Every Mile a Memory

Chapter 21

I was going to wait, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t. I tried, but I couldn’t.

I don’t recall the drive—the traffic lights or the other cars. I don’t recall even leaving the townhome. I just needed to be with him, and I needed it to be soon. I couldn’t wait.

The first thing that was a little in focus was the receptionist at the studio. I remembered him from the first and only time I had been there before. It was on the very first day I had been in Nashville. He didn’t seem to recall me, though. So I explained who I was and who I was there to see. Just my word, of course, was not going to let me get through the barrier doors when a national recording artist was somewhere behind them. I wondered how many Finnatics had already tried that move.

Since I didn’t have my credentials with me, I said, “I’m just going to text him. He’ll—”

“If he’s in the studio, he won’t have his phone on.”

“He’s not the one recording,” I tried.

“Stand over there and do it.” He acted like it was Fort Knox, but I did what I was told and stood near the doorway.

I’m in the lobby. Mr. Mall Cop won’t let me thru. I sent the text to Hawk and twiddled my thumbs and feet. If it took much longer, I was going to make a break for it and rush the doors. Now that I was that close, I needed him that much more.

Just as I was ready to put my plan in action, Hawk, accompanied by Finn, came through the interior doors and into the lobby where I was standing. “Hey.” Hawk stopped his chat with Finn and acknowledged me.

When I looked at the receptionist-guard to make sure I could actually approach the men, he spoke. “Mr. Murphy, she didn’t have any—”

“She’s with us.” Hawk put a kibosh to any question. “What’s up?” That time his comment was directed to me. I’m sure he was more than a little curious as to my sudden, unexpected arrival.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” I said. “I know you’re working. I’m sorry, Finn.”

“It’s fine,” the crooner replied. “We just broke for a couple minutes. The sound guys are tweaking some things.”

He spoke of his latest single that he was in the studio to record—one I knew nothing about because he wasn’t ready for any type of promotion yet. Even Hawk was a little secretive about it. I wondered why he was even part of the recording process. But that wasn’t my concern right then. There were far greater issues.

“Mai?” The way he said my name, I could tell Hawk was starting to understand that my impromptu visit wasn’t an “in the neighborhood” social call. “Maya, what’s wrong?”

“Is there somewhere we can go?” I side-eyeballed the receptionist, who was busy trying to look busy. “I need to talk with you alone.”

“Uh…yeah.” Hawk narrowed his eyes at me.

“Finn, is that okay? It won’t take long.”

“Yeah, Maya, of course.” He nodded his head toward Hawk. “The conference room.”

“Thanks,” I said, as Hawk took my hand and the three of us finally headed through those doors, into the hallway, and then into the room where I had originally signed all those papers to become an official member of Team Murphy.

After Finn shut the door, giving Hawk and me privacy, I leaned right in to my sturdy man’s torso. While there was still chaos reverberating through my skull, the feel of his arms around me settled it ever so slightly. His face was the first thing that was truly in focus that afternoon.

He, however, was starting to emulate my demeanor. “What’s going on?” He pulled me from him so we were at least able to look at one another.

“I’m sorry I interrupted. I just needed you. I probably could have waited—”

“Maya!” he exclaimed, exasperated.

“Hawk…” I let loose a big breath, closed my eyes, and then, still trying to wrap my head around what I was going to say, slowly lifted my eyes to him. “He wants to see me.”

“Who?”

I took another deep breath. Did my face look as ghostly as I felt? “The asshole who killed Jeff.”

“What? Why? Maya, what are you talking about? What?” His repertoire of words sounded so similar to the ones I had used earlier, during the unexpected phone call from Maryland. “See you in person? At the prison?”

I was hearing it again that time from his mouth, and it didn’t sound any better. In fact, repeating it made it seem even, somehow, more real. “Hawk….” I agonized.

“Okay.” He recognized my need for a break and brought me back to his chest.

I knew, with due cause, that I was tense, but I could feel it in him then, too. After a moment, he took his hands in mine and guided me to sit in one of the many red-cushioned executive chairs. He followed suit, sitting in the one next to me and wheeling his so it was right up against mine…our knees touching, our hands holding.

“Tell me. Tell me what’s going on.”

