Savage Collision: A Hawke Family Novel (The Hawke Family Book 1) (13 page)

“And it was good?” Storm asks, her genuine interest apparent in the way she turns her back to Ben and Angelina and leans toward me on the table.

I think back to the dinner, and how amazing it was once she loosened up. “It was spectacular, actually. We talked and texted the whole time I was in Cali.”

And did a whole fucking lot more than that, but that isn’t for anyone else’s consumption.

“No wonder you were in such a good mood the entire time we were there.” Storm smiles at me.

Skye snorts. “So, why are you being such a douche now? She get wise and dump your ass?”

“Skye Marie Hawke!” my mother snaps. “Shut your trap.”

I chuckle at my mother’s ridicule of my sister. Skye has always been the sassiest of the Hawke children and the one who tests my mother’s patience and temper the most. My mother has given her a lot of leeway since Star’s death. Losing your sister is gut-wrenchingly painful, but losing your twin sister, that’s another form of misery I can’t even begin to fathom. Skye hasn’t been handling it well, anyone can see that, but she keeps everyone at arm’s length and has adamantly refused to talk about the accident, or Star’s death, with anyone, as far as I know.

Maybe I shouldn’t talk. I haven’t exactly been forthcoming with my family about everything either, and I was a total dick to the psychiatrist who tried to talk to me in the hospital. We Hawkes are known for our stubbornness and need for control. I guess it shouldn’t surprise me she would react the way she has.

“No, she didn’t dump my ass. At least, I don’t think she did. I guess that’s the problem. I have no idea where we stand right now.”

“What happened?” Mom asks.

Sighing, I drop my head back and stare at the popcorn ceiling of the dining room for a minute. I know they aren’t trying to pry—they’re genuinely concerned about me—but sometimes I wish my family didn’t care quite so much. It might leave me some space to breathe.

Returning my eyes to the table, and finding them all staring intently at me, I know I won’t get out of this without telling them.

“Well, she came over to my place for dinner last night, and things didn’t exactly go smoothly.” I glance around the table, hoping that will be enough to satisfy them, but they all urge me on with their eyes.

“Why not?” Skye asks, finally sounding like she really gives a shit instead of just asking to goad me.

I drop my head into my hands and grit my teeth. “Because she didn’t know.”

“She didn’t know what?” Skye continues and I look up at her just in time to see her take another drink of her wine.

Storm glares at her, then turns her attention back to me with a sympathetic smile. I don’t have to say it. Everyone, except Skye apparently, knows exactly what I am talking about. “How did you manage that?”

“It wasn’t intentional. It just kind of happened that way. When she came to my office I was behind my desk, and when we had dinner at Angelo’s she came late. I was already at the table.”

Storm groans and leans back in her chair. “And you didn’t think to maybe mention it to her?”

I growl and slam my palm against the table, garnering a look of reproach from my mother. “Of course I thought to mention it, but things were going so well, and it’s not like it organically comes up in conversation.”

Skye scoffs. “No shit.”

“Seriously, Skye?” I snap at her.

She holds her hands up in surrender. “Sorry. Shutting my mouth now.”

Storm laughs at her. “Yeah, right, that’ll last ten seconds, tops.”

“Stop it,” Mom barks. “Savage, what happened?”

“Well, when she saw me, she dropped the bottle of wine she was holding and it shattered all over the floor.” Everyone, including me, cringes and I debate how to tell them the rest while keeping it PG. “Then, I told her about the accident and we had dinner. I thought it went well…but, after we were done, she high-tailed it out of there like her ass was on fire and told me she would talk to me later.”

“And?” Storm stares at me intently.

“And, it has been almost a full day, and not a single word from her.” I can’t remember the last time I sat around waiting for a phone to ring.

Adults don’t do that, do they?

“Shit.” Storm reaches out and downs the rest of her wine. “That really sucks. Have you tried calling or texting her?”

“No, I’m not going to push her into anything she isn’t ready for. She knows how to get a hold of me. I just wish I knew what the hell she was thinking.”

“Are you just going to sit on your ass drinking wine all night?” Caroline asks, dropping down into the couch next to me. She leans forward and grabs the almost-empty bottle off the coffee table and tips it back, emptying what’s left into her mouth. “What is that? Bottle five in the last twenty-four hours?”

“Don’t exaggerate,” I say, taking a long drink from my, thankfully, full glass. “It’s more like four.”

She bursts out laughing and snatches the remote off my leg, pressing pause on that damn rain scene in
The Notebook
. “It might help if you stopped watching all these damn romantic chick-flicks and got your mind off of it. Since when are you a sappy movie girl, anyway?”

Since I met Savage Hawke.

I set my glass on the coffee table before turning my back to the arm of the couch and pulling my knees up to my chin. “I just don’t know what to do, Care.”

My brain has been a maelstrom since I left Savage’s last night. All I can think is what a total, absolute, complete fucking bitch I was to run out of there like that, especially after he gave me an incredible orgasm.

