Chapter 21
Twenty-One
“Maybe it’s time to take up Aggie’s offer of the cabin?”
Ramos watched Laila’s resigned stare stay glued to the white hospital wall ahead of her, leaving his suggestion to hang heavy in the air. While he’d taken on the duty of bringing her to the hospital, Ally and Chip had stayed in Harlow to look after Whitney. The drive here alone took an entire hour, and now that Laila’s dislocated shoulder had been set back in place, the time neared midnight as they sat waiting for a final x-ray to confirm she was okay to go home.
“I found out about Aggie’s cottage being an option less than twelve hours ago.” The pale, bedraggled cast of Laila’s face spoke of pure exhaustion, and now her cheeks turned paler still. “Do I get a minute to gather my thoughts?”
The sting of her dismissal burrowed into his chest, but he guessed—or perhaps hoped—she didn’t mean to take her frustrations out on him. He turned to her and offered his still gaze. She turned back and her haunted stare met his, the tension across her face falling slack. “Sorry.”
“Are we going to discuss what happened tonight?” He paused, the image of her violent scuffle with Gibbons still fresh on his brain. “Or would you like to continue the silent treatment?”
“I’m not ignoring you.” She twisted her focus back to the wall and spoke in a deflated tone. “I just don’t know what to say.”
“Well then, let me start.” He shifted to face her fully. “While I appreciate the sentiment, I’d prefer you didn’t get beat up on my behalf.”
“I didn’t get ‘beat up’.” She sent him a narrowed scowl denoting sarcasm, then returned to her wall-staring. “Gerry Gibbons, with his sucky sense of balance, landed on me!”
Not wanting to make light of affairs just yet, he pressed his teeth together, suppressing a need to smile at her description of how things unfolded. Though perhaps it was a good thing that, even in her exhausted state, she maintained a sense of humor.
He settled back in his chair and crossed his arms, resting his head on the unforgiving wall behind him. “Fair enough, but the point still stands. I’m here to protect you, not the other way around.”
She sighed and mirrored his leaning, closing her eyes as she spoke. “Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want you getting beaten up for me either.”
“Laila, it’s my—”
“Yeah, I know. I know. It’s your job. I just... I don’t have to like it, okay?” She pressed away from the wall and turned to him, her direct stare taking on rigidity. “And it’s hard for me to sit back and do nothing, especially since Gerry stepped onto my home turf. And Whitney. Whitney was home tonight. And then the stuff Gerry wrote in that note. I’m allowed to get angry too, Ramos. I’m allowed to protect my own when some creep comes literally to my door.”
“You think what was in the note was anything I hadn’t heard before?” He scoffed and shook his head. The grim fact he’d become hardened to disrespectful comments made him the one to take his attention away now. “What’s shocking to you is just another Sunday to me.”
“Still doesn’t make what he wrote right.” Though he couldn’t see her, her tone turned raspy, as though she absorbed the sadder reality of being him. That raspiness filled his belly with an undefinable tension.
Gerry’s note had been filled with racially fueled hate. He’d questioned Laila’s morals and shamed her as a “single mom” and “white woman” for choosing to be with an “immigrant Mexican man.” He’d then gone on to expand on the word “immigrant Mexican” with a slew of crude racial slurs.
Laila was correct in that what he’d written wasn’t right, but being right didn’t come at the expense of being safe. The last thing Adrian wanted was her getting hurt trying to defend him.
“Everything I’ve encountered in life so far has taught me not to be a passive woman.” Her hand landed over his, and he instinctively turned his palm to connect with the warmth in her touch. “Whatever you and I are, Ramos, our few times together has meant something to me, and I care about you.”
The warmth from her hand seeped deep into his bones, spreading up his arm and into the space within his chest. He’d never seen anyone get so upset on his behalf, nor had he expected it from this enigmatic woman.
“If that’s true, then I need you to do what I’m asking.” As much as he wanted to use this opportunity to mirror her affection, military life had taught him to prioritize his tasks, and right now, that meant protecting this woman he fast fell for. “At some point, the situation in Harlow might call for you to put yourself first, Laila. I need you to do that, do you understand? Even at the expense of me. Something like tonight, it can’t happen again. You have to trust me on this.”
He turned to face her, and her eyes were wide pools denoting something between adoration and grief. Hoping to quell some of her pain, he reached out to touch the soft skin over her cheek. “We’ll find a way to deal with your more erratic neighbors. We’ll take down the syndicate, too. It’s all just going to take some time. So, until then, I need you to put yourself and Whitney first, otherwise I…”
He dropped his gaze away from her eyes, eyes that saw too much. Although maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Not if what she read from him right now was that he didn’t know what he would do if either of those two were hurt… Or worse.
Better for her to sense my feelings than to speak them out loud.
Something within him said she wasn’t ready for any of that, and perhaps their situation called for restraint, too.
“Yeah, I know.” He flinched at her voice, for a second there believing she really had read his mind, only for her small smile to indicate she merely referred to his order for her to stay safe. “I trust you, Adrian. I guess I just haven’t quite learned to let the extra nonsense slide.”
He gave a quick chuckle and breathed for the first time in what felt like far too long, tapping her chin with his knuckle to mark the lighter shift in mood. “I understand that, but maybe let me take the reins on this one.”
