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Safer than most.
“Yeah, I guess so.” He offers me a one shouldered shrug. “But the pay is good, you know? And since I don’t have anyone waiting at home for me, what does it matter?”
He matters.
Can I tell him that he matters to me?
I would love to, but I don’t think the timing is right.
“Tell me about Rickie,” he asks as he swims a little closer to me. “And your family. I want to understand the dynamics there. It’ll help me protect you more.”
I sigh heavily. I don’t want to ruin this moment by saying anything about my issues right now, but I do want to be safe.
“My dad needs me to marry Rickie to strengthen bonds and to ensure he remains at the top. Where he likes to be best. He says I don’t do much for the family because I don’t want to dive head first into a life of crime. That isn’t for me at all.”
“Oh, God.”
Owen looks shocked by this, as if it isn’t the life of everyone born into the mob.
“Yeah, getting married is basically the only thing he thinks I can do. Which is why I hate to let him down, but Rickie really is a bad guy. One of the worst. He’s an alcoholic, a womanizer, abusive, someone who would treat me like shit if I married him. I keep trying to tell my dad that, but he doesn’t seem to want to hear it. He’s focused only on what this will do for him.”
I meet his eyes, wondering if this is the moment I can find out the truth.
“So, is that why I’m here? Are you the hired hand of my dad or Rickie Flynn Junior?”
He doesn’t answer me.
I don’t know why I’m surprised.
He dives under the water instead, appearing a little closer to me, splashing me, playfully.
The surprise makes me laugh, and Owen joins in.
I do love the sound of his laughter, it’s always made me feel special and sweet.
“I like hearing you laugh, Owen.”
Oh.
I wasn’t really planning on saying that, but the words came out of me regardless.
Owen’s expression softens.
We stare at one another, our eyes betraying everything that it seems we’re both too afraid to say aloud.
Feelings are definitely growing between us… there’s something there, we’re falling for one another.
But there are huge obstacles to that.
There’s no way of knowing how this is going to end.
“I like your tattoo,” I say just to shatter the tension a little. “This little jagged one.”
“Oh my best friend did that on base,” he tells me as I run my fingers along it. “A dare. He got the same one. I know it doesn’t look like it, but it’s supposed to be the Afghan skyline that we were looking at every single day when we were at that particular camp. That was during my first tour, and I have a lot of surprisingly good memories from that time.”
My fingers run along to his scars. “Did your friend get scars like this fighting in the military as well?”
He nods just the once, just a little short, sharp bob of the head, before he wraps his arms around me and we share an unexpected, earth shattering intimate kiss. One that really does steal the air from my lungs, and causes me to forget about all the questions I was thinking of asking.
