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I need her, too. The longer I stay far from her side, the emptier the world feels. Such a weird feeling.
Raylin is saying something, and I look up. “What?”
She comes closer, and I see the words form on her lips, “I said, ‘Aren’t you happy, Hawk? Happy you’ll become a daddy?’”
I am. There’s no stopping the grin spreading on my face, and Raylin giggles, then throws her arms around me and gives me a quick hug.
“I knew it. I knew you’d love it,” she says breathlessly, her eyes shining when she draws back. “Go tell her that. Tell her you love her, that you’re sorry, and for God’s sake, don’t go and get yourself killed, okay? Stay and protect them. Love them.”
Everything she says goes against my grandfather’s words. And everything in me wants to do what she says.
“I haven’t told anyone about this yet,” Raylin says. “It’s your announcement to make, but I’m sure the guys will be so happy for you, too.”
Nodding, I step past Raylin and start toward the bedroom and my future.
I’ll talk with Layla. Being together means joint decisions. It means discussing this together before I leave.
Before anything else.
***
My future is unclear. And that’s because Layla isn’t there. I mean, why should she be waiting for me, right? I was godawful to her, and then I walked out and sat in a meeting with Lopez instead of running back here and apologizing. Talking to her.
Fuck.
I check the bedroom, the bathroom, even the walk-in closet. Nada.
So I head back out and walk through the mansion, looking for her. She’s not in the TV room, or the kitchen. She’s not in the patio, or by the pool. I walk along the tennis court, cursing inside, the wind whipping my hair across my face.
“Layla? Where are you?” She has to be somewhere on the grounds. She’s probably nearby—so why do I feel cold in the pit of my stomach? Like it’s too fucking late? “Layla!”
Thirty minutes later, I’m back in the house and sick with worry. What if something has happened to her? What if she passed out somewhere, what if she fell and hit her head? Or hurt the baby? Or—
“Hawk, where did you go?” Rook is scowling at me from the living room door, the ever-present glass of scotch in his hand. I need to talk to him about that, he’s drinking too much—but that’s not my priority right now.
“Have you seen Layla?”
“No, man. Wasn’t she with you?”
“Fuck. No, and I’ve looked everywhere for her.”
“You’re worried.” Rook knocks back the rest of his scotch. “She’s here somewhere, buddy. You know that. She can’t leave. Storm’s orders.”
“I’m fucking serious, man. I can’t find her, and what if something happened to her? She’s been dizzy all these days, and…”
And now I know why. Neither Storm nor Rook know about Layla’s pregnancy, and dammit, I wanted to talk to her first, before telling everyone else.
This is so fucked up. Because I’m slowly getting so fucking excited—about the baby, about being with Layla, about the pieces of my life finally falling into place—and because I screwed up and may be the reason Layla may be lying hurt somewhere, hiding from me.
“Breathe, Hawk. We’ll find her.” He grabs my arm and shakes me. “Okay? We’ll find her. She can’t be far.”
But as it turns out, he’s wrong.
***
“Not on the premises? What the fuck does that mean?” Storm isn’t amused.
Then again neither am I. “The fucking chopper is gone, and so is she. Didn’t you tell your pilots nobody is to leave here?”
