CHAPTER 11
RHIANNON
In all the years I’ve known Hawk, this is a side of him I’ve never seen before.
Nurse Hawk.
Who would have thought it?
When we served together, he was always concerned when one of us was injured, but it was more in a brisk, problem-solver sort of way. He was always the first to run out to pick up prescriptions or crutches or a new heating pad to replace one that wore out. As team medic, I was the caretaker of the group, and on the rare occasion that I was the one sick or hurt, I usually played it down so the others wouldn’t worry.
Well. If I’m being honest with myself, I was afraid of being seen as the weak link of the team. Not that my teammates ever made me feel that way—they all treated me as an equal—but there was this niggling insecurity I could never seem to shake.
Maybe it was because my parents tried so hard to discourage me from joining the Army, doubling down their efforts when I announced my plan to join the Green Berets. I can still remember my mom gently lecturing me after Thanksgiving dinner that year, saying, “Rhiannon. There’s a reason those jobs were limited to men for so long. I’m all for women’s rights, but you’re just not as strong as the men. And I’m worried you’ll end up getting hurt. Or killed.”
I know she didn’t mean to upset me. Or make me feel less. But it stuck with me for years after, that reminder that no matter what I did, my body simply wasn’t built the same way as the men I served with.
Then there were all the comments after. Not just Allen, but men in my battalion who made no secret of their feelings about women in the Special Forces. That I was too emotional. That I wasn’t strong enough. That I’d be a distraction.
“Does she have to have her own tent?” One such soldier asked during a pre-mission briefing. “Her own designated spot to go to the bathroom? And what if she sees me naked? Will I be accused of sexual harassment?”
No. To all of those things. I was determined to be just like everyone else, and I never, ever asked for special treatment.
But looking back, it’s not too hard to see where my rabid stubbornness comes from, and my reluctance to admit feeling anything less than one-hundred percent. And in hindsight, I can understand why I felt this driving need to keep everything with Allen quiet for so long. Not just to protect my team, but also my self-esteem.
Of all my teammates, Hawk seemed to understand the best. Probably because we spent the most time together, so he knew about my parents and how much it hurt that they didn’t believe in me. And he knew how badly I wanted to be accepted, not as a female Green Beret, but just like everyone else.
So I appreciated his no-nonsense way of handling injuries and illnesses. Have a fever? Get some Tylenol. Sprained ankle? Stock up on ice packs and pillows. Healing stitches that itched like crazy? Cillian would look up the best remedies and Hawk would rush out to the store to get them.
But now? No-nonsense Hawk is gone, replaced by a disconcertingly sweet and worried one. In the twenty-four hours since I came back from the hospital, he’s been by my side nearly the entire time, and most of it has been spent making sure I’m okay. Every few hours, he offers to check my stitches, asks if I need another pain pill, makes yet another snack—because, as he says, “When you’re healing, your body needs the extra energy. And I don’t want you to get worn down.”
That’s not even taking into account all the times he nudges me back toward the couch, gently scolding me for trying to do too much. As if doing a load of laundry is an intense workout instead of a chore that takes me a few minutes. And if I try to make something in the kitchen? Forget it. “You don’t need to do that,” Hawk reminded me this morning when he came over to find me scrambling some eggs. “Relax and watch some HGTV. I can finish breakfast.”
Could I put my foot down and insist on taking care of myself? Sure.
Do I want to?
Honestly? Not really.
As disconcerting as it is to see this new side of Hawk, I can’t deny that I like it.
I like the soft way he looks at me, his eyes turning a mossy green tipped with molten gold.
I like the feel of his hands on my arm as he gently unwraps the bandage and checks my stitches, even though he already looked at them less than two hours ago.
I like seeing him here, bustling around my apartment like he lives here and isn’t just visiting.
And I really like the times when he sits on the couch next to me, his arm coming around my side—he asked if it was okay the first time, and since then, it’s become habit.
Is there still a stubborn part of me that wants to insist on doing things for myself? Of course. I don’t think I’ll ever not feel that way. But giving up some of my hard-earned independence is worth it when the reward is so great.
Hawk. Back after years of missing him. Not just back, but staying .
I won’t delude myself into thinking it’s for good; not when he has a job to get back to in Alaska. But he’s not leaving anytime soon, like he explained last night. “I’m supposed to be back on the boat in three weeks,” he said, “but I can always pick up another job. As long as you want me here, I’m staying.”
Am I still nervous that he’ll change his mind? A little. How could I not be? But he promised to stay, and Hawk’s not a liar. At least, the Hawk I knew before wasn’t.
Yes, there’s a chance he could leave and I’ll end up crushed all over again. And this time, it would hurt even more because of this new direction our relationship is taking. If he leaves this time, I won’t just be losing my best friend, but the man I’ve dreamed of being with for years.