“I know, sweetie, but sitting here drinking isn’t going to give you any of the answers you are looking for.”

I beg to differ.

“What will?”

Seriously, what will?

I’ve been living the last day in a nightmare of indecision. One part of me wants nothing more than to fall into his arms and enjoy the sweet taste of his kiss again, while the other part of me wants to run as far and as fast as my legs and my will can carry me.

Savage Hawke is my greatest desires and my greatest fears all rolled into one. He is precisely the kind of man I’ve always known would capture my heart and actually be able to hold onto it—something I’ve managed to avoid my entire adult life—and now I know he might not be able to give me what my body needs.

Sometimes having a sex drive like a man really, really sucks.

Caroline smiles sympathetically and rubs my knee. “Honey, I don’t know. What do you want me to say? From what you have told me, he’s stupid hot, kind, funny, rich. It doesn’t seem like there’s much not to like. I get that you are worried about how his, uh, condition will affect things between you, and believe me, I get it, but you are the only one who can make this decision.”

Letting out something resembling a groan and sigh, I drop my head back on the couch and close my eyes. “I’m so glad Doug is sending me to D.C. tomorrow. I need an assignment to occupy my mind right now.” Although politics isn’t the most exciting area of my job, getting away for a couple days can only be good right now; anything to take my mind off my inability to make up my mind.

“What’s going on with that big story you keep teasing Doug with? You ever gonna tell me what it is?”

I reach for my wine and return my gaze to her. “No, not until I know where it’s going. This contact I have sounds promising, but he still hasn’t delivered on any of the stuff he says he can get me. I’ll let you, and Doug, know when I have something solid.”

“Well, take the time you have in D.C. to figure your shit out, girl, ‘cause you can’t leave that poor guy hanging like that.”

Downing the rest of my wine, I savor the cool liquid sliding down my throat and resign myself to the fact that Caroline is right. What I did was awful, and I can’t leave things like that, even if I decide I am too big of a chicken-shit to pursue things with Savage.

Savage, who, even now, sets my body on fire. The videos, his words, his damn hands…

I climb up from the couch, surprised when I don’t wobble after the drinks I have already consumed. “Hey, it is still early…ish. Let’s go out.”

She eyes me and points at the clock. “It’s almost 8:30, on a Sunday. Where the hell do you want to go?”

Pulling my shirt off and walking toward the bedroom, I glance over my shoulder and wink at her. “It doesn’t matter, anywhere but here.”

“I don’t have any clothes here,” she whines, looking down at her sweatpants and t-shirt.

“You can borrow something!” I call from the bedroom as I yank off my sweatpants and step into the bathroom.

Ick. I look like crap.
I guess that’s what happens when you sit on your ass drinking all day and don’t bother with makeup, or a curling iron, or anything else normally used to make one presentable.

“Fine.” She appears behind me in the mirror and leans against the doorjamb and I start applying my eye makeup. “You know, I think The Garage has a band on Sunday nights.”

“Excellent!”

I need to lose myself in something, something other than Savage. Maybe music would do the trick.

Music.

Dancing.

Men.

Booze.

All the things that normally put me in that blissful state of “I don’t give a fuck” and just let me be.

At least, they did before I met Savage. I let myself get way too involved with him way too quickly. The phone calls and videos lured me into this semi-relationship status when I barely knew him—clearly—and when the last thing I need in my life right now is the complication of a full-time man.

I need quick and easy. Well, not necessarily quick.… There is definitely something to be said for slow, torturous, unhurried sex. Sometimes that is exactly what I need, but more often than not, a rapid, hard pounding is just the ticket.

I’m sure that’s all I need to get Savage out of my head for good.
 

Staring out the cab window at the rain-soaked streets, buildings, and people of D.C., I’m barely able to contain my annoyance at the cabbie’s choice of route to the hotel. We’re at a dead standstill in some roundabout and I’m ready to bite his head off after a long four days of interviews and writing. All I want to do is get back to the hotel, yank off my heels, throw on my sweats, and down about half a bottle of bourbon.

At least this asshole isn’t blasting music in here. The last thing I need is a headache.

I hate politics, and I hate politicians and lobbyists even more. These people are the true scum of the Earth. I honestly think my version of hell would be living and working with these people and having to hear them spew their nonsensical horseshit all day.

Four days of it already has me at my boiling point. I thought Mayor Dunne was a scumbag, but he pales in comparison to some of these people. I need that story done, just like I need to figure this Savage situation out. Both have been weighing heavily on my mind. One, the Abello/Dunne story, is out of my control—I’m at the mercy of Paul and him getting me what I need. But the other—my indecisiveness about Savage—is completely on me and I need to suck it up, be a big girl, and figure out what I’m going to do.

I pull out my phone for the millionth time during the trip to check my messages. My heart sinks when I see nothing has changed.