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Spring was slowly beginning to show its colors. After endless weeks of snow, the first crocuses appeared like small miracles, pushing up in patches around the house, blooming through the last stubborn remnants of white.
To Hawk, the returning warmth felt just as miraculous. Sitting in the sunlight for a moment, cigarette between his fingers, listening to the birds chattering excitedly in the woods — it all felt dangerously close to freedom.
Spring seemed to lift Tim’s spirits too. He’d grown quieter lately, filling his little notebook with scribbled thoughts, disappearing into ideas and half-formed dreams, into that endless idealism Hawk both admired and worried over. He understood it, though. Tim had never been given the chance at a career the way Hawk had. He’d chosen love instead.
Some days, Hawk caught himself wondering whether it would have been better if he’d left Tim alone. But the thought never went far, there was always that sudden fist around his heart, squeezing hard enough to steal his breath, and he stopped himself. They had something no career could ever offer. It had taken almost losing Tim for Hawk to understand that.
He took another long drag from his late-afternoon cigarette, marking the end of his workday. The translation was finished — travel information, neatly typed and sealed into an envelope. Tim would mail it tomorrow on his way to work.
Translating was a decent job, all things considered.
It could have been worse.
Hawk stubbed his cigarette out in his empty coffee cup and pushed himself to his feet behind the house. Watching the pond had become his new afternoon habit. A pair of ducks had made their home there, and Hawk was certain there would be ducklings soon. He’d never admit it to anyone, but the thought of small, fluffy birds wandering through his backyard made him smile.
He was sure Tim would draw them. Would crouch near the water and coo softly, utterly delighted. Anything that made Tim smile felt like a small victory.
Hawk checked his watch again. Tim should be home any minute now, groceries in hand. They’d cook together, like always. Tim would rant about his day, Hawk would crack a few dry jokes and gently pull him back out of it, back into their quiet, shared happiness.
Because it was happy.
Even if it was hidden. Even if it was a secret. Even if both of them still dreamed of something more — a meaningful career, a place in the world. They were happy.
He rounded the house, sniffling slightly. The cold had crept under his skin; it wasn’t really spring yet, and his wool sweater was no substitute for a proper coat. Still, he allowed himself a bit of optimism.
The porch steps creaked beneath his weight.
Then he heard it.
Tires on the drive.
Hawk froze.
Not the familiar sound of Tim’s bike. This was a car. And his own was parked beside the house. No one ever came down here by car.
His heart started to pound as he turned.
A baby-blue vehicle approached in the distance — a newer model, polished, unmistakably expensive. It screamed money, status, a life he thought he’d left behind.
Hawk swallowed, jaw tightening.
The car drew closer, and for one awful moment he thought he might be sick when he recognized the driver.
Lucy.
Hawk gripped the porch railing, breathing heavily as she parked her car and stepped outside like this was an everyday visit, like she did it all the time.
“Hawk,” she smiled. “It is good to see you.”
“What are you doing here?” It slipped out exactly the way he felt — panicked, unguarded — and the sound of his own voice startled him.
“Am I not allowed to visit a friend?”
A friend? Had Hawk ever been her friend? He doubted it. A friend didn’t plan to take another friend’s future and hide behind it.
“Where did you get this address?” he asked, suddenly feeling hunted, exposed in a way that made his skin prickle.
“Your friend Marcus.”
No. Hawk’s thoughts scrambled immediately. That wasn’t possible. Marcus wouldn’t have told her anything. They had only ever met briefly, and Lucy had never shown the slightest interest in being Marcus’ friend. How had this happened?
“That’s not possible,” Hawk said, forcing control back into his voice.
“And yet here I am.”
She walked toward the house with an almost unsettling confidence.
“What do you want?” Hawk asked when she reached the steps. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted to know why you ran,” she hissed. Then she stopped herself, drew in a breath. “I am engaged, Hawk. He’s a good man.”
Hawk nodded. His jaw was tight. “I’m glad.”