He wouldn’t leave, though. Right? Not after promising. Not after the kisses we shared last night. Not after staying until almost midnight, watching episode after episode of House Hunters just like we used to. And not after rearranging all his plans so he can be here with me, swearing to do whatever it takes to make sure I’m safe.
And he wouldn’t leave after saying he loved me, would he? Not that he said he still does, but he did . And his feelings couldn’t have changed that dramatically. At least, I hope they haven’t. Because even after everything—the years apart, the hurt feelings, the empty hole where Hawk used to live in my heart—I still love him.
Crap. I don’t think I’ve ever been this scared and hopeful at the same time. Scared he’ll leave. That he’ll hurt me again. And so hopeful that this will finally— finally —work out just as I always dreamed it would.
“Rhi, are you okay?”
Hawk sinks onto the couch beside me with a concerned expression pinching his features. “Is it your arm?” he asks. “Or are you feeling feverish?” He touches my cheek with the back of his hand. “You feel a little warm. Maybe I should call Dante and have him come take a look at you.”
For just a moment, I can’t form a response. All my attention is focused on how handsome he is. How his stubble accentuates his strong jaw and full lips, which I discovered are just as nice to kiss as I always thought they’d be. How his hair is mussed like he’s been running his hand through it, and the afternoon sun streaming through the window catches glints of bronze and copper. And my eyes are drawn to the white T-shirt stretched across his very broad chest, concealing muscles I’ve seen but always ached to touch.
In my old job, I worked with a lot of men, some of them who would be considered conventionally attractive. The Blade and Arrow guys are all good-looking themselves—just because I’m not interested in any of them doesn’t mean I don’t have eyes. But Hawk is in a category all his own. An extremely sexy category that no one else I’ve met has ever come close to.
“Rhi? Babe?” A beat later, Hawk frowns. “Shit. Forget I said that.”
The happy bubble that appeared when he called me babe deflates just as quickly as it came. I’ve literally never been called babe by anyone, and honestly, I would have considered it demeaning if anyone else said it, but from Hawk’s mouth, I liked it. Or I did until he tried to take it back.
“Forget you said what ?” I ask tightly, already knowing the answer to it.
“Calling you babe.” Contrition deepens his voice. “You probably don’t like the word. I’m sorry.”
Oh.
He thinks I’ll be upset about it.
But weirdly, I’m not. So I take a deep breath, breathing past the weight pressing on my chest as I reply, “I don’t mind it. When you say it, at least.”
Hawk stares at me for a second. Then his face relaxes. “It just came out. But I liked saying it.”
The happy bubble re-inflates, followed by a rush of warmth filling my chest. “I liked hearing it, too.”
His smile expands. “Okay, then.” He presses a quick kiss to my cheek. “I won’t say it all the time. Because to me, you’re my Rhi. And?—”
“ Your Rhi?”
“I didn’t mean it like that. You’re not mine , of course. You know I’m not like that.”
Seeing Hawk like this—uncertain, trying so hard to do the right thing, when he’s usually nothing but confident—makes my heart squeeze.
Maybe I’m not the only one who’s scared. Because this something more is different from friendship.
“I know what you mean.” Scooting closer to him, I kiss his bristly cheek. “I always thought of you as my Hawk. Even though I knew you weren’t.”
There’s a long pause. His gaze holds mine as he finally says, “I was always yours, Rhi. Even when I screwed things up and thought I blew any chance with you. You’ve always had my heart.”
Oh.
Tears prick at my eyes.
A tsunami of emotions hit me at once. Regret. Guilt. Love.
And hope. So much of it.
It takes me a few seconds to trust myself to speak. Once I feel confident in talking without crying, I reply, “You were always mine, too.” I cover his hand with mine. “I think we both need to forgive ourselves. Because it’s going to be hard to see if this works”—I gesture between us—“if we’re always apologizing.”
Hawk blows out a breath. “You’re right.” A beat, and then, “I want this, Rhi. So badly. But sometimes I say the wrong thing. Or I curse too much. You deserve better than me, really. But I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.”
“I don’t deserve better than you. You’re incredible. Brave, smart, funny, kind, handsome… You could have anyone you wanted.”
“I don’t want anyone . I want you.” His gaze is dark and intense as he looks at me. “And you are the incredible one. You’re the most amazing woman—no, person —I’ve ever met. You’re intelligent and strong and beautiful and generous and so damn courageous. From the moment I met you, I never looked at anyone else.”
Oh.
There’s a part of me that wants to fling myself at Hawk and declare my undying love for him right here and now.
Which would be premature by the nth degree, considering we just decided to try this dating thing—are we dating? Seeing each other? I’m not sure—yesterday. So it would be smart to take things slowly.
But I don’t want to , a stubborn voice in my head insists. I’ve already waited this long to be with Hawk. I don’t want to wait.
