GABE
Skye bends over the open oven, messing with something in a pan inside of it, her beautiful ass swaying slightly in the air. It is way too tempting not to take advantage of her precarious position.
I sneak into the kitchen and smack one cheek hard enough to make her yelp and almost tumble forward into the oven. If I hadn’t wrapped my arm around her waist and held her steady, she might have been face-first in the pan of baked clams.
She scowls back at me. “You dick.”
Storm’s laugh from the other side of the counter fills the space, quickly followed by Antonia tsking.
The matriarch of the Hawke family shakes her head, fighting a smile despite her reproachful look. “Will you two cut it out?”
I press a kiss to the back of Skye’s neck as she rights herself, then walk over and wrap my arm around Antonia, squeezing her against me. “You want one, too, Nana?”
She elbows me playfully in the ribs. “I’m too old for you.”
I kiss her on the cheek. “You? Never.”
The woman who brought me into this family, who always accepted me as one of her own, from day one, rolls her eyes. “What are you doing in here, anyway?”
“I just came to harass Skye.” I lift my empty bottle. “And to get another beer.”
Skye closes the oven with her hip and tosses a pair of tongs onto the counter, then leans back against it, crossing her arms over her chest. That same look she’s always given me—even back when she was a child and I was just Savage’s best friend—overtakes her face. Her lips twist into a frown.
I raise my brows innocently. “What did I do?”
She taps her toe. “You know what you did?”
“What?”
One of her hands flies out toward the oven. “You almost knocked me into the damn stove.”
I walk over and press her back against the counter, dropping a kiss to her lips. “Almost being the key word here. I saved you.”
She barks out a laugh and shoves at my chest. “Saved me. Yeah. Yeah. Right.”
“Your life would be so boring without me, woman.”
One of her dark brows rises in challenge. “Maybe I like boring.”
Storm laughs from where she works on a pan of baked ziti. “Since when?”
Skye’s eyes cut over to her sister then back to me. “Since the twins turned thirteen. They’ve been hellions, especially Atlas. I swear to God, that kid goes looking for fights. I could use some boring.”
Nana glances over her shoulder, where she’s working on assembling the lasagna. “I told you two, you never should have brought him to that boxing gym.”
Oh, no. Here we go again.
“Ma”—I turn back to her—”he has a talent for it. We all saw it at a young age with him. I know you don’t like boxing…”
She stiffens slightly, then returns her attention to the task at hand. “Boxing took Sam from me.”
A moment of heavy silence hangs in the kitchen, and Storm walks over to her and wraps an arm around her mother’s shoulders. “A freak accident in the ring took Dad from you. It’s not going to happen again.”
Antonia shakes her head. “You can’t promise me that Atlas won’t get hurt if he sticks with this.”
Skye walks over and joins them, rubbing her mom’s back. “No, we can’t. But as we all know, there are other dangerous things in this world besides the boxing ring. We can’t protect them from everything.”
No one needs to specify what she’s talking about.
I lean back against the counter and watch the Hawke women huddled together. Even after all these years, I can still feel the palpable pain of losing Star in the accident that almost took Savage from us, too. And even though Storm has found happiness again with Landon, the loss of Ben continues to tear at her and always will.
The agony we all suffered and the changes that happened to the entire family because of those events will reverberate through all of us forever.
It makes guilt at her worry over Atlas claw at my chest. As a father, I always worry about my kids, but I also know my son well enough to understand he won’t stop, even if we try to make him. He’s a born fighter, who definitely inherited that from the grandfather he never even met. Ignoring his natural ability would be trying to suppress a part of him. The ring calls to him in a way we can’t brush aside.
I rub at my nape, trying to release some of the tension suddenly there. “I’m making sure he’s careful, Ma. Savage and I are working with him, sometimes Stone, and you know he has a great coach.”
The same man who once coached his grandfather…
Antonia glances over her shoulder at me but doesn’t say anything. She just returns to her work as the girls move away from her.
No one wants to ruin a holiday with this dark, heavy talk, which is why we’ve kept the full truth of what happened to Jude from the matriarch of the Hawke family. If she knew the depths of the depravity he’s had to suffer during the mere ten years of his life, she wouldn’t be able to keep it off her face when she meets him.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I glance at it—a text from Savage, who’s just in the other room and could have come in here and spoken with me easily, which means it’s something he doesn’t want to say out loud.
