Sweet Ache

Chapter 35

HAWKIN

Relief sifts through my body like an hourglass, slowly filling me with the knowledge that this whole bullshit charade is over and done. I’ve fulfilled my last promise to Hunter and now he can sink or swim on his own.

Hell yes, I love him, will help him if he asks for it, with limitations, but my days of being his father are over.

When I glance over my shoulder to where Vince sits a few rows back, there’s a smile of relief on his face. He showed up even when I told him not to. Like I always say, the guy would go to bat for me in a football game if I asked him to. I lift my chin toward him as Ben nudges me to turn back around and not piss off the judge, who is finishing his parting words.

The judge knocks his gavel, locks eyes with me, and gives me a stern warning nod. I nod in kind, letting him know I understand his message, that this will be my only reprieve from getting time, before he rises and walks into his chambers.

The minute his door closes, I slump in my chair and the courtroom becomes a flurry of activity. Reporters rush out of the room so that they can call in the verdict to their boss, which will most likely squash the story because it’s nothing as exciting as a conviction would have been.

“Thank fuck,” I say in an exhale of breath, my head resting on the back of the chair as I throw a silent thank-you out to the universe for letting me catch a break.

“Gotta earn those big bucks you pay me somehow, now, don’t I?” Ben says, throwing my comment back in my face from what feels like forever ago.

I sit up and stick my hand out to him—and it’s such a formality after everything we’ve been through over the years, but I need him to know how much I appreciate his guidance and expertise through the whole ordeal. He glances down at my outstretched hand and just grins, knowing this is the only admission I’ll give that he knows what he’s doing and is good at his job. He shakes my hand and squeezes it a little too tight, before reaching out and patting me on the back.

“Thanks, Benji. I owe you one.”

“I’d say anytime but if you lie for your brother again,” he says, daring me to tell him that I wasn’t covering for him, “I love you enough to tell you that I won’t defend you. I told him the same thing right before I came in here as well.”

“Told him what? That you won’t defend me or him?” I ask off the cuff, so distracted by the chaos of emotions swirling around in my body that it takes me a second to hear what he has said. “Whoa, wait. You called Hunter just to tell him that?” I can’t believe that with his complete disdain for my brother he even took the time to seek him out.

“First question, I won’t defend either of you,” he says with an arch of his brow as he starts stuffing papers into his briefcase. “Second, I ran into Hunt when I went to the bathroom before we started. It piss—”

“He was here?” What did he get, a change of heart, a conscience, or what? Because he sure as hell didn’t have the guts to walk in here and watch me take the heat for him. Anger lights up within as it all hits me: my stupidity, the risks I took, being used … all of them simply solidifying how I already feel.

“Yeah. He was in the hallway right before I came in. We got into it. I told him this wasn’t you taking the rap for him for hitting a parked car like you did in high school. Let him know he was a piece of shit for using guilt that’s not yours to hold you responsible for his mistakes.”

I meet the blue eyes of one my oldest friends and realize how damn lucky I am that despite my preoccupation with taking care of my brother over the years, I have all of these incredible people watching my back. Then it hits me how agitated Ben was when he first sat down, and now I know why. It was because Hunter was here.

“Dude, you’re family … but I told him he wasn’t allowed in this courtroom. As much confidence I had with how well your seminar went, it was still a crapshoot, and the last thing I wanted was to give him a chance to gloat while you took the fall for him if it went to hell.”

I nod my head, the merry-go-round of emotions inside me on full throttle right now. One of the many burdens that’s weighed me down has been lifted permanently and fuck if it doesn’t feel good. Between Hunter and the promises to my dad and shaking this conviction, I feel so relieved. It’s like I’m floating on air. And with Quin wanting to talk, shit, I might just grow wings and fly soon.

“Man, let’s get the hell out of here,” Vince says from behind me, interrupting our conversation the same time I feel his hand patting me solidly on the back.

“You don’t have to ask me twice!” I tell him, ready to shed this stiff shirt and don one of my tees that’s sitting folded on the front seat of my car. Then it dawns on me, breaks through the fog of relief, that Quinlan texted me and wants to talk. Can my day get any better? “Dude, did you talk to Quin? What did she say?”

I see the shock flicker across Vince’s face before he narrows his eyes and shakes his head like he’s confused. “How’d you know?”

What? “How’d I know what?” Now I’m confused. What in the hell is he talking about?

“How’d you know I talked to her earlier?”

I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone all of a sudden, like we’re talking about two different things. “Because I told … uh …” I look over to Ben for the name of his aide.

“Steph,” he fills in for me and I can tell his interest is piqued, his eyes darting over his shoulder where she is speaking to an associate.

“Yeah, Steph. I had her give you my phone. Quin texted me. I wanted you to call her. So what did she say?” My sentences are short and clipped and I don’t care that I’m kind of being an ass because I don’t want to play games right now. I just want to walk the fuck out of the courtroom, which I don’t ever care to see the inside of again, and go find Quin so that we can move forward somehow after my monstrous fuckup.

When he just continues to stand there and look at me like I’m crazy, I hold out my hand. All patience is lost. “Fuck it. Just give me my phone.” I can tell Vince is getting irritated with me talking to him like he’s a dumbshit, but if he doesn’t want to be treated like one, he shouldn’t act like one.

“I don’t have your phone, Play. I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

Unease begins to settle in the far reaches of my mind, and I’m brimming with frustration when Ben beckons Steph over. I can see the worry flicker over her expression as she approaches the three of us, who are focused solely on her.

“Yes?” I can hear the trepidation in her voice, the fear that she’s done something wrong in her new job.

“Hawke’s phone? Where is it?” Ben asks, tone stern.

Her eyes shift to mine and then back to Ben’s. “I don’t have it. I gave it to his brother in the hallway—”

“Oh fuck!” It’s the only word that can express the dread that explodes through me right now. That and the mix of adrenaline as I’m rushing out of the courtroom like a man on a mission the minute everything registers: the possibilities, my fears, my brother’s anger, his never-ending need to sabotage my life.

The problem is I’ve pushed him to the brink, cut off funding when I never have before, and so I fear just how he’ll lash out this time.

I push through the crowd of reporters, not stopping, not worrying what an ass they are going to make me out to be in their reports. That’s the least of my worries. They trail after me, shouting my name, hoping for the big scoop as I head toward the parking garage. I don’t have to look to know Vince is right beside me. He always is.

It’s what’s waiting for me at Quinlan’s house that worries me the most.