And yet, if what Hawk said about the wooden box is correct, my father has perhaps been more affected by my disappearance than his actions dictate. Maybe he is telling the truth, and he thought he was doing what was best. I mean, it definitely wasn’t for the best. There’s no excusing his past behavior, but is it possible that this is him trying to make up for it? I don’t know, and trying to work it out is just giving me a headache.
“Maybe we should go grab lunch and talk?” Hawk suggests, sounding unsure.
“Lunch sounds like a great idea." Barton’s voice holds none of the hesitation or heaviness that Hawk’s did. “There’s a great little Italian place around the corner.”
I quirk a brow at Hawk, who just shrugs, uselessly, and we follow Barton as he leads us to the Italian restaurant.
Once we’ve all ordered and the waiter has taken our menus, I look at Hawk expectantly. Barton doesn’t appear to be in any rush to discuss today’s meeting, but I, for one, need answers. I need to know if we really can trust him.
“Uh, so…” Hawk begins hesitantly, taking a sip of his water. “About today…”
Barton lifts a hand to cut him off. “Don’t worry about it, son. It’s been a long time coming. Honestly, I’d been planning on having the same discussion with her, just…in private. We’re both after different things in life.”
“And, uh, what is it you’re after?” I question, confused.
The way Barton looks at me, it’s as if he can’t believe I even have to ask that question.
“Now that I’ve got you back, I want to get to know you, to spend time with you…” He looks away from me to focus on Hawk. “…with both of you.”
Unsure what to make of his raw honesty, I look at Hawk, and I can see he wants to believe in his father, but he’s just as unsure as I am.
“I know I have made bad decision after bad decision, and nothing I say or do can make up for that, but I’d really like it if we could start fresh and get to know one another.”
I have so many questions, but I guess the answers don’t matter. I probably wouldn’t understand his reasoning for many of the things he did—like pushing me into the tradition at school, or trying to marry me off to Wilder. At the end of the day, if he’s willing to move forward, and doesn’t try to direct our lives any further, I guess, maybe, we can see where this goes.
I can feel Hawk looking at me, and when I meet his gaze, he lifts his brows, silently asking what I think. Honestly, I don’t know. Does part of me want the chance to get to know my father? Yeah, of course, but I’m also so burned by people that I don’t know if I have any more trust left to give.
“You won’t have any say in our lives,” I state, fixing Barton with a serious look. “You won’t dictate what we do, or force our hands on anything. If there is to be any hope of a relationship between us”—I hold up my hand, pointing my finger back and forth between us—“it’s on my terms.”
“I understand. I don’t want to control you, or run your life for you, I just want to be a part of it—in whatever way you’re comfortable with.”
Not sure what else to say, I simply nod and take a drink of my water, needing to quench my dry throat. I’m not entirely sure if I’m making a massive mistake by inviting him in, or opening the door to a relationship I have always craved but never thought I’d have.
***
The rest of the week goes by in a blur of studying, spending time with the guys, Emilia and Wilder, studying, and, did I mention studying? So. Much. Studying. If I never see the inside of a library or have to open another textbook again, I’ll die happy. But exams start in a few days, and to say I’ve been slacking is an understatement.
Unfortunately, with all this studying, we haven’t had a chance to sit down and discuss our next moves regarding Maria. She’s off our backs for now, but apparently the next shareholder meeting is only a week away, and West will have to be there, which will ultimately reveal to Maria that the company is not all hers to do whatever the fuck she wants with.
There has been no more talk of putting the shares into Hawk’s name, and honestly, I don’t know that it would make a difference. We’re all a target, regardless of who has the shares. The only benefit to whoever owns the shares is that Maria isn’t going to kill that person and risk losing the shares altogether. But that doesn’t mean she won’t have any qualms killing the rest of us.
I’m not okay with her hurting any of us, which is why we need a plan in place, because there is no way she isn’t going to be gunning for us when she discovers the truth. Which is why, on Thursday night, even though it’s late and we’re all already exhausted from our busy schedules, I bring up the conversation.
“We need a plan in place before West has to go to this shareholder meeting next week.”
My words are met with exhausted sighs and groans from everyone except Beck, who leans forward in his seat in the living room with a serious expression. He’s been staying here every night since my little breakdown, and either all five of us crash in my bed, or the others start off in their own rooms, but usually at least one of them ends up in bed with Beck and I at some point during the night.
“I agree,” he begins. “I know you’ve all been busy with studying for exams and everything, but we’re running out of time, and there’s no way West is going into that meeting without a plan in place.”
His words have everyone else sitting up straight and paying attention, no one willing to put West’s life at risk.
“Okay, does anyone have any ideas?” Mason asks, looking at each of us.
I have one idea, but I bite my tongue, unwilling to voice it. Killing her is obviously the best way to deal with this, but unless Hawk mentions it, I’m not going to. I won’t be responsible for putting him in that position, of making the decision whether or not his mom lives or dies.
Thankfully, Beck speaks up, “We need to focus on protecting ourselves. I’ve been wracking my brain, and honestly, the only plausible solution I can come up with is to”—he looks at Hawk and grimaces—“kill her.”
Hawk’s lips flatten as he presses them together, and he doesn’t immediately respond to Beck’s words.
After a long moment, he sighs, running his palm over his face. “I don’t know,” he groans. “I just—there must be another option.”
“Are we really those people that resort to killing off their problems?” Cam pipes up with a shrug. “I mean, no offense, man, but your mom is a bitch. She’s as bad as the rest of our parents, but I don’t know how I feel about killing her. I know she’s going to be furious with us, and maybe it’s stupid not to consider it, but I just think if there’s another option, we should take it.”
I squeeze his hand reassuringly as my heart swells. This is why he could never be like his father. He’s too good. Where I—or probably Beck—wouldn’t hesitate to behead that bitch, he wants to be able to walk away from all of this with his soul still intact, and goddamn if that doesn’t make me love him even more.
After a second's hesitation, Beck nods and we swiftly move on as he continues. “Alright, then we need to try and cut her off at the knees; prevent her coming after us.”
“How do we do that?”