gentleness was highly overrated, to know who or what had hurt him so.
Silence spun out between them. She kept at her task, switching from water to astringent, but his stony expression never changed. He didn't wince, didn't relax. He just sat there with that dark blond hair falling against his wide cheekbones, his jaw clenched, and stared beyond her to the far side of the cave.
It was the stillness that got her. At least when Hawk spoke or moved, she knew his intent. And when she knew, she could protect.
Deciding none of the cuts required bandages, she rocked back on her heels and packed away the medical supplies. "Do you think they're looking for us?"
He turned to look at her. "Your family would move heaven and earth to find you. You know that."
Yes, she did know that, but she also knew plane crashes rarely yielded survivors. Her mother and father would have received the news hours ago. Maybe they were even on their way to the States. To bury a second daughter.
"Ellie?"
She looked up through a sheen of tears, fought back the emotion drowning her heart.
He took her hand and squeezed. "They're going to find us."
She swallowed, nodded. "But until then, my family will think we're dead." The thought devastated.
Finally, at last, Hawk's expression softened. The hard look faded from his eyes, replaced by a glimmer of compassion that beckoned like a lifeline. " Elizabeth . Your father isn't a man to jump to conclusions."
"It's not that much of a jump." Memories washed over her, their vicious undertow pulling her back to a time and place she would trade her life to erase from their past. "Kristina was always his favorite," she said, pulling her hand from his to wrap her arms around her middle. For the first time since the plane had come down, white-hot pain didn't spear through her. Coldness seeped instead, a pain that bled from deep inside, one that could not be stanched through a simple medical procedure.
"His best and brightest, he always said." Two years older than Elizabeth , her sister had been ambitious and outspoken, strikingly beautiful, afraid of nothing and no one, ready to take on the world single-handedly. She could have had her choice of any man, but from the time she'd been old enough to date, there'd been only one. Elizabeth had always been a little in awe. "She looked like him," she whispered. "She was the only one of us kids that had his jet-black hair."
Hawk watched her steadily. "You loved her a lot."
"I practically worshipped her," she admitted with a little laugh. "To me she was perfect." Ethan had been allowed to carve his own path, but Elizabeth had always been held up to Kristina. And while Elizabeth had achieved much in her own right, she'd never quite measured up to her sister. "And then there was Miranda."
Hawk laughed. "The family gypsy."
"She didn't care, you know? She just didn't care. She lives her life to her own tune, and no one expects anything different." Her younger sister had been different from the moment she was born, and it was as if all those suffocating Carrington responsibilities escaped her. Sure, her family wanted her to be the picture-perfect child, but their expectations never held her back. "One Easter Sunday Mom dressed the four of us in matching outfits. We girls had these lacy white dresses and poor Ethan had a white suit, even with a white tie." The memory made her smile. "Mom had a photographer coming, but when it came time for the photos, no one could find Miranda."
Hawk's lips twitched. "Let me guess. She was making mud pies."
Now it was Elizabeth 's turn to laugh. "Close," she said, seeing the past in her mind as vividly as she saw Hawk sprawled against the wall of the cave. "She'd found the Easter baskets and had chocolate smeared from one end to the other—on her dress, her white tights, her face, everywhere." Elizabeth would never forget the look of horror twisting her mother's face when she found Miranda in her closet, devouring all those chocolate bunnies.
Silence spun out between them. She kept at her task, switching from water to astringent, but his stony expression never changed. He didn't wince, didn't relax. He just sat there with that dark blond hair falling against his wide cheekbones, his jaw clenched, and stared beyond her to the far side of the cave.
It was the stillness that got her. At least when Hawk spoke or moved, she knew his intent. And when she knew, she could protect.
Deciding none of the cuts required bandages, she rocked back on her heels and packed away the medical supplies. "Do you think they're looking for us?"
He turned to look at her. "Your family would move heaven and earth to find you. You know that."
Yes, she did know that, but she also knew plane crashes rarely yielded survivors. Her mother and father would have received the news hours ago. Maybe they were even on their way to the States. To bury a second daughter.
"Ellie?"
She looked up through a sheen of tears, fought back the emotion drowning her heart.
He took her hand and squeezed. "They're going to find us."
She swallowed, nodded. "But until then, my family will think we're dead." The thought devastated.
Finally, at last, Hawk's expression softened. The hard look faded from his eyes, replaced by a glimmer of compassion that beckoned like a lifeline. " Elizabeth . Your father isn't a man to jump to conclusions."
"It's not that much of a jump." Memories washed over her, their vicious undertow pulling her back to a time and place she would trade her life to erase from their past. "Kristina was always his favorite," she said, pulling her hand from his to wrap her arms around her middle. For the first time since the plane had come down, white-hot pain didn't spear through her. Coldness seeped instead, a pain that bled from deep inside, one that could not be stanched through a simple medical procedure.
"His best and brightest, he always said." Two years older than Elizabeth , her sister had been ambitious and outspoken, strikingly beautiful, afraid of nothing and no one, ready to take on the world single-handedly. She could have had her choice of any man, but from the time she'd been old enough to date, there'd been only one. Elizabeth had always been a little in awe. "She looked like him," she whispered. "She was the only one of us kids that had his jet-black hair."
Hawk watched her steadily. "You loved her a lot."
"I practically worshipped her," she admitted with a little laugh. "To me she was perfect." Ethan had been allowed to carve his own path, but Elizabeth had always been held up to Kristina. And while Elizabeth had achieved much in her own right, she'd never quite measured up to her sister. "And then there was Miranda."
Hawk laughed. "The family gypsy."
"She didn't care, you know? She just didn't care. She lives her life to her own tune, and no one expects anything different." Her younger sister had been different from the moment she was born, and it was as if all those suffocating Carrington responsibilities escaped her. Sure, her family wanted her to be the picture-perfect child, but their expectations never held her back. "One Easter Sunday Mom dressed the four of us in matching outfits. We girls had these lacy white dresses and poor Ethan had a white suit, even with a white tie." The memory made her smile. "Mom had a photographer coming, but when it came time for the photos, no one could find Miranda."
Hawk's lips twitched. "Let me guess. She was making mud pies."
Now it was Elizabeth 's turn to laugh. "Close," she said, seeing the past in her mind as vividly as she saw Hawk sprawled against the wall of the cave. "She'd found the Easter baskets and had chocolate smeared from one end to the other—on her dress, her white tights, her face, everywhere." Elizabeth would never forget the look of horror twisting her mother's face when she found Miranda in her closet, devouring all those chocolate bunnies.
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