“Why did you do it?” she asked.
“Did what?”
“All of a sudden you had an affair with your secretary. Then you quit and disappeared. And now this.” She gestured at the house. “This is so unlike you.”
“Why do you care?” Hawk said, keeping his composure by force, hoping he could unsettle her enough to make her leave before Tim came home.
“Hawk,” she sighed. “I thought maybe —”
“Maybe what?”
“Maybe there was still a chance.”
Hawk wanted to scream at the sky. If anyone was up there, like Tim believed, then that someone had a cruel sense of humor.
“No,” Hawk said. “There isn’t.”
“Did my father do something? Is it his fault?” she asked.
“No,” Hawk replied dryly, leaving no room for argument, not even in his own head.
“But —” she tried again.
Hawk didn’t hear the rest, because he saw Tim.
He saw his innocent, sweet Skippy coming down the drive on his bike, cheeks flushed from the cold. He saw him hit the brakes too hard, saw the hesitation, the moment of uncertainty.
No. Hawk’s chest tightened painfully. Please no.
He wanted to scream at Tim to turn around, to ride away before she noticed him, before it was too late. But Tim stayed frozen, and Lucy, of course, followed Hawk’s line of sight.
The moment she turned around, it felt as though someone had tampered with the speed on Hawk’s record player. Everything slowed. Lucy’s gaze settled on Tim. Hawk could see the fear in Tim’s eyes with awful clarity.
No. Please.
“Who is he?” Lucy asked, nodding toward Tim in the distance. “Why does he look familiar?”
“He’s just from the village,” Hawk rasped. “Delivering some orders.”
“Then why isn’t he coming closer?”
Hawk cleared his throat and lifted his hand, waving Tim forward, signaling him to come closer. He hated what he had to do next.
With a grim expression, he stepped inside to grab his wallet. When he came back out, Tim had parked the bike next to the porch.
“Thank you for that,” Hawk said, forcing a smile as he held out a few dollars.
Tim’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What?” he whispered.
“For the groceries,” Hawk hissed between clenched teeth, the pressure around his heart nearly unbearable.
Tim nodded. Hawk could already see his eyes glassing over. He lifted the paperback from the basket and handed it to Hawk, then took the money.
“Ma’am,” Tim said, tipping his head politely before getting back on the bike.
He was shaking. Hawk could see it clearly. His boy had already had a long day of work, a cold ride home, and now he was being sent away again — unable to come inside, unable to come home.
“Wait a second,” Lucy said suddenly. “I know you. I’ve seen you in D.C. One of my father’s parties.”
Tim drew in a shaky, audible breath. “You must have me mixed up, ma’am. I’m not from D.C.”
“I’m sure I’ve seen you,” she said again, then turned to Hawk. “What is going on here?”
Hawk’s heart was beating hard, his ears starting to ring. They were about to be discovered. There was no other way around it.
“Hawkins?” Lucy turned back toward him. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hawk said, one last desperate attempt before this life — his life with Tim — fell apart.
“I’m sure I’ve seen him before,” Lucy insisted. “I’m sure. Why is he here?”
“It’s a coincidence,” Tim said quickly, and Hawk wished he hadn’t.
“So I have seen you before,” Lucy said, turning fully toward Tim. Tim’s face went pale.
Sweet, innocent Skippy, Hawk thought. Can’t lie to save his life.
Hawk saw the moment the penny dropped — the exact second Lucy understood what she was seeing. She went pale as her gaze flicked between Hawk and Tim, and to Hawk’s absolute horror, Tim started to cry, giving them away completely.
Hawk wanted to reach out, to pull Tim into his arms, but he couldn’t move. He felt frozen in place, exposed, judged — just like all those years ago, when his father hadn’t knocked.
“Tell me I’m mistaken,” Lucy said, her voice thin. Hawk could hear the horror in it. “Tell me this isn’t what I’m thinking.”