My annoying and very un-fun practical side argues silently, but it’s too soon. You don’t know for sure Hawk is staying. Don’t jump into anything yet.
Silencing my internal debate, I make the responsible but unenjoyable decision to push declarations of love until later. Instead, I settle for part of it. “I’ve never looked at anyone else, either.”
Hawk smiles. “Good.” His hand comes to my cheek again, big and warm and softly calloused, no doubt from the long hours spent working on the boat. “But you distracted me. Are you feeling okay? Should I call?—”
“I’m fine.” I scoot even closer to him. “I’m probably just warm because of the blanket. But I feel good. Not sick at all.”
His brow furrows. “Not chilled? Or light-headed?”
“Nope.”
“What about your arm? I know they gave you some antibiotics, but it’s possible you picked up an infection that’s resistant to them. And infections are nothing to mess around with.”
“Hawk.” My voice is gently scolding. “You just looked at my stitches. On both arms. Less than two hours ago. You would have seen an infection. And don’t forget I’m a trained paramedic. So I would know if something was wrong.”
After a moment, Hawk admits, “I suppose you’re right. I guess I just can’t help worrying.”
Turning toward him, I debate draping my legs across his. Instinct tells me to do it, but there’s a niggling splinter of insecurity I can’t quite get out. Even after all he’s said, part of me is scared I’ll end up rejected.
Then again.
I’ve faced things far more frightening than this. Ops when we were outnumbered three to one. Times when I truly wasn’t sure if we’d make it home. Standing in Allen’s office, terrified he would ruin the careers of people I cared about. Losing Hawk.
Surely I can take this small risk.
So I do it. With a held breath, I snuggle closer to him and rest my legs over his.
He goes still, his thighs tensing.
My heart skitters.
Then.
Hawk’s arm comes around me and he pulls me against his chest. All his muscles relax. He presses a soft kiss to the top of my head.
Oh.
This feels so right .
As his breath feathers across my hair, I ask, “Why are you worried now? You never seemed this worried before.”
His chest rises as he draws in a breath and lets it out slowly. “I always worried, Rhi. Always. Sometimes… it was torture knowing you were in danger. But I couldn’t let on how scared I was for you. Not back then. At least… I was there. So I could try to make sure you were safe. But I was always worried. But now… I thought it would be okay to show it.”
It makes sense. But I can’t deny the pang of sadness that comes from knowing how long we both hid our feelings. And I can’t help wondering how things might have been different if we’d admitted them years ago.
But it’s like I just told Hawk. Dredging up old regrets and what-ifs isn’t going to accomplish anything other than making both of us feel bad. And really, now is the important part. Not ancient history.
Deciding it’s time to change the subject, I grab the remote off the couch cushion and click out of my paused episode of Beachfront Bargain Hunters —hey, you never know—and go back to the main menu. “Do you want to watch a movie?” I ask. “You must be getting tired of HGTV by now.”
He glances down at me, his expression telling me he knows exactly what I’m doing. With a smile, he answers, “Sure. A movie sounds good. Although if you want to keep watching HGTV, that’s okay, too. I don’t mind it.”
“Maybe not. But I think after the last few days of binging it, I’m ready for a change. We could watch one of those car movies you like. The ones where the car drives off a bridge and magically lands on a boat. Or leaps from one building to the next.”
Hawk grins. “Hey, those movies are cool.”
“I’m sure they are.” Scrolling down the menu, I start looking for adventure movies. As I’m searching, I go past one of my mom’s older movies—a James Bond-type film where she played the art thief slash villain—and I pause on it, noticing how similar I look to her back then.
“You want to watch one of your mom’s movies?” Hawk’s eyebrows go up in surprise. I’ve always avoided watching her work, mostly because it feels weird to see my mom acting like someone else.
“No.” I click past it. “I was just thinking how similar we look is all. At least how she looked back then.”
“I guess you do. Although.” His eyes soften. “No offense to your mom. But I think you’re much more beautiful.”
Aww.
“How are your parents?” he continues. “You never mention them when we text. Are they doing okay?”
“They’re fine. My mom is kind of dialing back how many movies she does. Same with my dad. Last time I saw them, they were talking about buying a house near Napa and starting a winery.” I laugh. “Kind of random, I know. Neither of them know anything about wine aside from drinking it. But if they want to…”
“Hey, a winery sounds nice. I went to Napa once and it was great. Nice weather, great wine, and the scent of the grapes in the air…”
“True. And I’d have unlimited wine for all my friends. If they decide to do it, you could come with me and we could even make our own wine, I bet. And?—”
Crap. Why am I planning future trips with Hawk when we just started whatever it is we’re doing? A little presumptuous, maybe?
But apparently, Hawk doesn’t think so. “That sounds awesome, Rhi. I’d love to do that. Or just see your parents in L.A., if they don’t move.”