Her lip pulled higher on one side, and she shook her head with a laugh. “You realize letting someone do that goes against every fiber of my being?”
“Oh yeah, I see that. You don’t have much choice now with your arm all bound up like that.” He nodded down to her sling, and she growled, pressing her head back into the wall once more.
“This is going to suck real bad. You heard what the doctor said, no work or driving for the next two weeks. I know I’ll get through it, but I’d rather not have to.”
He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah, but did you hear the part where, with this being your first dislocation, you got the best-case scenario in needing just two weeks for the tissues in your shoulder to settle down?”
She snorted. “Yeah, still sucks though.”
He gave her that and let a comfortable silence fall between them, one where he allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts for a while. Predictably, his mind swung back to Laila’s strength and courage, to her tenacity and compassion in standing-up for him, even though that wasn’t the first course of action he would have wanted her to take.
The only other person to ever come close to having his back like that was Dean Holloway, and they’d been tight friends for over a decade ever since. He couldn’t help but wonder if his bond with Laila could be just as long-standing.
That said, he couldn’t ignore the clear battle she fought within herself. One of wanting to take on the world, yet not knowing how to step back and let someone else handle some of the struggle. Her trust in others was understandably tarnished. There was no saying whether she’d ever want to make room for him.
And because of her dented trust, and of what he’d recently unearthed about her ex-husband, Ramos fought an internal battle. One that caught him between hurting her with the truth or fostering potentially life-saving hope.
He squeezed her hand again, seeking comfort for himself more than anything else, then kept his voice quiet within this small corridor and its bright lights. “You know, I was thinking—”
“Now, that can’t be good.”
He laughed and gave her a gentle nudge. “Shush, you! I was thinking that once you’re healed, once all the syndicate stuff is sorted, we should go away somewhere. You, me, and Whitney.”
Despite his casual tone, his heart inexplicably sank in the silence before she spoke again.
“What do you mean?” She lifted her head off the wall and stared at him, tight-faced and holding a confused scowl. “Like a vacation?”
He gave a disingenuous shrug and forced a smile, because hidden behind his pretense of wanting to give her something to look forward to, was the potential for him to stick around. In Harlow. In her life. “Sure. Just the three of us. Preferably somewhere warm.”
Doubt flickered across her face in the form of her averted gaze, before she stared back at him, that doubt now vanishing beneath an easier mask. “Whitney’s never been on a holiday. If I can fit time in between work and study, that sounds like a great idea.”
A genuine slow light entered her eyes—like a woman releasing some long-standing belief, while still very much wanting to hold on—her pupils flashing their beautiful cornflower-blue. “And… I suppose I should consider us sheltering at Aggie’s place.”
He suppressed a jolt of surprise at her sudden change of heart, that she was actually willing to accept some help. “Even though you don’t want to?”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t. But Gerry’s stunt might be the beginning of something much bigger. Mom and Dad are targets too, so I can’t rely on staying at their place. I can’t let my stubbornness put Whitney at risk.”
He brushed a thumb against the back of her hand, then squeezed her palm within his in an offer of support. “Aggie’s cabin is in the middle of a large and isolated, fenced-off field. Whitney will have plenty of room to play, and people can’t simply wander over to your door like they can right now. I’ll set up surveillance systems and alerts, so we’ll spot anyone entering long before they get to the house.”
“We’ll?” She lifted a brow, her lips doing an inquisitive curl at the corners.
He smiled and gave an easy shrug fully aware he pushed his luck. “I mean, Gerry did single me out. You don’t want anyone coming after me too, do you?”
“Ha!” She threw her head back in a genuine laugh. “Somehow, I can’t imagine you being the ‘run and hide’ kinda guy.”
“You’re probably right about that.” He chuckled and took his hand back, though her face was quick to fall into a slackened and somber expression. “So, the offer isn’t really about protecting yourself, now, is it?”
His jaw muscles drew tight, and he likely mirrored her solemn look, the unspoken part of her question being that his presence would be about protecting her and Whitney. “Is that such a bad thing?”
She stared at him for a while and the strain around her eyes softened. “Not bad, no. Just... a huge leap of faith.”
He paused before caving to his instinct to jump in with a reply, weighing his words carefully because, even though she had every right to doubt him, he didn’t want her to doubt him at all. Not after all they’d been through already. Certainly not in light of where his feelings for her were determined to go.
“So, let’s look at it this way.” Seeking to instill confidence, he sat a little taller and kept his tone sure. “Your new injury means you won’t be leaving the house much for some weeks anyway, and when you do return to work, your parents can resume babysitting duties at the cabin. I’ll never be alone with Whitney, if that’s something you’re concerned about, and there’ll still be times when I’ll be busy working.”
“Right, you’ll have your life and I’ll have mine.” She pressed her lips into a thin line and gave a resolute nod. “Got it.”
A hospital staff member stepped out from an adjoining corridor marked ‘Radiology’ and called Laila’s name. She shot to her feet, taking a few quick steps toward the corridor, only to pause and smile back at him. “Looks like tomorrow will be filled with catching up on sleep and packing my bags.”