I was able to get it out that time, although it certainly wasn’t eloquent, coming out in choppy spurts. “He’s supposedly dying…only months or so to live. So he wants to get everything off his chest. He’s…” I knew Hawk was going to be upset when I revealed the next tidbit, but I had to. “He’s been messaging me through the blog for a little while.”

“What!” Yep, his reaction was pretty much as I’d predicted.

I nodded affirmatively as he dropped his hands. “Yeah. I’ve been deleting them.”

“Is he even allowed to do that?”

“It was through someone else. I think a family member.”

“What did the messages say?” Fury creased his forehead.

“Just that he wants to see me,” I repeated plainly.

“How had I not seen that?” I managed a slight smile, appreciating that Hawk still continued to take the time to read every one of my blogs.

“I monitor it pretty close, babe. I deleted them. I didn’t want anything to do with it personally, and it has nothing to do with my job. I was hoping it would go away, but now the warden just called with a more formal request. That was when I found out he is dying.”

“But you’re not considering it, are you? There’s no way. He killed your husband.”

“I know,” I said, probably louder than I should have.

The stress of the request and hiding the initial correspondence was getting to me. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Hawk. The truth was, I wanted to pretend it wasn’t real. I wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening. The magic delete button had helped…until that phone call.

“I know.” I spoke a tad bit softer but almost immediately revved back up again. “In cold blood. He was high and had nothing else better to do than shoot down a cop. No. No, I don’t want to. But—”

“But? But what?” He tilted his head even closer to mine, his hazel eyes boring in to me.

“There is a part of me—” The stillness and simplicity of the words chilled me to the core.

“Wh—?”

“The warden said he wants to sit down with me and explain before he dies. He’s found God. He’s remorseful,” I continued.

“You don’t believe that, do you?”

My response was immediate and blunt. “No. I don’t.”

“I don’t want you going through something like that. You don’t owe him anything.” He pierced those damn mesmerizing eyes at me. “Anything,” he reiterated. “Don’t even dignify the request with a response.”

“But maybe…” I said slowly because everything was a mumbled “maybe” in my manic brain. “Maybe I should, you know, go. If anything, it would be the last time I would ever have to hear or see him again. Let him talk, and I could let him know what pain I’ve gone through.”

“Maya, he doesn’t care. He’s using you to clear his own conscience. You’re only going to get hurt all over again.” He placed his large hands on my knees. “He could never say anything that would make it all right.”

“I don’t know.” My mind was such a muddled mess.

“Ignore it. And pull the blog for a while. Take it down. Don’t write. He won’t have an outlet to contact you. I’ll talk with Finn for you. I’ll—”

“No.” I got up from my chair. “First of all, I can talk with Finn about my job all by myself, if I need to.”

“Ah, Maya, don’t go there.” He stood up to meet me, surely catching the fact that I was referring to the time in summer when he’d tried to defend my job to Finn.

I ignored the comment. “No, I’m not giving up blogging. And I don’t know… I think seeing him might—”

“Maya, you don’t want me to put myself in danger going away for a fun weekend, for God’s sake, and yet here you are walking right into—” There was no denying it—he was clearly upset.

“He’s in prison. Besides, he can’t hurt me any more than he already has.” Truth.

“No. No. You can’t do this.”

I hadn’t made up my mind. I had actually been far from it. But the direct dictation from Hawk irked me.

“I just wanted to talk to someone. I needed someone to listen—for you to just listen, not yell at me.” Already an emotional mess and not needing any more, I pivoted on my foot, walked to the door, and turned the knob.

“I’m not,” he said, but the volume in his voice said otherwise. “Maya…shit. C’mon….”

“I shouldn’t have interrupted your job.” I realized I had done exactly what I asked him not to do, even though I knew he didn’t care if I did. “I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No,” I said, adamantly. “I need my alone time. Let me be.”

“Mai…”

But I didn’t give him any more opportunity. I strolled silently past Finn in the hall and then by the paunchy guard at the desk. And then I made my way out to the gray, foreboding skies of the late Tennessee afternoon.

***

I think the stress of the whole situation must have exhausted me. Or maybe I just couldn’t handle thinking for one more minute about the decision I had to make or the fact that Hawk and I had argued. I pulled the comforter off the bed, dragged it to the living room sofa, and curled myself deeply under its warmth and support.

