Final Offer (Dreamland Billionaires, #3)(93)

By the time I threw away the last bag of trash, Lana was already moving on to Cami’s bedtime routine.

I hold off on bothering her until an hour later. When I turn the doorknob, it doesn’t move.

I press my forehead against the door and sigh. “Lana.”

“Go away. I’m tired.”

I can only imagine. After spending most of the day hosting Cami’s party, I’m surprised she isn’t asleep already.

My hand remains glued to the knob. “Can we please talk?”

“No.”

“I’m begging you to give me a few minutes of your time.”

Her groan comes out muffled due to the door between us. “I have nothing nice to say to you right now.”

“Then tell me the not-so-nice things.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d rather you get angry at me than shut me out. I don’t think I could take that again.” It seems impossible to go back to the way things were before. I’m not sure I would be able to live in the same house like that, knowing how good things could be between us if I had my shit together.

“You want to fight? Fine. Let’s fight.” She drags me inside and shuts the door.

I hold up my hands. “I knew it was wrong.”

She crosses her arms. “Then why do it?”

My head drops. “Because I couldn’t help it. Being around everyone…knowing what they probably think of me… It was too much all at once.”

Her eyes shut as she takes a few deep breaths. “I can’t take this up and down again, Cal. I just can’t.” Her voice cracks, matching the one that forms across my heart. “I can’t make you want to get sober. And honestly, I don’t want to be your reason for quitting alcohol in the first place. It didn’t work the last time, and it’s not going to this time because something like that needs to come from deep inside. And until it does, you will never get better. That much I know.” She releases a heavy exhale. “I’m willing to support you through your journey to get sober—I always have been and I always will be—but only if you are willing to put in the hard work that it takes to find better ways to manage your feelings.”

All the progress I’ve made with Lana up until this point slips through my fingers.

I swallow past the thick lump in my throat. “I can choose to be sober.” I just need time. As much as I want to take Wyatt up on his offer to attend the local AA meetings, I can’t do that until I go to rehab first. I’ve been through the process enough times to know what I need, and daily AA meetings aren’t going to cut it right now.

Her lips lift into a small, reassuring smile that cuts me more than any of her words. “I know you can. I never stopped believing in you, even when you gave up on yourself.”

I clutch her hands and tuck them against my pounding heart. “Please give me until we sell the house to get help. That’s all I ask.”

My hope deflates with a single shake of her head.

“Please.” I press her palm against my cheek, drawing her eyes toward my pleading ones. “I want to be someone you can count on. I really fucking do, but I can’t commit to going back to rehab until the house is sold.” Desperation bleeds through my voice.

The process of combing through my past and working through my shit will knock me on my ass for weeks or maybe more, and I’m not ready for that kind of emotional pain until I meet my grandfather’s deadline.

You mean the deadline for an inheritance that you haven’t even told her about?

My stomach churns, guilt clawing its way up my throat.

You could tell her.

No, the voice of reason speaks up.

Telling Lana about my grandfather’s will could risk everything, and I didn’t go through all this trouble to prove I’m a failure yet again.

One day, I’ll be able to tell her all about the inheritance, but today isn’t that day—no matter how sick to my stomach I feel by withholding the truth.

Her gaze pins me in place. “Who cares about selling the house?”

“I do.” My voice cracks.

Her lips purse with distaste.

You’re losing her all over again.

“Why?” she asks.

“Because I made a commitment to selling it and I can’t back down.” My throat feels as if someone wrapped their hand around it and squeezed.

“A commitment to who?”

“Myself.” I speak with absolute honesty.

“What?”

“You have lots of happy memories in that house, and while I do too, it’s not enough to make me want to keep it. Not by a long shot.”

She visibly swallows. “Why not?”

“Because it reminds me of some of the worst moments of my life. The mother I lost. The father who no longer exists. A grandfather who abandoned me when I needed him.” I take a deep breath. “I don’t think I could ever truly move forward with my life with that house still hanging over my head.” The words I speak are completely true, yet they still feel like a lie.

You’re doing this to protect your brothers and their futures.

If I’m doing the right thing, then why does it feel so shitty?

Her head shakes. “If you’re serious about us, then you’d go and get help before this gets worse, regardless of needing to sell a house. I refuse to watch history repeat itself—for me and for my daughter.”