SAVAGE
I push off the counter and grab a beer from the refrigerator, then pop off the cap and take a long, cool pull from it. Skye watches me carefully, and I incline my head to indicate that she should follow me out of the kitchen.
Her eyes widen slightly, and she glances at her mom and Storm before she wipes her hands on a towel and follows me into the dining room, where Caroline, Nora, and Dani work on resetting the table.
I drag her into the corner and wrap my arms around her the best I can with the beer bottle in my hand.
“What?” She looks up at me.
“You’re not really mad, are you?”
She shoves at my chest playfully. “Of course not. What’s going on?”
“Luca and Byron are on their way with Jude…” For a split second, I consider not telling her about what Luca did until later, but everyone’s been twisted up about this poor kid. She’ll want to know what happened as soon as possible. “And the father is no longer a problem.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “Okay, good. I mean, that’s good.”
I nod. “It is.”
“Do you think we should warn the kids?”
I shake my head. “No. If we make a big deal about Jude coming today, they might overwhelm Jude with questions he can’t answer. I think it’s better if we make it not a big thing. Just allow them to show up and say he’s staying with Luca and Byron for now. Try to get the kids to play with him without turning it into a circus.” I shrug. “I don’t really know.”
She nods slowly. “I think it’s probably a good idea. You’re right.”
Grinning at her, I press a kiss on her forehead and squeeze her to me. “My two favorite words.”
Skye playfully pinches my ribs. “Ha-fucking-ha!”
Storm sticks her head into the dining room, her dark brows raised. “Skye, you coming back to help?”
Dani raises a hand. “I can help.”
Everyone turns toward her. “No,” the chorus goes up, and Dani’s jaw drops.
She props her hands on her hips looking incredulous. “Come on. There has to be something I can help with besides setting the goddamn table.”
Storm shakes her head. “Stick with what you’re good at.”
Dani scowls, but everybody laughs it off like we do every holiday when she tries to make her way back into the kitchen, where she absolutely does not belong.
Nora walks over and bumps her sister’s hip with her own. “Don’t look so put out. You’re very good at a lot of things. Cooking just isn’t one of them.”
Landon approaches Storm and whispers something in her ear that has her jerking back with wide eyes—likely the same thing I revealed to Skye.
Skye starts to pull out of my arms to follow her sister back into the kitchen, but I tug her up against me and lower my mouth to her ear. “When we get home, you’re going to bake some of my favorite cookies, right? Seeing you bent over that oven got me thinking about our first time together.”
My cock grows between us, and she giggles and rubs against it. “Atlas and Astrid will be home tonight…”
I pull back and scowl. “Maybe we can arrange another sleepover for them at someone else’s house.”
Skye laughs and pushes away from me, leaving me to adjust my semi so it isn’t obvious. I wander back out into the living room and over to where Savage talks with Saint, Landon, and Stone.
I stop next to my best friend. “So, they’re on their way?”
Savage nods.
“Everyone knows now?”
Landon’s blond head bobs. “I told Storm.”
Saint nods. “I told Caroline.”
Stone inclines his head toward the dining room. “I told Nora.”
I look between all of them. “And we are all in agreement that we don’t say anything to the kids?”
Savage rubs a hand across his stubbled jaw. “That’s right.”
Angelina pops her head into our little huddle, her blue gaze darting to Savage. “What aren’t you telling us?”
Shit.
I gently try to nudge her back. “Don’t worry about it.”
She scowls slightly. “You know, I’m twenty-two. I’m not a kid anymore.”
Landon wraps his arm around his stepdaughter and tugs her up against him, pressing a kiss the top of her head. “You’ll always be a kid, even when you’re forty.”
She looks up at him and gives him a saccharine sweet smile. “As if you’ll be alive that long to see it, old man.”
He feigns offense, pressing his hand over his chest. “Ouch. That one hurt.”
She playfully elbows him, then walks away, probably to find something to entertain herself with that isn’t one of the board games meant for her younger sister and cousins.
Angie is right; she isn’t a kid anymore. She won’t even let anyone call her “Angel” like we used to when she was a child. She’s a young adult, and she probably should be brought in on what’s happening, but I don’t want to ruin her Christmas with the reality of what Jude suffered.
I stare out the window at all the lights in the yard and the fake Santa and reindeer on the lawn. Despite the warmth of the house and laughter and Christmas music filling it, a chill rolls down my spine and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.