“Lucy,” Hawk said carefully. “Come inside. Let us talk.”
“Talk?” She shook her head. “What are you doing, Hawk? With him? Are you living here? Is that why you ran from the city? To be with —” She swallowed, then pointed at Tim. “To be with him?”
Tim sniffed audibly, his whole body shaking. “Please,” he said softly. “Please don’t tell anyone.”
“It’s true,” Lucy pressed a hand to her face. “You’re a —” She swallowed again. “You’re one of those men?”
Hawk knew his future, his happiness, his freedom, hung on one person’s judgment. If Lucy wanted to see him punished, all she had to do was go to the police. His chest tightened at the thought of Tim in handcuffs, of someone taking him away.
Of what they would do to him in prison. To his sweet boy.
“It’s true,” Hawk said. His voice sounded thin even to his own ears. “Please. Come inside.”
“To do what?” Lucy asked, scandalized. “I should go.”
“Lucy!” Hawk hurried after her. “Please, let us talk.”
“What is there to talk about?” She stepped back.
“Lucy, please,” Hawk called, his voice breaking. “I love him.”
It slipped out just like that, and Hawk thought he might faint. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Tim. He could hear him crying, and if he looked, he knew he’d break too.
Hawk never cried. It never got him anywhere. But Tim had changed everything — made him vulnerable in a way he’d never allowed before. Seeing him sick, seeing him sad or scared, it unraveled Hawk completely.
Lucy stopped mid-step. For a long moment no one moved, no one spoke. Hawk could hear birds chattering around them as if nothing had happened, as if the world hadn’t just cracked open. The earth kept turning. Nature went on.
“Please,” Hawk said quietly at last. “Let us talk.”
Lucy turned back toward them, and for the first time Hawk saw doubt in her face. She had always been smart — something he’d admired. She had her own mind, her own way of surviving a world that rarely let women speak freely.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because I want you to understand,” Hawk said softly. “Please. Let’s have some coffee or tea.”
Her gaze shifted between Hawk and Tim, back and forth, weighing something Hawk couldn’t see.
“Fine,” she said at last.
Hawk’s heart hammered as she turned, as she climbed the steps and went into the house. Only once she was inside did he dare look at Tim.
Tim’s face was red and streaked with tears, his body shaking uncontrollably.
“Skippy,” Hawk whispered. “Come here.”
Tim looked at him and didn’t move. For a moment Hawk was afraid he’d run. Then Tim stepped forward slowly, as if his joints ached.
Hawk made sure Lucy had her back to them before pulling Tim into his arms and squeezing him tight — just for a second — before letting go again.
“It’s going to be okay,” Hawk whispered.
“How do you know?” Tim asked, his voice so quiet it barely carried.
“I just do.”
“But —” Tim sniffed.
“Trust me.” Hawk brushed the back of his hand briefly against Tim’s cheek. “Please.”
Tim only blinked at him, eyes wide and wet.
“I know you’re scared,” Hawk added, keeping his voice low. “But please. Go inside now.”
With a surge of relief Hawk watched Tim step through the door. He followed close behind and shut it firmly.
Lucy stood in the middle of the living room, taking in the rustic little space. Hawk doubted she would ever understand that this felt more luxurious to him than his apartment in D.C. ever had.
“Take a seat,” Hawk said. “Please.”
She did, and her gaze immediately settled on Tim. Hawk noticed the way Tim’s fingers twitched at his sides, how he avoided her eyes and stared instead at the floor.
“Coffee or tea?” Hawk asked.
“Coffee,” Lucy said.
“Nothing,” Tim whispered.
Hawk wanted to insist — at least tea, something warm — but he didn’t dare. He couldn’t afford another display of care, not now, and the restraint burned.
He moved quickly in the kitchen, making coffee for Lucy and himself, his thoughts never leaving the room beyond the doorway. The idea of Lucy alone with Tim made his stomach knot.
