Hawk eyed the door. Aric might need him. Kit didn’t, and he sure wasn’t into scaring her. “He’ll be fine.”

Bull laughed and slapped his back. “C’mon, let’s go in.”

Hawk shot him a glare that should’ve fried his ass.

If anything, Bull’s smirk widened. “If nothing else, the beer’s great.” The owner of Bull’s Moose Brewery would say so, of course.

There was no winning this battle.

With a pissed-off growl, Hawk stepped inside and assessed the room. Good lines of retreat to the windows and doors. Three people in the living area—Frankie, Kit, Aric.

Dark-haired, curvy Frankie who was Bull’s woman sat at one end of the sectional.

With her splinted right arm in a sling, Kit sat in the middle with the kid standing and leaning against her legs. Still slender, but she’d gained some weight and was no longer hollow-cheeked. An inch or so shorter than Frankie, she might be five-five. The brown hair with sun-lightened streaks was like the coloring of a golden eagle. So fucking pretty.

In the compound the night of the rescue, she’d been bruised, battered, and beaten, but not broken. No, she’d roused enough to help get the other women to leave, had told them, “Go with Frankie, you idiots.” She’d fought off unconsciousness and ordered Hawk to care for her son. The woman had a solid core of strength.

But she wasn’t all steel. When she smiled at her son and her brown eyes turned soft, the warmth was enough to melt an Alaska glacier.

Hawk didn’t get a smile.

Then he did. A hesitant one as if she wasn’t sure how he’d react. “Hawk, thank you for taking care of Aric. I didn’t realize that you’d be doing…well, everything.”

“Everyone helped.” And he would be doing nothing now the kid’s mother was here. A prickly ache started up under his ribcage.

“We have goodies, everyone.” Frankie set a tray of cookies on the coffee table, and Hawk almost laughed when Aric’s gaze snagged on the sweets.

The kid didn’t speak, dammit. It would be a fine day when the boy felt comfortable enough to ask for something he wanted.

Hawk glanced at Kit to see if she’d noticed her son’s desire.

She had. Her busted ribs were obviously painful as she leaned forward, snagged a cookie, and handed it to Aric. Her lips were pressed tight as she leaned back.

Hawk stared at her. Rather than asking for help, she’d hurt herself to give her son a treat. Felt like something he’d do, but it didn’t feel right when she behaved the same way.

“Yo, bro. Try this.” Bull handed over a bottle of beer.

Hawk checked the label. Bull’s Moose Brewery. “Break-up Ale?”