He approaches me, chewing on his bottom lip before holding it out for me to take, but I don’t immediately move to accept whatever it is, instead eyeing him and the box critically, as though he’s trying to hand over some sort of explosive device—I mean, he could be.
He licks his lips nervously. “I-I know I’ve let you down, and you have every reason to not trust me, but hopefully this box will help you understand. Just because you weren’t around, didn’t mean I didn’t think about you every day.”
I still hesitate, even as he pushes the unassuming box closer to me, and with unsure hands, I take it from him, seeing the relief in his features when I do. I just stand and stare at the box, not wanting to open it, but my mind whirs with the possibilities of what's inside. Whatever it contains though isn’t enough to offset everything that’s happened. Pretty words and a box don’t make up for the fact Barton didn’t try harder to find me; for the fact that he gave up on me.
I feel the heat of Hawk’s palm on my lower back, grounding me and, with a tight smile, I turn my back on Barton and walk out of the house.
My eyes are glued to the box as I settle myself in the car and Hawk climbs in behind the driver's seat. He doesn’t start the engine, and after a while, I glance up at him, finding him looking at the box as well, with a small frown and lines furrowing his forehead.
I sigh and shake my head, trying to clear it of my jumbled thoughts. “It doesn’t matter what’s in here,” I say aloud, more for my own benefit than anything else. “It doesn’t change anything.”
Hawk nods his head slowly, but there’s still a thoughtful expression on his face. “I remember seeing that box before…”
“You know what’s inside it?”
He shakes his head. “No, he would snap it shut as soon as I entered the room. When I asked him about it, he told me it was a special box, where he kept his happiest memories.”
My gaze falls back down to the box perched on my knee, and an overwhelming need to know what it contains overtakes me. With sweaty fingers, I flick up the latch and slowly open the lid, peering cautiously inside. I feel Hawk lean over the center console to get a better look, and as the lid drops back, we both take in the various items inside.
There’s a small pair of pink baby shoes, no bigger than the length of my finger, and I can feel a lump forming in my throat, and my eyes burn as I stare at them. Blinking away the building tears, I look over the other items, noticing a collection of photos, a small, yellow baby blanket, and two knitted hats—one pink and one blue—that are so small, they must have been made for newborns. Noticing something wedged at the back of the box, I reach out and lift out a small book.
My eyes skim over the front cover. Baby’s Firsts. Opening it up to a random page, I read, Baby’s first steps. Scrawled underneath, in barely legible handwriting that can only belong to a man, is the date I took my first steps. Flipping to another page, the date I got my first tooth is recorded, and the same on the page for my first word. I flip through the pages until I get near the end, noticing the last few pages have been left blank. I’m guessing I hadn’t achieved those milestones before I was kidnapped.
Unsure what to make of all of this, I glance at Hawk, but his face is expressionless as his eyes roam over the box’s contents. He leans in and lifts out the stack of photos, slowly flicking through each of them. There’s some of just me, and others of the two of us together, but there are also photos of Barton, Hawk, and I, out on day trips to the beach, or at a fair, or even just playing in the back garden.
“What do you make of all of this?” I ask, my voice a soft whisper.
“I don’t know.” There’s an unusual gruffness to Hawk’s voice, giving away the maelstrom of emotions that are affecting him, the same way they’re affecting me. Careful to put all of the items back in their rightful places, I close the lid and we start down the drive, making the journey back to campus in silence.
Chapter 14
My mind whirs all night when we get back to campus, and I’m second guessing our plan to threaten Maria. The problem is, my brain is too sluggish to think straight. I’m just about getting through the day—with the lack of sleep I’m running on—never mind adding all this extra stress with our parents.
With all this talk of Nocturnal Mercenaries and rebuilding of the compound, I’m waking up even more frequently during the night. I don’t know what else I can do to try and abate the demons nipping at my heels. I already run myself ragged every night and beat the shit out of the bag in the gym every morning, and still Lawrence’s voice haunts me from the grave, and nightmares of the compound wake me at night.
The next morning, I’m attempting to kickstart my brain into action with my third cup of coffee when Hawk stomps in, looking barely alive having just woken up, and already pissed off at the world.
He bangs around in the kitchen, making himself a cup of tea with absolutely zero fucking grace.
“What now?” I moan, not ready to deal with any more shit, but clearly something has him in a pissy mood.
Looking at me over the rim of his now full coffee mug, he frowns. “We’ve been called to a meeting with our parents tonight.”
Fucking. Great.
That text was the first indicator of what a shitty day it was going to be. I should have realized it then, called it quits, and gone back to bed. But foolishly, I didn’t. So, when things go from bad to worse at lunch, I lose absolutely all fucking patience.
I’m spending some quality time with Emilia and Wilder, listening to her talk us through her very intense study schedule for the upcoming end of year exams that, honestly, has me freaking the fuck out on the inside. Every minute of her day is planned out, with ninety-nine percent of it dedicated to classes or studying.
I, on the other hand, haven’t given a single thought to our exams, or the importance of passing them.
“I’m hoping that with four hours sleep a night and only fifteen-minute breaks for meals, I’ll be able to fit everything in that I need to,” she says, sounding panicked as she chews on her bottom lip, frowning at the little laminate cut-out of her study schedule. “Maybe I should—”
Wilder plucks the schedule out of her hand and looks it over. “I don’t see any time to have fun,” he remarks, looking more and more disgusted the longer he looks at it.
Scowling at him, Emilia snatches it back. “Not every minute of the day is about enjoying yourself,” she snaps. “Just because you like to flit from minute to minute with no plan or purpose doesn’t mean that’s how the rest of us like to live.”
Wilder’s brows climb up his head and he lifts his hands in surrender. “I just think you need to reward yourself every now and again to help keep you motivated.”
Emilia stares at him for a second, before frowning and looking at her schedule thoughtfully. “I guess I could—”
“Hey, babe.” Deke steps up to our table, his gaze running over Emilia in a disgustingly sleazy way that immediately has my hackles up.