Page 51 of Protecting his Heart

When Owen sat on the sofa, Evan fussed over him, but Owen grabbed his hand. “I’m fine, Evan. Just sit with me until it’s time for bed.”

So Evan did. And despite the silence, despite the darkness of the room, despite his mind replaying events of the day, he held his best friend, his boyfriend, and watched over him.

The day could’ve ended so differently, and he had to be glad of the result. Everyone had survived. He couldn’t ask for more than that. Even if he wanted to. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek against Owen’s head, listening to his breathing and reassuring himself several times that he was with him, alive and almost well.

And if he shed a few tears, who would know?

Owen was still with him.

And Owen loved him.

And Evan loved Owen.

They had their lives ahead of them, and Evan intended to spend it loving the man who had made him whole.

****

Chapter 16

Brett

Why was Brett still doing this job when it was just pain after problem after darkness after…everything that was not light and fluffy happiness?

He was sick and tired of having his men caught in the crossfire, and although it was their job to protect the royal family, lately it seemed to be focused more on his bodyguards. It was just a hunch, though. He had nothing concrete to substantiate his ever-flowing thoughts, but something wasn’t right.

He couldn’t even ask Felix to check anything because Brett had no idea what to search for. His gut was doing the talking, but it wasn’t telling him what the threat was, and that pissed him off.

“Boss,” the man himself said. “The police have been up and around the potential location of the shooter, but so far, they’ve found nothing. When things have died down a bit, I’ll hover around where Owen was hit and see if I can figure out the trajectory. They might be looking in the wrong place.”

“Or whoever it is has expert training in cleaning up their own messes and you won’t find a thing,” Brett said.

Felix glanced at him, a slight furrow in his brow. He opened his mouth, but Brett’s phone beeped. Brett glanced at it and sighed.

“We have half an hour before Christian and Oscar need to leave. Let’s make it count.”

Felix nodded and went back to his computers, and Brett watched him for a moment before reaching for the next set of paperwork he had to complete. Soon, he was going to have to choose whether he was a bodyguard or whether he was the boss. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take, not only the workload, but the painful reminders of those he lost. Every time someone went out into the field, there was the chance they wouldn’t return. Like Owen today. He was bloody lucky. An inch or two to the left, and he’d be dead. Like far too many others since Brett had taken over.

Would it be easier as just a bodyguard or would he beat himself up because he wasn’t the boss and taking control of the situation?

He sighed and focused on the paperwork. The answer would appear at some point. Either that or he would burn out and someone else would be making the choice for him.

****

Chapter 17

Owen

Concussion sucked.

To begin with, whenever he moved, his head pounded and swirled as if he was on a rollercoaster, his stomach joining in on the game. But with every hour that passed, it lessened. What remained was the sensitivity to light. Even sitting in the near dark and watching TV made his head ache and had him squinting. Evan reassured him, time and again, that he was just healing and it was the process, but Owen was fed up with it. He wanted to be back at work. He was bored. Never again would he complain about downtime, sitting outside the suite. Maybe.

By the time he reached the three-day mark, everything seemed better, although he was pissed that he’d had to miss Prince Douglas’s party the night before. Evan had said they could attend if he wanted, but Owen could see in his eyes that he wasn’t as sure as he sounded, so Owen had relented and stayed home. It was the right decision, but it didn’t stop it from sucking.

And the other thing that sucked? No sex. As much as he was horny, whenever he had coerced Evan to try something, his head had told him,fuck no, and he’d had to stop.

So, in all honesty, concussion fucking sucked.

Evan had even commented on how many times he’d used the word sucked in the last few days, but Owen couldn’t help it. There wasn’t a word strong enough to explain how shit it was, and he hadn’t swallowed a bloody thesaurus.

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