I spend most of the day crying.

At first I think maybe I can focus on get some work done. Do something productive to distract myself. But I just can’t stop thinking about this morning. I can’t get the image of that angry, gaunt woman out of my head, and her little boy. Connor.

Hawk’s son.

No matter how I try to come up with another explanation — some way to tell myself I’m overreacting — I just can’t escape the fact that I misread what happened earlier today at Hawks house. But the evidence was right in front of me. I have to face it.

It’s not that I’m jealous of an ex-girlfriend, although I have to admit I sort of am.

It’s that he could be so completely unfeeling and uncaring about his own child.

I just can’t ignore that. I can’t ignore that it says something about who he is as a person. I’ll never be able to trust him now, no matter what happens. I’ll never be able to believe he wouldn’t do something similar to me, if I somehow happened to get pregnant.

I have to stop seeing Hawk.

I don’t know how I’ll stand it, but I do.

The pain that hits me in the chest as I tell myself this is almost physical. I thought being cheated on by my fiancé was the worst possible way I would ever be hurt by a man. But somehow, this is so much more devastating. Even though it’s not a betrayal of me, exactly.

It hurts, I realize, because Hawk hasn’t even betrayed me yet. But now I’ll always be afraid that eventually he will. And that makes me feel like all the oxygen is being sucked out of my lungs.

The phone rings a couple of times, but I don’t answer it. I have an appointment later in the day — with a potential client for some family reunion photos — but I call and cancel it in between crying jags. After a while, I stop crying and fall into an exhausted sleep on the couch. Thankfully, I don’t dream.

When I wake up, it’s almost dark already. I’ve slept almost the entire day away. I feel a little better, and make myself some toast for dinner. Then I sit down and force myself to go through some emails and plan my day tomorrow.

I’m just about to shut my laptop and make myself go to bed when there’s a soft knock at the door.

I tiptoe up to it and see Hawk’s profile in shadow on the other side.

“I know you’re in there, Samantha. Your car is here,” he says.

“Go away.”

“No.”

“I’m not opening the door.”

“If you don’t open the door tonight, I’ll just sleep here,” he says. “Your grandma might take offense at me camping out in her back yard after a while.”

I shut my eyes tight and will him to go away, but when I open them again it’s clear he means what he says. I fling open the door.

“Go away,” I say again.

“I need to talk to you.”

“No.”

“Please.” His deep voice is gentle. Almost like a caress. I almost burst into tears again.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” I whisper.

“Sam.”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t try to come in, but he makes it clear through his body language that he’s not leaving, either. “That wasn’t what you probably think it was,” he says.

Somehow I manage to laugh. “Oh, no?” I ask bitterly and shake my head. “I have to admit, I can’t think of a lot of alternative explanations to why a woman with a little boy would be coming to you asking for money. So you must have spent some time to come up with a really good one.”

“Samantha.” He doesn’t get angry, or defensive. If anything, he just sounds tired. “Please. Just please let me in and give me five minutes. If you still don’t believe me after what I have to say, then I guess I’ll just have to live with that.”

I open my mouth to say no again. I swear I do. So I have no idea why that’s not what comes out.

I sigh.

“You promise to leave the next time I ask you to.” It’s not a question. It’s the only way I’m letting him in this house.

He nods. “I promise, Sam. Just hear what I came here to say.”

“When Liam found Anita in my bed, he assumed we’d been going behind his back for a while,” Hawk is saying now, staring at his hands. “He was so upset he wouldn’t listen to anything I tried to tell him.” He shakes his head. “And Anita wasn’t saying anything at all. Fuck, it didn’t even seem like she cared all that much that we’d been caught. Maybe she thought I’d take her back if she and Liam broke up. I don’t know.

“Liam went running out of the apartment. By the time I got some clothes on and ran after him, he’d sped away in his car.” Hawk’s voice goes ragged. “The next morning, the police came knocking. Liam had been in a one-car crash outside of town. He was going too fast around a corner and hit a tree. They said he probably died on impact.” He looks down. “I’ll never know whether he did it on purpose or not.”

“Oh, my God,” I breathe. I want to reach out, to touch him, but I’m afraid to move. I feel sick to my stomach at Hawk’s words. It’s clear to me he’s not lying, at least about this part. He looks too destroyed. Like it just happened yesterday, instead of ten years ago.

“Not long after Liam died, Anita miscarried. At least, that’s what she said.” He rubs his jaw absently and finally looks at me, his eyes full of pain. “She wasn’t far along enough to be showing. Looking back on it now, I’m not sure she ever really was pregnant. Or if she was, whether it was even Liam’s kid.”

“I’m so sorry, Hawk,” I murmur. And it’s true. My heart is breaking for him. Even though it happened so long ago, it’s clear he’s still living with the guilt.

Hawk leans back against the couch cushions. “Anita tried to start something back up with me after Liam died, if you can believe that shit.” He blows out a disgusted breath, his face contorting into a snarl. “I told her to stay the fuck away from me and changed the locks on the apartment. After that, I didn’t see her for a while. I heard she left town, then she was back, and somewhere along the line she got into drugs. I think she managed to piss off pretty much everyone she knew who wasn’t a fucking deadbeat. Then she got pregnant.” His jaw tenses. “Somehow managed to give birth to a healthy baby.”

Connor.

“So… the little boy. He isn’t yours?” I ask.

He sighs. “No. I don’t know who Connor’s dad is. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if Anita doesn’t, either.”

I feel sick, and horrible for judging Hawk for something he didn’t do.

“I feel damn sorry for that kid,” Hawk says huskily. “Because as far as I can tell, Anita doesn’t give two shits about him. And it could have been Liam’s kid, you know? Maybe if my brother was still alive, it would have been his. Hell, Liam would have been fucking miserable with Anita, but at least he would have been a good dad to his son.”

“So, that’s why you give her money for food sometimes,” I say softly.

“Yeah, I guess so.” His expression is impossibly sad. “Probably doesn’t do much good, but I just keep hoping it’ll get Connor through for a little longer, and that maybe one day Anita will pull her shit together and start being a decent mother.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “Not much chance of that, though.”

I reach out and gingerly run a finger over the outline of Hawk’s newest tattoo.

“Liam,” I whisper, reading the word inscribed underneath the guitar. “Thank you for telling me, Hawk.”

“I’ve never talked to anyone about it before.” Hawk glances over at me.

“I’m honored,” I say. “Truly.”

His eyes meet mine. “I’m pretty sure my five minutes were up a while ago. Do you still want me to leave?”

In response, I move closer to him.

“No,” I murmur, as he takes me in his arms. “I don’t want you to leave.”