When I woke, it was to a virtual botanical garden. Resting on the floor in front of me, there was literally a barrel full of flowers in all types and color variations. I rubbed my eyes and looked across the room to where the obvious flower-giver was located. Sitting in one of the dinette’s chairs, Hawk put down his tablet and looked at me.

“First of all,” he said as I slowly got into a seated position myself, “I thought we established from the start that neither of us sleeps on the sofa.”

I tried not to smile at his recollection of our first night together. I wanted to maintain my stance on how I felt when I had left the recording studio. But it was hard. It was hard because it was him, and, if I was honest, I knew I was being extra-sensitive.

“Second,” he continued, but yet did not move, “and more importantly, I’m sorry.” When I continued to stare at my ruggedly handsome man, he spoke beseechingly. “C’mon, you gotta give me a break. I just love you.”

A fresh wave of emotion washed over me. As if the pregnancy hormones weren’t already going to wreak havoc over me, the potential prison meeting was bound to put me over the edge. And then to add Hawk’s love and thoughtfulness to the mix?

“I’m sorry, too.” I sat up a little straighter. “I know you just don’t want me hurt. I think I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”

He stood up and came to join me on the sofa. “That’s exactly what I was sitting there thinking.” His lightheartedness was short-lived as he realized how serious I was. “Maya…” He sighed.

“Hawk, you always have to put up with this…with me…all the…messes. The elevator, the storm shelter, the baby, the move, Allante, and now—”

“Maya.” He calmly, but with conviction, interrupted me. “Our baby is not a mess.”

“No,” I agreed, and, after a breath, started to say what was the truth. “But I—”

“Hold on.”

When he got up and left the room, it shocked me. But at least he returned quickly. Once again sitting on the sofa, he put down a small stack of blank copier paper. He took the first sheet, folded it in half, reopened it, and drew a line along the fold to create two even sides. He wrote an “M” on the top of one side and an “H” on the top of the other.

Under the “H,” he drew a vertical line and said, “elevator.” Then he drew another same-sized line right next to it and said, “storm shelter—which I put you in, by the way.” A third line warranted the comment, “the move—highly debatable.” He was reciting my list back to me but omitting the baby. When he said, “Allante,” he drew a fourth line and lifted his lips in a sad smile before continuing. “That motherfucker in prison.” He slashed a line across the other four.

I got it. They were tally marks. And I had pretty much guessed from the start that the letters represented our names. All the more proving my point, I wanted to say. But before I could verbalize that, he started drawing multiple groups of five tally marks in rapid succession under my “M.”

“What?” Confusion covered my face just as the tally marks did all over the paper.

He put the pencil down and dipped his head ever so slightly so we were directly eye to eye. “Every time I see you…think of you…knowing how much happier I am because of you…there’s not enough paper in the world to show what you do for me.” While my mouth hung open in awe of his words and chart, he continued. “I want you to come to me at the studio, in the elevator, when you’re sad, upset, scared. That’s part of loving you.” When I brought my tented hands up to my mouth, he glanced down and breathed. Hawk was a hand-holder and protector, but he wasn’t a wordsmith. And, yet, he was speaking openly and freely, just as he had when we had finally gotten everything out about the baby. I knew he meant every part of it and wouldn’t take it back but, nevertheless, he still reserved his machoism. “Don’t ever debate that with me again.”

Wanting to soak up all that was Hawk and all that was, somehow, wonderful in my life, I crawled onto his lap. As his arm found its natural security wrap around my body, I caressed kisses onto his lips and then laid my head on his shoulder. I looked at the beyond beautiful flower arrangement. Decisions about people states away would have to wait. His arms and our love were my only priority.

***

“So, I’m dying to know, those flowers…they aren’t decorations for this little party, are they?” Vanessa prompted.

“No. Not exactly.” I admired the barrel full of flowers from the night before that were tucked as much as they could be into the corner of the living room.

I looked across the room to Hawk, who was busy clinking beer bottles with Finn, Carter, and a couple of the band brothers. We had planned the little Halloween gathering a couple weeks before, and a prisoner wanting a one-on-one wasn’t going to derail it. Hawk and I both agreed to table that discussion for the day and chose instead to celebrate the holiday and friendship.

