.
Our innocent correspondence and friendly banter ripped the mask I’d been parading around in since the moment I met Hawk. Pictures with of him with gorgeous women at nightclubs, in beachside clubs, or on expensive looking boats were exposed to my viewing pleasure. The old emotion that used to creep up whenever he looked at me or hugged me shattered into pieces, scattering like scrap metal around my feet. He’d come home a few times to visit, and every time, he didn’t seem to notice anything new about me.
My hair now fell well over my shoulders in long waves. I’d filled out everywhere, and boys at school were constantly asking me out on dates. Melody gushed over me and my looks, and I always shyly changed the subject.
But no matter how much I grew up and changed, Hawk didn’t see me any differently. For Christmas this last year, he’d come into the house stomping his boots on the mat in the foyer.
“Hawk?” I’d come around the corner, telling myself not to rush him.
“Lottie, get over here,” he demanded with a bright smile on his face. I ran into his arms, inhaling his familiar scent, not caring that his jacket was freezing cold. His hand ran over the back of my head, smoothing down my hair. “I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you.” Taking a step back, I blushed, hoping he’d say something. But he didn’t.
“Where’s Grams?” He took off his jacket and hung it up, glancing over my shoulder. Disappointment settled in my belly, but I shoved it aside. He was home, and that was all that mattered.
Every birthday and Christmas, he continued to gift me feathers. The first one he’d sent for my fifteenth birthday—a gorgeous sterling silver necklace with a dainty feather pendant. Every present since then had a feather theme. My favorite was a beaded bracelet with tiny seashells and dangling feather trinkets. Glancing down at my wrist, I realized I wore it almost every day.
Hawk rarely came home in the summer. He and his friend Jax ran a very lucrative marina and sports shop and also helped rehabilitate stranded or wounded marine animals at a second location. Summer meant busy season, but for some reason, he was coming home this time.
My stomach didn’t leap for joy as it normally did. Mainly because the same brunette woman continued to pop up in his newsfeeds in pictures and tagged posts. And then the day before he was scheduled to come home, his relationship status changed.
I read the tag through stinging eyes.
Hawk McLean was now in a relationship with Marion Lyle.
A sappy picture of the two of them kissing took over his profile picture, and I closed the lid of my laptop in slow motion. I now understood all my emotions. I’d most definitely had a crush on Hawk as a young teen and that had somehow morphed into full-on like the older I got. Now, though, jealousy raged through my bones. Hurt sang in my blood.
Hawk and I had seven years between us, and for the past two years, he’d been states away. Sure, emails kept us up to date with each other, and we’d cherished our visits, but we lived different lives. The thought of him ever meeting a woman or having a relationship never crossed my mind. I’d been naïve and just assumed he’d always be mine, but the truth was, I’d never had a chance.
While Mrs. Ames chatted happily about Hawk’s return with his “friend” at dinner, I pushed the food around my plate. Sometimes, I caught myself staring at his empty seat next to mine.
You’re being stupid, I chastised myself. He thinks you’re a little girl, nothing more.
That night, my pillow caught silent tears.
He’s in love, and she’s the luckiest girl in the world. I sniffed, allowing myself to wallow in my stupid broken heart. He’ll take her anywhere in the world and treat her like a princess.
The bracelet around my wrist taunted me, and I hurriedly took it off. Tomorrow, I vowed to do what took two years to break out of—I’d keep my distance from him.
It’s the only way to protect myself.
Even though I told myself I would act unaffected, distanced, and unmoved, I spent over an hour getting ready. From the outfit I wore to the way I did my hair and makeup, everything was done in subliminal hopes Hawk would notice just one time before I gave up on him forever.
Get a grip, I told myself in the mirror. There will be lots of men who want you even with your past.
But they won’t be Hawk.
“Ugh.” Rolling my eyes, I focused my attention on my hair.
I’d chosen a pair of faded denim shorts that showed off my long, tanned legs coupled with a pale purple tank top with lace. Sperry’s boater shoes in tan donned my feet. I wore an array of bracelets and the necklace with the feather pendant Hawk had given me.
Once I wrangled my hair into a fishtail braid that fell off my shoulder, I triple checked my makeup. Not too over the top, just like Lily taught us, I mixed pale purples and nudes for a natural look. If Hawk still saw nothing, then I was shit out of luck. Marion was model tall with an athletic build and perfect. I might not be perfect, but I’d give h
er a run for her money.
“Lottie, Hawk’s here!” Cassandra knocked on my door and let out a low whistle. “Wow, you look hot.”
I blushed. “Thanks, just trying out a new look for the summer.”
She gave a knowing smirk.
Cassandra said the least of all of us, but nothing slipped past her.
“Well then, come on, Cinderella.”
Taking a deep breath, I followed her down the hall that’d grown so much shorter as I’d grown bigger. I heard Hawk’s laughter before I saw him, and my heart raced ahead of me.
Squeezing the pendant of my necklace, I said a silent prayer.
Now or never.
I just prayed it would be now and not never.
Can one make wishes on a feather?
I’d have to face my fears to find out.
Chapter Twelve
Hawk
“I cannot believe you live in such a small town,” Marion complained. She sniffed the air through the open window. “Eww, is that cow shit?”
I sighed. “I told you I grew up in the country by farms.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Still, I didn’t think it was Little House on the Prairie level.”
Rolling my eyes, I focused on driving.
“How far away is the nearest Starbucks?” she whined.
I’d met Marion Lyle while selling her father a yacht. The gorgeous brunette didn’t hesitate to flirt with me, and I’d later gotten her info and we’d started talking. She’d grown up in Los Angeles, and she and her family had a condo in the Keys. An aspiring actress and model, her gorgeous looks and sexy body attracted me to her immediately. Once we started talking about how she loved animals and wanted to help as many as she could, we clicked.
That was two months ago.
Since then, I’d found out she’s a vegan and very passionate about animals—to an extreme. We’d had an all-out argument over why I would continue to eat what I wanted, and that she didn’t have a right to butt into my personal space.
Too late to go back now.
Marion practically skipped out of the rental car, eager to meet my grandmother and extended family. That was what I called the girls my grams took in. Marion ate up every story I told her. The one story I didn’t tell, but instead talked about in present tense, was Lottie. I let her listen to some of Lottie’s compositions and filled her in on some of our small day-to-day conversations.
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