It’s one of my feelings again, and I hate it.
It usually means something bad is coming, but this should be a joyous day, not one full of trepidation and worry.
I just need to shake it off and get in the spirit.
* * *
SKYE
Mom gives me a look as I return to the kitchen. “What’s everyone whispering about?”
Shit.
I wince and cut my gaze to Storm, who gives me a look that tells me she knows, too, and plans to keep her mouth shut. “Nothing, Mom. Just that Byron and Luca will be here soon with Jude.”
Not a complete lie.
That’s usually the key to getting one by Antonia Hawke—keep a little bit of the truth in there.
Mom nods, eyeing me suspiciously, as I pull out the seasoned ricotta to start making the stuffed shells. Storm comes over to help, giving me another look that screams, I hope she doesn’t push this.
Our mother is far too perceptive for her own good sometimes. It’s useless to try to keep things from her—same with Savage. Definitely an inherited trait.
Mom moves to the oven and slides in the lasagna, then turns back to me, crossing her arms over the “Kiss the Chef” apron Savage gave her for her birthday last year. “That’s what Gabe had to pull you out of the kitchen to tell you?”
Too damn observant.
After raising five kids—six, if you count Gabe—she can see through pretty much all of us, and everyone has been off today.
Storm forces a smile and glances back at her. “It’s nothing, Mom. Really. We’re just excited to get everyone here to have dinner.”
Again, not a lie.
We’re all waiting for Byron and Luca on pins and needles.
I keep stuffing, avoiding looking at Mom so she won’t be able to see my clear redirection of the conversation. “I grabbed a few things I had bought for the boys and wrapped them for Jude”—I cast a quick peek over my shoulder at Mom—”so he’d have something to open when he got here.”
Mom’s hard gaze softens. “That was very thoughtful of you. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. You say he doesn’t have any family, right?”
I bite my lip to keep from vomiting the truth.
Storm nods. “That’s my understanding, and it appears he’s going to stay with Luca and Byron, at least for a while.”
It’s another truth, just not all of it, and I can tell Mom wants to dig and ask more, but she doesn’t, probably to avoid an argument on Christmas Day. There will be plenty of them, but she tries not to be the instigator.
She’ll keep trying to pry it out of us, though, and eventually, someone will cave. It’s inevitable where “Nana” is concerned.
She scans the kitchen as if it isn’t the place she’s most at home. “What else do we have left to do?”
I motion toward the stuffed shells. “Once these are done and in the oven, it should just be the salads, the garlic bread, and the pies.”
Storm grabs the spoon from my hand. “I’ll finish these. Why don’t you go check on the kids and make sure they’re not killing each other?”
Thank God.
Big sister saving me with an excuse to get out of here for a bit before I say something I shouldn’t.
Mom leans to glance into the living room. “Can’t the guys do that?”
I freeze.
Storm snorts. “They’re busy doing whatever it is they do in the living room—mostly drink and grunt, I think.”
Wiping off my hands on a kitchen towel, I wave off Mom. “It’s all right. I’ll check on them and be right back.”
Mom gives me another look, but she doesn’t object as I slip out of the kitchen and make my way toward the sliding glass door that leads out onto the patio in the backyard, near the pool, where the kids tend to gather.
Kennedy, Bishop, Atlas, Astrid, Angelina, and Coen sit around the table, playing what appears to be poker. I point a finger at all of them. “You better hope Nana doesn’t find you guys betting back here, especially with him sitting at the table.” I point at Coen. “Why don’t you go find Pope, Isaac, and Allie?”
Coen scowls and crosses his arms over his chest. Twelve going on thirty. He always wants to be with the older kids, even when we try to push him toward Pope and Allie. “I want to play.”
Somehow, allowing them to teach him to gamble doesn’t sound like something Stone and Nora would appreciate, not to mention Mom. “Well, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He huffs again. “Then, I’m going to watch.”
Angie walks over and leans toward me so no one else can hear. “I’ll keep an eye on him. If things get too out of control, I’ll send him in.”
Even though Bishop and the twins aren’t that much older than Coen, their maturity level means I have far less concern for them than him. Knowing Ang will be monitoring the situation makes it a little easier to walk away. “Good. Thank you.”
She raises a brow at me. “You want to tell me what’s been going on? All the hush-hush whispering?”
I narrow my eyes on her. “Not particularly.”
