Growing up, all I had ever wanted was to leave this town and its outdated ideals behind. It seemed that no matter how hard I had tried, no one ever wanted to see me as anything other than Tom Blackburn’s daughter. The man who had caused the drama that resulted in shutting down the mill. The man who had crippled the Grand Rapids economy for more than a decade.
Of course, no one would dare to blame Craig McQueen, the guy who actually owned the mill and made the decision to close it rather than pay decent wages. Not when his name was on both the high school gymnasium and the newest wing of the hospital. The town practically revered him as a saint when, in reality, he was the reason they were all still so broke they could barely afford to keep the lights on.
Our lives had been one negative interaction with the townspeople after another. At least Jasmine had managed to get out, meeting a bull rider at the rodeo in Bemidji the summer she graduated high school. She hopped in the passenger seat of his truck and hadn’t been back since.
I’d always hoped I’d find my own way out, but considering I was currently in the passenger seat of someone’s truck, the irony was not lost on me.
As Hawk drove the truck back toward my neighborhood, I considered what the last fifteen years had been like, both for me and for Cooper. Her life in this town was just as rough as my own had been, the only difference being that I would never treat her the way my parents had treated me. But the kids at her school sucked just as much now as they had twenty-some years ago.
And just like me, she had found one solid friend to cling to, someone who stood by her when all the other kids were standing against her.
But I was in a better place now than I had been when she was born. I owned a house—thanks to Tori and her hush money, anyway—and I had even managed to get a bit of an education, taking classes for legal administration online in the evenings. I’d improved our lives in every way possible except one.
Taking us out of this toxic environment.
And maybe it was finally time.
As I continued to ponder what kind of equity I might have in the house and how far was far enough from Minnesota, I suddenly noticed that Hawk had finally parked the truck, the headlights shining on the familiar bricks of the high school. Turning off the engine, he sat back, rolling his head against the headrest as he looked at me with tired eyes.
“Come on, Bird,” he said softly. “Let’s go for a walk.”
Meeting me at the front of the vehicle, Hawk took my hand, and I followed as he wandered around the side of the building toward the lake, seeming to know exactly where he was headed. I guessed he would, since this was where he’d found Cooper the night she’d ditched us.
We continued on in silence, neither of us seemingly eager to start what was sure to be an awful conversation in such a pretty place. Finally finding the spot he was looking for, Hawk pulled me over and settled us under a tree, his back to the trunk and me nestled between his thighs as we watched the last of the evening’s sun dip behind the trees across from us.
It was quiet, nothing to disturb us but the sounds of the evening forest, the gentle wind dancing through the leaves of the trees, creating a soothinghush. A pair of ducks passed, gliding along on the glass-like surface of the water, leaving twin ripples in their wake. It was peaceful here, calm and private in a way that I had forgotten about in the years since I’d graduated, and I was glad he’d thought of it.
“Is it always like that, Bird?” he finally asked, his voice low. I could hear the anger still thrumming through his words, and I sighed.
“Yeah.”
Hawk heaved out a heavy sigh, his breath ruffling the hair against the back of my neck, and I could feel his body deflate beneath me. He seemed so damn sad, and I couldn’t really understand it.
“I remember her, you know?”
“You remember Denise? How?”
“From your letter. I remember you saying that she was a bitch to you even way back then.”
I smiled, my chest filling with butterflies at the fact that Hawk had read the very first letter I’d written him all those years ago. Read itandremembered what I’d said. God, we’d been so young back then. I remember being full of fire and teen angst, railing against all the injustices in my world, and finding companionship in music.
Hawk and his lyrics had been a major part of those feelings. Somewhere along the way—likely around the same time my father threw me out for being a pregnant disappointment, bringing him another mouth to feed—I’d lost my ability to be outraged on my own behalf. Everything I did now was for Cooper, and I’d fight tooth and nail to protect her.
Why had I stopped fighting for myself?
“Denise and I have led very different lives, and she was never shy about reminding me about all the ways she thought she was better than I was.” I tried to pass it off as casual, but Hawk was more perceptive than I had hoped. He wrapped his arms around my middle, pulling me tight to his body as he groaned against my neck.
“Bird, that woman could never compare to you. Not in any fuckin’ way that matters.”
Curling one hand around his arm, I hugged him back the only way I could at this angle, but I couldn’t get any words past the growing lump in my throat.
“I could tell the minute she opened her mouth that she was nothing but a bitter, angry shrew. The type of person who does nothing but tear down the people around her.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty accurate.”
“I’ve known a few shrews in my time, Bird.”
I let out a breathy laugh, leaning back and resting my head on his shoulder, content to just watch the last of the sunset, feeling peaceful in a way I couldn’t ever remember feeling before. Being there, with Hawk, it just feltright. I tried to tell myself not to get attached. I knew that once he’d felt he’d met his obligations, he’d leave. Go back to L.A., back to bright lights and fancy places that he was used to, and then it would be calls and gifts, and maybe a visit on the holidays.