When he carried the mugs back, nothing had changed. Tim still hovered near the hallway, fingers curled into the hem of his sweater. Lucy watched him intently, her attention sharp, almost predatory.
Hawk set the mug down in front of her with more force than necessary.
“You wanted to talk,” Lucy said. “So talk.”
Hawk took the chair across from her, then pulled out the one beside him. It took Tim far too long to sit. He kept his head down, his breathing uneven and shaky.
“I want to ask you not to tell anyone about this,” Hawk said evenly, forcing his voice into calm, into control, as if this were a negotiation across a polished table in Washington.
“Why would I do that?”
“You could hurt us,” Hawk said. “A lot.”
“I could,” Lucy agreed. “And after what you did to me, I’d need a very good reason not to.” She shook her head. “Hawk, it’s so —”
“Don’t,” Hawk cut in before she could finish, before he had to hear the word forming on her tongue.
“Why?”
“Did you ever love someone?” Hawk asked.
Lucy held his gaze. “Yes. I have. And I’m marrying him.”
“Good,” Hawk said with a small nod. “What would you do if someone told you that your love was wrong?”
“Why would anyone do that?”
“It’s a hypothetical,” Hawk said. “What would you do?”
“I’d accept it.”
Hawk lifted an eyebrow. “You would? You’d accept that someone else gets to decide how you’re supposed to feel, what’s right for you?” His voice sharpened despite himself. “Or are you only saying that because you believe what I feel is wrong?”
“I have been taught to accept it, Hawk,” she shot back.
“And you always had your own mind,” Hawk replied. “You stood up to your father more than once. You always got what you wanted.”
He knew life hadn’t been easy for Lucy either. He knew that. But she would never have to justify her love for a man. Status or standing might complicate things, yes — but people would frame it as tragic, romantic, even brave. A story worth pity or admiration. No one would look at her with disgust. That was something she would never have to understand.
“You always made me believe you had a romantic interest in me,” she said.
“I did,” Hawk answered without hesitation.
“Why?”
“To not end up in jail,” he said dryly.
Her mouth tightened. “But now you would risk it,” she observed. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”
Hawk didn’t answer with words. Instead, he reached for Tim’s hand.
It was a bold move — reckless, maybe — but he did it anyway. He gently uncurled Tim’s fist and laced their fingers together. His own heart hammered painfully in his chest, and Tim’s palm was damp against his, shaking slightly.
“I can’t lose the man I love,” Hawk said quietly, his gaze fixed on Tim’s profile.
Tim finally looked up. His eyes were red and glassy, tears tracking down his cheeks.
“The thought is unbearable,” Hawk went on, his voice thinning despite his effort to keep it steady. He couldn’t stop himself from remembering Tim in his bed, burning with fever, barely conscious. The memory cut deep.
Tim swallowed. Hawk saw everything play across his face — fear, love, disbelief, hope. His Skippy. His life.
“I would risk it all,” Hawk said simply.
Tim’s lips trembled again, and Hawk had to fight the urge to pull him close, to wrap him in a blanket, to run a bath, to do anything that might make the shaking stop. Anything to take the pain from his face.
Tim squeezed his hand in return, fingers still trembling.
When Hawk looked back at Lucy, her expression had shifted into something unreadable. It might have been pity. Or understanding. Or denial. Or disgust. Maybe all of it tangled together.
“Fine,” she said at last. Her chair scraped sharply against the floorboards as she stood. “I won’t tell anyone.”
“Lucy,” Hawk said, rising and letting go of Tim’s hand.
“I won’t tell,” she repeated, her gaze sliding away from him.
There had been countless moments at the State Department when Hawk had known someone was lying to his face. A capital of ulterior motives, he had once called it — half a joke, half a warning to Tim. It had proven true there, and over time he’d learned it was just as true in life. People who expected nothing in return were rare. Tim was one of them.
Lucy was not.
“Just one thing,” she said, still turned away. “I will tell my father that you are a liar. And if you ever need his help again, he should deny you.”