Angie scowls. “When are you guys going to stop treating me like a child?”
“Nobody treats you like a child.”
She rolls her eyes. “Bullshit.”
Coen’s eyes widen.
I give her a chastising look. “Watch your mouth around him.”
“Oh, yeah…” Angelina laughs. “Like any of you do.”
“True.” We all have a bad habit of speaking without filters around the kids, especially the older ones. “But still, we rely on you to take care of all the little ones, right?”
Her lips twist. “Yes.”
“Would we do that if we thought of you as one of them? I know it’s hard being the oldest and a full six years older than even Kennedy, but we appreciate you keeping an eye on them so we can handle other things, things you don’t need to worry about.”
Like the trauma the boy who will soon be joining the festivities has suffered.
She accepts the answer reluctantly, then grabs a chair next to Coen and whispers something to him that has him nodding. “Coen and I are going to play as a team. Okay?”
Atlas looks like he’s about to argue, but I cut a glare at him that silences him on the spot. It’s better to just let Coen play than to deal with him being crabby the rest of the day.
“All right, anybody need anything? Some snacks?”
A chorus of “yes” goes up, and I hustle back into the kitchen. “The kids are hungry. We have another, what, two hours before dinner’s ready?”
Mom glances at the timer on the oven. “I’d say about that.”
“I’m going to throw some chips into a bowl and toss it out there. Apparently Isaac, Pope, and Allie are off together somewhere. No fists flying, as far as I can tell.”
But around here, that can quickly change.
This many people under one roof means there is always some sort of disagreement. Typically, they’re good-natured and easily assuaged, but everyone, once in a while, someone has to step in to mediate. I’d love to avoid that today with all the other stressors floating around.
I find a bag of chips, empty it into a bowl, and bring it out to the kids.
At least for the moment, everyone seems content and happy, the kind of relaxed Christmas Day we can enjoy. Instead of heading back into the kitchen, I make my way down the hallway and pop my head into a couple of bedrooms until I find Isaac, Pope, and Allie in Savage’s old room, sprawled out on the bed. “What are you guys doing?”
Isaac glances up at me, then Pope and Allie follow suit. “Just playing some of the games we all got.”
Allie holds up a deck of cards. “I want to do Uno, but they want to play Trouble.”
“Well, I think you guys have plenty of time to play everything before we eat.” I narrow my eyes on the boys. “Right, boys?”
I focus most of my glare on Isaac. At his age, he should be able to prevent any arguments and be diplomatic about keeping the peace between the younger ones.
“Well, if you guys are hungry, I just put some chips outside with everyone else.”
Isaac waves me off. “We’re good.”
They turn back to their game, ignoring me, and I pull the door halfway shut and make my way out to the living room, where the guys all cluster near the tree. The music pipes through the speakers, light and cheerful, not exactly matching the mood it’s supposed to help create.
Gabe stares out the window, his shoulders tense.
I slip up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my face against his shoulder blades. “Don’t look so worried.”
He glances back at me. “I’m trying not to.”
“Really, everything’s going to be fine.”
We’re all nervous about what will happen with the new arrival, who will be walking through the door soon, but worrying about it won’t do anyone any good. Gabe has always gotten too far in his own head, and even after years of therapy, there are still times when he falls down dark holes that I desperately try to pull him out of.
“I know, but it’s my responsibility to make sure everyone stays safe, and right now, things just feel”—he shrugs slightly—”a little off.”
I squeeze him tightly. “I know how you get when you have one of these feelings, but you have to let it go, or you’re going to ruin Christmas.”
He grins at me. “I’m not going to ruin Christmas.”
“Promise?”
He turns in my arms and takes my face in his palms, tilting it up to him. “I’ll tell you what, I won’t ruin Christmas as long as you figure out a way to get the kids to someone else’s house tonight. Then you can bake for me like we talked about earlier”—he leans in and feathers his lips across mine—”preferably in the nude.”
I smack his arm. “That sounds like burns in painful places just waiting to happen.”
“I’ll keep you safe, Skye.” He grips my chin. “I always do.”
The laugh bubbles from my lips before I can stop it. “Always?” I raise a brow. “I seem to remember rescuing you and saving your life when you were bleeding and almost dead in that godforsaken cabin in the bayou…”
He scowls at me. “And you will never let me live that down for the rest of my life, will you?”
I smile. “Of course, I won’t. What fun would that be?”