It wasn’t exactly working, though. It was constantly on my mind. I knew Hawk could tell. I knew because it was mirrored on his face most of the time, too.

Lara nibbled on a mini-sandwich while monitoring Chance and Arinn at the table as they ate their pizza, fruit, and cheese. They knew the real prize was the cupcake, though, when they finished. Hawk had teased about my menu of appetizers and desserts, referencing the “chick thing” theme, but everyone seemed to like it.

“What did Hawk do to get so far in the doghouse that he had to buy all of those?” Lara astutely assessed.

To which Vanessa added, “Did he click a dislike on your blog?”

As I picked up a chocolate-covered treat and prepared to answer, Carter chimed in, obviously listening to our conversation. “He is so whipped,” which promptly got him a smack in the arm from the flower-giver.

“He didn’t need to do it. I was as much to blame.” I looked my man in the eyes as he approached me.

“I’m just setting the standard for when she does something wrong.” He kissed my temple as a punctuation mark.

“God, I’ll owe you, like, personalized floor mats for the truck.”

“Hmmm…” His eyebrows lifted in a dreamy way.

“Or some fancy-schmancy fishing rod,” I tacked on.

“She knows you,” Zeke, one of the guitarists, agreed.

“Mai?” Hawk said, a little softer and more personally, into my ear. “Your phone was just buzzing.” He handed it to me.

I looked at the screen and saw that it had been Jeff’s parents. Everything and everyone around me seemed to drown out momentarily as the issue of Percy Kellerman, dying cop killer, came front and center again in my mind. I had called the Shrivers earlier in the morning because I knew I needed to tell them what was going on. The warden had informed me that Percy only asked to see me. But I wanted their input and thoughts on the matter. Unfortunately, I had only gotten their voicemail. So I had left a generic message for them to call me back. There was no way I was going to tell them what I knew on a voicemail.

“Go ahead.” Hawk encouraged me to call them back. Even though we had agreed to no evil-prison-dwellers talk, he knew how important it was for me to tell my ex-in-laws.

I squeezed his hand in appreciation and excused myself to return the call in the privacy of our bedroom. I didn’t talk long. For one thing, the story raced out of my mouth…sort of like food-poison vomit. And, for another, the Shrivers were in a state of shock. They needed time to comprehend what I was telling them.

When I returned back to our little gathering, the kids were getting the final touches on their Halloween costumes. Chance was decked out as a bad biker dude and Arinn was Wonder Woman. It at least brought a momentary curve to my lips.

Hawk, seeing my smile fade and, most likely, my eyes vacate, mouthed the word “patio” to me. I nodded my head in agreement and watched as he walked down the stairs. I adjusted Chance’s black leather vest and complimented him on his fake tattoos before telling Lara I would be right back.

When I made my way to the back patio, I simply and silently adhered to Hawk’s chest. The crisp end-of-October air was brisk enough for a jacket among costumes, but it was still not enough to let me breathe quite correctly. The beating of Hawk’s heart and the embrace of his arms helped, though.

“Okay.” The last breath was actually quite cleansing. I smiled softly in appreciation and started to go back in to the townhouse.

“Okay?” He grabbed at my hand so I would turn and see his shocked expression.

“Yep.” I put on a brave face.

“Maya, we can talk about it. What did the Shrivers—”

“No. We decided not to today. And I really think that is a good idea. They were pretty neutral, anyway.”

And their reaction only confused me more. I actually wanted someone to tell me what to do. I wanted a clear-cut answer, and I knew I wasn’t going to get one. Well, Hawk had given me one, but he was biased.

“Neut—?”

I cut him off, knowing I didn’t want my emotions to go into overload. I truly did want to put it off for the day. “It’s time to go trick-or-treating, anyway.”

Lara, Vanessa, and I were taking the kids trick-or-treating in our neighborhood because the Murphy’s ranch was beyond isolated and did not align itself to any neighbor-type traditions. The guys, of course, had other plans. Alcohol and video games, I believed, topped the list.

Hawk, thank goodness, was very good at letting things go—at least externally—when he knew it was what I needed. “Have fun with that,” he said, in his most mocking tone.

I shook my head but knew I legitimately would. Collecting sweet treats with two of my favorite kids was the part of the holiday I could appreciate. Because, God knew, I already had enough evil and scary things to last a lifetime.