Owen
OWEN
The haunted look of complete devastation etched on her beautiful face will be engrained in my mind for the rest of my life. When she falls to the floor, I move to scoop her into my arms, but she flinches, and that reaction alone hurts like a knife slicing through my chest.
Mase shakes his head, and I want to argue. I want to tell my best friend to leave us the fuck alone, but in this moment, as panic consumes me, I can barely think straight.
Silence fills the room as cries echo around us. Each sniffle taking a piece of my heart, ripping it bare and leaving it exposed, and each tear crushing it hopelessly.
The clock in the corner of the room taunts me, each tick taking a second of my life, yet I remain frozen, staring at my girl I broke so epically.
After what feels like a lifetime, she clears her throat, then stands, and when she slips her wedding ring from her finger, I feel like the devil himself is torturing my body and tearing every organ from within me.
“La… Lay.” I can barely speak her name. “Laya. Please, baby.” Wetness floods my cheeks. “Laya, look at me.”
She turns her head like I no longer exist and places the ring on the corner of my desk. “You’re not the man I thought you were, . You’re not my son’s father.” Her words cut me deep, so deep I rear back on my heels and cling to the desk for support. He’s my boy. He’s my fucking boy. No man could love him like I do. They’re both mine.
“You promised me love and support. You promised me trust!” she bellows, and I wince at the heartbreak behind her voice.
“We’re done.” She draws her eyes up to meet mine, and the finality in them almost brings me to my knees.
I swipe at the snot and tears dripping from the end of my nose. “We can’t be done, Laya. We only just fucking started!”
She shakes her head, and a humorless laugh leaves her. “We never should have started.”
I grab her hands and pull her against me. “Don’t fucking say that. Don’t you dare fucking say that,” I grind out as a storm of anger takes over me.
I’ve waited for years; my heart has been torn to shreds, and after she finally pieced me back together again, she’s now tearing me apart.
She yanks her hands away, and I hate the feeling of her loss, of losing her. My ribs ache as my chest constricts.
“Laya, there’s shit you don’t know.” Tate tries to reason with her, and the thought of her suffering more hurt has my pulse skyrocketing.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I sneer in his direction.
She jolts at the poison in my tone, then turns to face her brother. “Tell me.”
“No,” I snap.
She doesn’t so much as face me. “Tell me right now, Tate.”
He scrubs a hand over his jaw. “Fuck!”
“Tate, if you don’t tell me right now, I swear to God, we’re done. You’re my brother.” Her voice hitches with emotion. “I need someone to be honest with me, please.”
I want to step forward and swipe away the tears trailing down her cheeks; I want to pull her toward me and hold her in my arms, but I know she wouldn’t allow it.
“He was trafficking women. found out he was trafficking women, Laya. Selling them.”
Her face becomes even paler, and her body shudders as I drop my head in defeat.
“I wanted to protect you,” I whisper.
She turns to face me, and I almost wish she hadn’t. The hatred in her eyes is palpable through the room, and it stops my heart from beating momentarily.
My throat is dry with the way she stares at me with malice. “I know you’re hurt, Laya, but you have to know I never wanted to hurt you. I love you, baby.”
Her lip curls. “Hurt is having the man who took my virginity walk out the door and down the stairs to announce his engagement on my birthday.”
The tension in the room thickens.
“What did you just say?” Tate’s head snaps up, and he steps forward, but she ignores his outburst.
“Hurt is watching your husband slaughtered in front of you while you beg for mercy. Hurt is knowing you’d rather hurt me than come clean to my brother. Hurt is learning my mom helped push away the man I love. Learning that the man I love, my husband, my baby’s protector, caused all of that. It is more than hurt, . It’s destruction.” She rests her hand on her heart. “You hurt me far more than Carlos ever could, because you owned my heart, and you knew it. You destroyed me, you’ve destroyed us, and I never want to see you again.” Her eyes blaze with fire. “You’re the one who’s dead to me.”
She turns to walk toward the door. “Laya, I can’t do this without you.” I rush past her to block her exit. “You’re it for me, baby. You’re my everything,” I whisper through blurred vision as my arms block the only way out of the room.
“Let her go, man,” Mase whispers beside me, but I shake my head in denial.
“I can’t.” Why can’t he see? Why can’t they all see? All I ever wanted was her. “She’s my everything.”
He takes my face in the palms of his hands, and our eyes lock. “You’re going to step away from the door and let her leave the room.” I move my lips to argue, but he speaks firmer than before. “You’re going to do that because it’s the right thing to do for her right now. Then you’re going to leave with me and let her have a bit of space.”
“I don’t want to sleep without her in my arms,” I mutter, needing him to know the fear I have at not being able to hold her at night when I’ve waited so long for that. Not being able to bring her the comfort she brings me.
His eyes flash with sympathy. “Just tonight, brother,” he says, but swallows hard, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that he’s lying and only telling me what I want to hear.
My legs give way with defeat, and I drop to the floor with a heavy thud. Holding the back of my neck with both hands, I pull my head between my legs as uncontrollable sobs strike me, knowing I could have had it all, and now I have nothing. My fingers tangle with the bracelet on my wrist, a stark reminder of her.
“Please,” I cry, hoping she gifts me with mercy.
I’m nothing without them.