“You don’t have a choice. I’ll be delivering you a package. In fact, it will be there within the hour. I think you’ll see things my way once you get it. Don’t call me. I’ll call you.” With that, she ends the call.
My hands shake as I place the receiver back on the base. I can’t believe she found me, and what is this nonsense that I’ve been making her money? I have no idea what she could be sending me, but I feel like I’m going to be sick. I hate her. I know that hate is a strong word, and I shouldn’t hold the feeling in my heart, but… I. Hate. Her.
My only saving grace is that Owen is out of the office today. I focus on taking deep, even breaths, willing my heart to slow its rhythm. My concentration is shit, and there is no point in trying to get anymore work done today. The whooshing sound of the elevator doors opening has me standing and watching as a young guy, who can’t be older than eighteen if that, approaches my desk.
“I have a delivery for Layla Massey.”
“I’m Layla,” I tell him.
He hands me the package. “This is for you.”
“Thank you. Um, can you tell me who sent you?”
“No, ma’am. I work for a courier service. I just get the packages and the name and address for delivery. Have a great day.” He waves. I stand and watch until the elevator doors close, shutting him in before my eyes go to the letter-size envelope sitting on the corner of my desk.
With shaking hands, I retrieve the envelope and slowly tear it open, pulling out the contents. It takes me a minute to decipher what I’m looking at. Once I figure it out, my stomach rolls. With the envelope and its contents clasped tightly in my hands, I rush for the restroom and lose the contents of my stomach.Chapter 25OwenAfter our meeting yesterday, Royce, Grant, and I called Conrad and Marshall, inviting them for drinks. Finally, after months of negotiations, we were able to close the deal to buy the small trucking outfit just east of Nashville. The company wasn’t a huge competitor, but they were a competitor. A drink was in order, and it’s been months since the five of us got together for a beer. I forgot how much fun hanging out with my brothers was. We don’t do it nearly enough, and I told them so. They all looked to be surprised by my admission, but we agreed to make sure we get together more often.
It was late when I got home, and Layla was already sound asleep. It was nice knowing she was at home waiting for me. I slid in bed next to her, pulled her into my arms, and slept like a baby. All was right in my world, until the light of day, and there isn’t a doubt in my mind that something is going on with her. She’s been quiet all morning and barely touched her breakfast. It’s not just that the smile that’s usually shining at me every day is gone.
“You okay?” I ask once we’re in the car and on our way to the office.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“You seem off.”
“I have a headache.”
“Why didn’t you say something? What can I do?” I glance over at her before turning my eyes back to the road.
Another smile, this one genuine but still pained. “Nothing. I just have to wait it out.”
“Do you get them a lot?” It’s been a few months since she moved to Nashville with me, and this is the first time I’ve heard of her having a headache.
“I used to get them all the time. It’s been years, but when I do, it takes days to kick it.”
“I’m going to call and get you into the doctor,” I tell her.
“No, Owen, I’m fine. I just took some over-the-counter medicine. I’ll be fine.”
“If you’re not better by tonight, we’re going to the doctor,” I tell her.
“Owen.” She reaches over, placing her hand on my thigh. Her touch goes a long way to soothe my fears about her being sick. I couldn’t survive anything happening to her. “It’s a headache. I’ll be fine.”
I don’t argue with her, that’s the last thing she needs, but I’m sticking by my demand that if she's not better, we go see a doctor. “We’re out of the office again today,” I remind her. “Marshall will be there if you need anything.”
“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“I know that, but you have a family who loves you, that includes my brothers.”
“I know,” she says, her voice cracking.
“We should go home,” I say, not sure leaving the office and not being close to her today is the right choice. “You’re upset.”