Final Offer (Dreamland Billionaires, #3)(44)

I’m not sure who Trent is or what his connection is to my sister, but at least he paid his part of the rent. I can’t say the same about most of the men my sister has hung around with.

She keeps going. “I can’t stay here past June, and I don’t have anywhere else to go. It’s not like I want to head back to Lake Hysteria, but what other choice do I have? I won’t be there for long. I promise.”

My chest pinches.

Don’t you dare fall for her usual shit. Think about Cami.

“I’m sorry, Anto. That’s a sucky situation to be in—”

“But you won’t help me.” Her voice is sharper this time. My sister has always acted the same way, being sweet as flan de coco until she doesn’t get what she wants.

I shake my head. “It’s not fair to Cami.”

“Really? Or is it not fair to you?”

I suck in a breath. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s obvious you’re intimidated that Cami might not want you anymore if I come back around.”

I bite back a bitter laugh. “I’m not intimidated by you. Nothing you can do or say will change the fact that I’m her mother.” Anto made sure of that the day she signed away her parental rights and made me a mother of a premature baby who was saved from neonatal abstinence syndrome due to her preterm birth.

“You wouldn’t even be her mother if it weren’t for me, so how about you show a little gratitude?”

Anto’s harsh comment shouldn’t come as a shock, but the heavy disappointment that hits me does. I thought I was used to this kind of treatment. Yet despite all the pep talks I have given myself over the years, my sister’s words still have the ability to cut through me quicker than any blade.

It’s the people we love most who always hurt us the hardest.

It is hard for me to accept that this version of Anto is the same person who would wipe my tears whenever I cried, and hug me through entire thunderstorms because I was afraid of them. The sister I grew up with would never speak to me like this, which can only mean one thing.

She isn’t sober. She’s strung out.

The pain blooming over my heart pushes me to end this conversation before it gets worse. “I’ve got to get back to work. I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

“God, I forgot what a coldhearted bitch you can be. No wonder men are always running far away from you.” Her words penetrate with the power of a missile, blowing through my last bit of restraint.

“Bye, Anto.” I end the call and tuck my phone into the bottom drawer of my desk. My eyes prick, and I do everything in my power to hold the tears back. Rapid blinking. Not blinking at all. Fanning my eyes with my hands and then holding my head back to prevent them from falling.

Despite all my attempts, a single tear escapes in an act of betrayal. I swipe it away with angry fingers.

You will not shed another tear for her.

The chant seems to center me. I take a few deep breaths, lessening some of the weight pressing against my chest.

You made the right choice.

Yet no matter how many times I tell myself, it never feels like I did. And that’s what hurts me the most.





On sucky days like today, once Cami falls asleep, I hang out on the dock by myself. Ever since I was a kid, I found something calming about lying out on the planks and listening to the water slapping against the wood poles.

One of the wood planks underneath my sandals creaks, and a large shadow the size of a black bear moves at the end of the dock, striking the fear of God into me. I stumble, and the tip of my shoe catches on a half-exposed nail.

I go down hard. The baby monitor flies out of my hand and lands with a plop somewhere in the water. My palms slam into the wood, saving my fall, although the momentum from my landing pushes them forward. A piercing sensation of splinters breaking through my skin makes my eyes water.

“Ow.” Just when you thought today couldn’t get any worse.

“Shit! Are you okay?” Cal bolts from his spot, and I internally groan.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” I remain in the same position, too afraid to check out the damage on my palms. Thankfully, the leggings I chose prevent my knees from suffering a similar fate, although they ache from the blow.

The old planks creak under his heavy footsteps. He stops in front of me, and I look up at him from my position on my hands and knees.

Well, of all the positions to be caught in, this might be the worst.

The flush of my cheeks is hidden by the limited lighting.

“Do you plan on getting up or…?” Humor seeps into his voice. Shadows cling to the sharp edges of his jaw, drawing my eyes toward them.

“I think I’m good here. Feel free to head back to the guesthouse after giving me a heart attack.”

His raspy chuckle makes my stomach flutter.

You’re hopeless, Alana. Absolutely hopeless.

“Sorry for scaring you.”

“I thought you were a bear,” I hiss through clenched teeth as I sit back on my heels. I’m not sure how many splinters I have pressing into my palms, but it feels like hundreds.

“What’s wrong with your hands?”

Damn Cal and his ability to notice everything about me.

“Nothing. Just a couple of splinters.”