“Believe me,” Hawk said flatly, “he already knows that.”
She paused. “Because of your… affair. With that woman.”
“Lucy,” Hawk tried again, softer now. “Please.”
“Don’t worry, Hawkins.” She finally moved toward the door. “I don’t want anything from you. I won’t tell anyone what I saw here. It would cause too much trouble for my family if it became public. I’m protecting myself too. Everyone knows I wanted to marry you. I would have said yes in a heartbeat.”
With that, she opened the door and left, letting it slam hard against the frame.
“Oh god,” Tim exhaled, the sound rushed, like he’d been holding his breath for minutes.
Hawk crossed to the window overlooking the front of the house. He watched Lucy get into her car, reverse, and drive off too fast.
“Do you think she means it?” Tim asked quietly.
“Yes,” Hawk said, tracking the car until it disappeared down the long drive. “Because she’s right. Her father couldn’t survive the shame of realizing he helped someone like me all those years.”
And for the first time, Hawk found himself hoping that the Senator would never discover the truth about his own son. About Leonard. For Leonard’s sake.
“I’m sorry, Skippy,” Hawk said as he turned back to Tim. “For pretending you delivered groceries. For giving you that money.”
“I understand,” Tim said softly. “I do… but it didn’t feel good.”
“Come here.” Hawk opened his arms.
When Tim finally stood and stepped into them, Hawk closed his arms tight around him. He buried his face in Tim’s hair, breathing him in, grounding himself. Tim fit against him easily, fragile and solid all at once, and Hawk’s mind kept racing through every possible outcome.
Lucy could destroy them if she wanted to. Even if she kept her word, that power would remain — hanging over them, quiet and constant, for as long as loving Tim was forbidden.
“I was so scared,” Tim whispered, his voice breaking again. “I thought this was it.”
“Me too,” Hawk murmured against Tim’s cheek.
“I don’t ever want this to happen again.”
“Neither do I.” Hawk tightened his hold. “I can’t lose you.”
“I can’t lose you either,” Tim said, fingers clutching Hawk’s sweater. “I’ll do anything you say to protect us. Anything.”
“Shh,” Hawk soothed. “Let’s not rush anything.“
“We can’t risk this,” Tim said, voice trembling. “We can’t.”
“I know,” Hawk said. “And we won’t. We haven’t.”
“How did she find us?” Tim asked.
“I don’t know,” Hawk admitted. “But from now on, we’re even more careful. With the mail. With everything.” He pressed his cheek to Tim’s hair. “We’ll find a way. I promise.”
For a moment they stayed like that, wrapped around each other, until reality crept back in with the memory of the groceries still waiting.
The evening that followed felt odd and muted. They cooked in near silence. Tim didn’t complain about his day, and Hawk didn’t mention his own. There was nothing to complain about, not really. Maybe, awful as it had been, they had needed this. A reminder. A sharp, painful one, of how rare and fragile their life together was. How easily it could be taken from them.
Later, when the house had gone quiet and they finally slipped into bed, Tim pulled the extra blanket up around his shoulders. Hawk was already halfway to sleep when something surfaced in his mind.
“There are ducks in the pond,” he murmured.
“Ducks?” Tim asked softly, his head resting on Hawk’s chest.
“Yes,” Hawk yawned. “They moved into the pond behind the house.”
Tim smiled faintly. “Do you think there will be ducklings?”
“I do,” Hawk said, a sleepy smile in his voice.
“I like that.”
Hawk tightened his arms around him, pressed a kiss into Tim’s hair, breathing him in. “I love you, Skippy.”
“I love you too,” Tim whispered. Then, after a beat, “I still can’t believe you told her you loved me.”
Hawk let out a quiet laugh. “I can’t either.”
“It was the bravest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
“Even if it was risky?”
“Yes,” Tim breathed. “Thank you.”
Hawk kissed him once more, reached over to switch off the light, and finally let himself drift into sleep with Tim warm and solid in his arms.