Alpha Billionaire Series

HOLDEN

Guilt ate around the edges of my pain. I had lashed out at Makenzie, the one person who actually had wanted to help me. That fall hurt a lot. And it had opened old wounds I would have sworn were sealed over with scar tissue.

She didn't deserve to be treated like that.

I was always saying her brother was an asshole when the truth was. I was one too. And maybe even a bigger one, because I had lashed out on purpose.

I made it back to my car and sat for a while before I asked to be taken home. The pain had zapped me of my strength in way that no one had prepared me for.

Instead of lashing out at the thoughtless tourist who had nearly crashed into me, throwing me off my balance, I yelled at Makenzie.

The words streaming out of my mouth had relieved some of my frustration, but the look on Makenzie's face had not been worth it. But instead of taking everything back as soon as I uttered the words, I doubled down and made everything worse.

I hit my head on the back of the car seat. I was such a f***g a*****e. It wasn't her fault she had moved on, and I hadn't. At home, I leaned heavily on the cane to help me limp into the house.

I hated to rely on pain medication this far into recovery, but the spill after that asshole on the bike practically ran me over had me thinking about taking something stronger than a few ibuprofens.

I chased the meds down with a cold soda. I no longer kept beer in the house, not after I accidentally washed a heavy-duty pain pill down with a beer. Nothing had gone wrong, but it could have so easily gone sideways. I could be a real idiot, like how I had been with Makenzie this afternoon.

She was still so beautiful. It hurt to remember how she felt in my arms.

I had been a complete dick to her. And she was just trying to help.

I closed my eyes and tried to focus. AllI could see was her face, her little chin, and her big eyes. The Makenzie I saw in my vision was the one I had in my bed all those times, too many years ago. She always looked up at me with sparkling eyes and a slightly pouty mouth with lips swollen from my kisses and a flush on her cheeks. She was the vision I had when I closed m, eyes and had good dreams.

Ilet out a heavy sigh and crushed my palms against my temples. Maybe moving on had been her only option. Maybe moving on was what I needed to do. I would always have my visions of Makenzie, and my memories of her. And I need to be content with that now that I knew I would never be able to have her again.

She lived on the island now. I wasn't going to be able to avoid her. Not unless I left the island, and I wasn't exactly in a position where I wanted to do that. What I needed to do was man up and accept that she was married and had a child.

I knew how to be an adult. I had been in and out of combat situations. I navigated danger and yet nothing felt quite as perilous as how I needed to navigate my future around Makenzie and her little family.

At no point had coming home gone the way I had ever pictured it. Both of my parents were supposed to be alive. Makenzie would have waited for me, and we would have had a tearful yet sexy hot reunion. That's not what happened at all.

Why did I ever think that my life would allow me to come back and have everything stay the same?

let myself drift off to sleep. My body needed the rest. I needed to heal. My heart might never recover, but there was no reason why my leg and arm couldn't.

I woke up the next morning, still in the recliner I had fallen asleep in. I was sore and stiff, but everything felt about a thousand times better.

I got to my feet and limped up to my room. I put on running shorts and the compression socks that helped to hide the worst of my scars. Breakfast was a power bar and another few ibuprofen tablets.

In my head I was about to hit the beach and go for a run. What really happened probably looked a lot more like a drunken stumble to anyone watching as I hobbled along with my cane. I probably wasn't supposed to be doing this but fuck it. If I didn't power through, how else was I supposed to improve?

Back at the house, I had an old set of weights. I knocked the worst of the dust off and got to work. I had lost so much strength in my hand and arm. I did a few reps with my good arm just to prove that I could. I could barely wrap my left hand around the handle of the weight, there was no way I could rotate my arm into proper form with my palm facing up as I woul need to work on bicep curls.

With a scream, I dropped the weight.

Working out had always been my primary method of blowing off my frustration and thinking through problems. Running, weights, had all been ways of getting the clarity I needed. That wasn't happening today, or any time soon.

After taking a shower I changed into the long pants and long sleeves I had started wearing to cover the big red scars down my lower leg, and on both sides of my left arm. Under those scars were the pins holding me together.

Isucked in my breath as I limped into Dad's old office. I didn't exactly know where to start first. This room held years of business deals and wealth management. He had taken over his father's business, made some important changes, and taken the business in a very lucrative yet highly specialized direction.This is from NôvelDrama.Org.

My memories of this room were limited to my father always sitting behind the impressive mahogany desk that now faced me down and dared me to rifle through its drawers.

I wasn't going to be intimidated by a hunk of wood. I sat at the desk and took a moment. From this perspective, I saw what my dad had seen. There was no profound insight, I didn't suddenly understand business concepts. I wasn't mystically channeling my father letting me know what drawers could be cleaned out, and shredded, and what paperwork should be shipped off to the lawyers.

I opened and closed drawers, still no hint of what I should or shouldn't be doing.

The phone rang. I stared at the old handheld phone that sat on Dad's desk. There was no caller ID, no fancy buttons.

“Hello”

“Holden Wells?"

“Yeah, how can I help you?"

“My name is Penny Smith. I'm calling from the legal department at corporate.”

The call couldn't have been timelier had I scheduled an appointment.

“I've been tasked with reaching out to discover what your plans were for stepping into your father's position?”

“About that," I let out a heavy breath. I was not in a position currently to step into my father’s shoes. “I'm still in recovery. Th board is managing perfectly well without me. 'm confident they will continue to do so. I need to ask you a question. Not sur if I need to speak with you, or if you need to pass me along’

“I'll do my best. What do you need?”

I explained my situation. I was in an office full of records, and I wasn't familiar enough with any of it to safely and legally make the call about what needed to be saved.

“I can definitely help with that. I will arrange to have some banker boxes shipped to you. If you could box everything up, and let me know when you're ready, I'll have a courier arranged to pick them up.’

Ifelt a sense of relief when I got off the phone. A major weight was off my shoulders. Dad's paperwork was handled. There was still plenty to go through in his office. The shelves behind his desk were covered in books and old trophies. I was going to need something to sort all of this stuff into. I took a break and headed into town. There had to be an office supply store on the island that sold boxes.