An image fills my head of me and Hawk in California, doing couple-y things like dinners out and trips to the national parks and spending hours at the ocean. I can practically see his muscles gleaming wetly as he emerges from the water, his hair dark and slicked back, his tan even deeper than it is normally…
Desire stirs deep inside me. My core throbs with need. All the spots where Hawk is touching me feel electrified. As I take a steadying breath, the aroma of his soap wraps around me, with hints of citrus and sandalwood and amber.
Oh, my.
All the other times I felt these surges of desire in the past, I ruthlessly tamped them down. But now… I’m giving myself permission to feel them. Permission to not just imagine me and Hawk making love, but to think about it as a real possibility.
Just maybe not now.
As I try to drag my thoughts from naked Hawk and the question of what it would feel like to have him inside me, I ask, “Have you talked to your parents at all? You never mentioned it.”
His jaw tightens, and I immediately regret my question. While my parents don’t love my career choice, we still get along. But I know Hawk doesn’t have a great relationship with his. “Never mind,” I add. “Let’s just find a movie.”
“No, it’s okay.” He gives a little shrug. “Last time I spoke to them was maybe eight months ago. Not that I wanted to talk to them, but I feel obligated to stay in touch, you know?”
“Yeah.”
“When I called, the first thing my father asked was if I was looking for bail money. Can you believe that?”
I suck in a sharp breath. “Are you serious?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Even twenty-plus years later, they still see me as some delinquent. They know I was in the Army, that I hold down a real job, that I haven’t been in trouble since I was fourteen, but it doesn’t seem to matter to them.”
Hawk told me about his years of rebellion against his uber-strict parents, and how he ended up getting arrested at fourteen for breaking into the school. He didn’t damage anything, incredibly scaling the wall to climb in through a second-story window. And his motive wasn’t to steal, but to work out in the school weight room since his parents refused to buy any for him to have at home. Fortunately, he was let off with a warning, but in his parents’ minds, their opinion was set. Hawk was a troublemaker, and they never let him forget it.
My heart hurts for the young Hawk who never could do anything right. And for how scared he must have been back then. How desperate. Thankfully, he got away from his oppressive parents by joining the Army as soon as he turned eighteen, and he found a family there who accepted him just as he was.
I kiss his cheek before saying, “I’m sorry, Hawk. That sucks. I guess I’d hoped things were better.”
His lips come to my head again. “It’s okay. Honestly, their opinion doesn’t matter to me like it used to. I call them twice a year, listen to some veiled or not-so-veiled insults, and then I move on with my life.”
“Still. It sucks. And I’m sorry for bringing it up.”
“Don’t.” Hawk lifts me onto his lap and wraps his arms carefully around me. “You can ask anything. You always could. That hasn’t changed.”
“You can ask me anything, too.”
After a long pause, he says, “There’s something I’ve been thinking about.”
“What is it?”
“I’m sure you’ve been on dates. I mean, I went on some. But it was never serious. I couldn’t, not when you were the only one I wanted. So I guess I’m just wondering?—”
A sharp stab of jealousy hits me as I think about Hawk with other women. But it’s followed by a burst of fizzy pleasure that he never had a girlfriend. That I was the only one he wanted.
“There were a few dates,” I tell him. “Nothing serious. No one came close to you.”
His eyes close for a second. When they reopen, his relief is clear. “It wouldn’t have mattered. Just so you know. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me happy. That we both felt the same way.”
I move so I’m straddling Hawk and hold his gaze. “I did. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy, too.”
“Rhi.” It’s rough with emotion. One hand comes to my nape, the other to the small of my back. “I don’t know how I got this lucky.”
“Lucky?”
“Yes. Lucky. That you’re giving me a chance.”
Those darn tears threaten again. Swallowing hard, I lean forward and brush my lips across his. “My answer would always be yes.”
“Ah, babe.” His mouth covers mine, first just lingering there. Then he teases my lips open and dips inside. He tastes faintly of mint—I noticed him rushing off to the bathroom several times to brush his teeth—and my heart warms to think of him doing it in anticipation of kissing me.
As we kiss, my hunger for him expands. My womb clenches. My nipples pebble into taut peaks.
Kissing Hawk is better than anything .
When we pull away, Hawk gazes at me with nearly-black eyes, his pupils dilated with need and desire. He strokes his thumb across my sensitive lips. There’s a moment when it looks like he’s about to say something important. Something there’s no going back from.
I want to know. But then again, what if it’s not what I’m hoping to hear?
I still love you. I never stopped.
I won’t go back to Alaska when this is all over.
Then he gives his head a little shake. With a gentle smile, he says, “I’ll never get tired of kissing you, Rhi. Ever.”
Well. That’s not too bad, either.
I kiss him again before replying, “I’ll never get tired of it, either.”