Chapter Twenty-Three

At the rate the night was going, everyone would be drunk before Hawk managed to get Jeni married to him. And somehow he couldn't bring himself to mind.

The memorials always involved drinking. Shipp's boys would circle the cars, headlights shining in, and the adults would gather to laugh and cry while they passed around bottles of Big John's stomach-melting moonshine.

Finn and Trix had arrived at the edge of Four in a car loaded down with the good stuff. Not just the top-shelf liquor, but a couple of bottles from Nessa with labels Hawk had never seen before—the small batch runs that had aged for years and went down so smooth, Big John was swigging it like water.

Nessa would probably be horrified. Hawk just hoped the man would still be steady enough to perform the wedding ceremony.

They'd already performed the other one. Three small stone cairns stood in the middle of the circle, constructed from rocks gathered by the children, held together with mortar mixed from the dirt of their new home. Maybe someday they'd go back into Sector Six and gather up the other cairns to bring to their new home. Maybe they'd go back to the farm and take Shipp's and Luna's with them. Either way, the people they'd lost would be remembered, and loved.

The third cairn was for Noelle's father.

Hawk glanced across the fire at her. She still hadn't left the protective circle of Jas's arms, but some of the bleak uncertainty had faded from her eyes. Every last one of Hawk's brothers and sisters knew the miserable confusion of grieving a father who had caused you so much pain.

They'd help her find solace, and peace. They would understand if she cried and also if she didn't. Sometimes that was all it took, breaking free of everyone else's expectations.

“I'm so glad you decided to do this tonight.”

Hawk turned to Alya, who had come up to lean against Big John's car beside him. “Are you sure?”

“Hell, yes.” She slung an arm across his shoulders and pulled him into a half hug. Though her eyes were still rimmed with red, they were clear tonight. Alya was in leader mode, strong and resolute in the face of her people's grief and uncertainty. But there was joy there too—sincere pleasure—and Hawk had to wonder how much his solitary, determined existence had worried her over the years.

Probably more than he wanted to know.

“She's a good girl,” Alya said softly, watching as Jeni and Trix hugged Bethany, all three of them blinking back tears through their laughter over some story Bethany was telling. “She'll take care of you. That's all I ever wanted.”

“We'll take care of each other,” he countered.

She smiled. “Even better.”

“All right,” John said as he stepped into the middle of their loosely gathered circle. “Let's do this before I get so liquored up I can't see straight.” He peered down at the slim, leather-bound book in his hand, rubbed his eyes, then tossed the book over his shoulder. “Fuck it, I don't need it. Not for this.”

Alya nudged Hawk with her elbow. “Go get your girl.”

Hawk kissed his mother's cheek before pushing away from the car. Bethany nudged Jeni toward him, and for a second he felt as stunned as the first moment he'd laid eyes on her. The bright headlights lit her up from behind, just like the lights on the stage, but she wasn't dressed in her costumes and masks. She wasn't hiding.

She walked toward him, her simple sundress swaying in the night breeze. The necklace he'd given her circled her throat, the medallion resting over her clothes. Over her heart. His own heart pounded as hard as it had before his first race.

He caught her hand in his and turned to face John. “I've had about all I can stand of not being hers.”

“I hear that.” He straightened his shoulders. “Most things in this world don't last. They're made and eventually fall apart. Plants grow and wither. People are born, and then we—” His gravelly voice hitched. “Well, we die. It's just how things work. There's no start without a finish. No beginning without an end.”

Jeni squeezed Hawk's hand.

“The only exception, the one thing that never has to die, is love. It's what keeps us together when times are tough, what helps our people remember us when we're gone.” He glanced at Alya, so quickly Hawk could have blinked and missed it. “Love can last forever.”

Alya lifted her bottle in silent tribute. Around the circle, people echoed the gesture, raising flasks and tin cups and sometimes just their joined hands. Hawk's eyes burned as he clung to Jeni's hand…

And let go of the rest of his fear.

If he died next week, he'd want Jeni to go on. To hold him in her heart, to remember him with love, but to keep living. To do it for his sake, until eventually she wanted to live for herself again. Just like Shipp would be looking down from wherever he was, whispering to Alya to love him hard enough to love herself someday.

And if Alya had gone down fighting, she'd have wanted the same for Shipp. Just like Jeni would have wanted for Hawk.

That was all she'd meant that day in the workshop, the day he'd shut her down over and over again with his promises of the future. Not for him to say he'd had enough of her, but to promise she could be enough. That he'd love her every day like it was the only day that mattered, because they were fighting to fix a broken world. Putting his life on her shoulders, making his survival conditional to hers…

It was selfish. And they would both break under the strain of it.

He rubbed his thumb over hers and met her gaze. “I promise to love you. Wherever we go, whatever happens. In this life and anything that comes after it.”

Jeni touched the pendant around her neck. “Me too.”

John broke out in a huge grin. “Right on. Now go forth and multiply, or some shit.”

The crowd around them broke into laughter. Hawk did too, even as he hauled Jeni to him. She was smiling when he kissed her, her lips tilted up, and he realized he wanted to spend the rest of his life kissing her while she was smiling.

“Congratulations,” she murmured against his mouth.

He pulled her closer. “That's right. Everyone should be congratulating me. I just married the best woman in the whole damn world.”

“I know better than to argue with that.”

Hawk kissed her again.

Alya's voice rose above the hoots of the crowd. “Enough, enough. You're scandalizing the babies.”

“The babies went to bed hours ago,” someone else shouted. “The rest of us are enjoying the show.”

Hawk broke away from Jeni with a fake scowl. “Who said that?”

Half a dozen people called out different names, and Alya smiled as she walked toward Hawk. Then she slipped her hand out of her pocket and held it out, and Hawk's heart kicked in his chest.

He recognized the keys. A simple set, with a tiny metal flag hanging from the ring. Just three bars of color—green, white, and orange. It'd been banged up over the years, the colors fading, scratches and dings marring the surface, but Hawk had seen those keys in Shipp's fist a thousand times.

“Alya, I can't—”

“Hush.” She jerked her head toward the far side of the circle. “Big John got her all cleaned up for you. Shipp would want it this way. I have too much damn work to do to go driving. She deserves to be with someone who'll love her like he did.”

He saw the pain under her joy. Maybe someday, when the loss didn't cut so deep, Alya would want that car back. Maybe she'd want the memories of all the times they'd disappeared for an evening drive. All the times they'd vanished for even longer.

Until she was ready, Hawk could take care of this part of Shipp's legacy. Lord knew his mother would have her hands full with the rest. “I'll take care of her.”

“I know you will.” She dumped the keys in his hand and dragged Jeni into a rough hug. “And you keep taking care of him.”

Jeni smiled, but she didn't reply until she was back at Hawk's side, her arm around his waist. “It's what I live for.”