Laya
LAYA
“Can I have a phone?”
I lift my head from my meal to face Owen, but cutlery clattering to the table forces me to turn toward Tate.
“You don’t have a phone?” His eyes narrow on Owen.
Owen tenses, and I squeeze his thigh beneath the table.
Then I clear my throat and shake my head toward Tate. “No, Carlos only allowed me one with him as a contact. He said it wasn’t safe.”
Owen growls, and the threat of violence vibrates off him.
Tate scoffs. “Damn fucking right it wasn’t safe. Fucking prick.”
Ava elbows him in the chest, and I bite into my lip to stifle a smile. This eases Owen’s tension, and when he entwines my fingers with his, my heart soars. “You can have anything you want, baby. I’ll make sure all your old contacts are in there too.”
“You can have anything you want, baby,” Tate mimics childishly while screwing his face up.
When Ava proposed a meal for the four of us, I jumped at the chance of bringing the guys closer together again.
“Don’t be a dick, Tate,” Ava snaps, taking the words right out of my mouth.
Owen curls his freehand around the back of my neck and tugs me toward him, then his breath touches my ear. “I’m so fucking hungry for your pussy right now. Are you still wet, baby girl? Or do you need filled again?” My cheeks flame with heat.
“Jesus fucking Christ, now he’s whispering sweet things to her, right in front of my face.”
Ava rolls her eyes, then I watch with a pang of longing as she rubs her stomach.
“Ain’t nothing sweet about what I just whispered,” Owen says, and I wince at his words. Then he takes a drink of his beer with a smug grin on his face that even I want to wipe off him.
Ava lets out a loud huff, then shakes her head before leaning over the table, done with their pettiness. “Did you manage to leave Mexico with anything, ?” The concern in her voice has me fidgeting.
“No.”
She nods in understanding.
“I wish I had photos of Romeo when he was first born.” My eyes drift down toward my son sleeping in his buggy. “Carlos shoved a bag at me. I actually need to sort through it, the documentation, passport, that sort of thing.” I wave my hand around nonchalantly, trying to ward off the imposing fear I have at the thought of opening that bag up.
I don’t want to see anything from it. It’s why I shoved it up onto the top shelf of the closet, as far away from me as possible. Maybe it’s something I could ask Owen to help me deal with instead of avoiding.
Tate relaxes into his chair, and I’m once again grateful for Ava’s interruption. My brother rests his hand on Ava’s protruding tummy, and I can’t help the feeling of envy that washes over me.
Romeo fidgets, and I move to unclip him. “You want me to go change him?” Owen leans forward and grabs his diaper bag.
“No. I’m good. Just hand me the wipes and diaper, please.”
Owen digs around in his bag, and his eyes swim in confusion as he pulls his hand back out of the bag.
Time stands still as he uncurls his fingers to reveal a memory card, and my breath stutters as a memory of the night Carlos gave it to me assaults me.
“Give this to Owen.” He pushes it into my hands. “It’s important, mi amor. Only Owen.”
I snap my eyes open, not even realizing I’d closed them. “Carlos asked me to give it to you.” His lips part to speak, but I shake my head, determined to get my words out. “I forgot all about it.” Annoyance with myself ripples through me. “How the hell could I forget about it?”
“You had other things to think about. Like rushing into a marriage,” Tate spits out, pointing his fork toward my wedding ring.
“Do you know what’s on this?” Owen scans my face.
The intensity behind his stare makes it difficult to swallow, and I blow out a shaky breath before answering. “No.” My eyes implore his. “I’ve no idea.”
His shoulders relax, and he pulls me toward him, placing a soft kiss on my head as I bury my face against his chest. “Okay, baby girl.”
For the first time in my life, Owen’s touch has anxiety creeping up my spine, consuming me and banding around my heart like a viper. “What do you think is on there?” I whisper.
“Nothing good, if it’s to do with that prick,” Tate snipes out, and Owen glares fire in his direction.
Then his attention is pulled back to me, and he strokes comforting circles over my back. “I don’t know. But I don’t want you to worry about it. I’ll deal with it; do you understand me? I’ll protect you.” He lifts my chin so our gazes clash. “You can trust me to protect you both, .”
I nod, believing every word.
“Let’s get Romeo changed and go home. I want to know what I’m dealing with.”
A ball of dread lines my stomach, knowing deep in my heart nothing good will come off that memory card. Not a single thing, and I can’t help but feel this is all so much bigger than what Owen can deal with, no matter how much he proclaims to protect us.
This is bigger than him, and he might not be able to protect us as much as he’d love to, and I refuse to let him get hurt trying.
He deserves more than that. We all do.