Page 52 of The Billionaire I Left Behind

I start to take a step back, needing air, needing distance, but then Jen’s voice rings out from behind us. “You two are a picture perfect!”

Bryan chuckles, glancing up at her with an easy smirk. “Buddy’s the star here,” he quips, rubbing the dog’s head again.

But me? My throat tightens. Because it’s not just Buddy they’re talking about.

I force out a laugh, trying to brush it off, but my heart’s still hammering as I grab the leash and start toward the checkout.

Bryan catches up, his gaze flicking toward me. “Are you okay?”

I nod too quickly. “Fine. Just… ready to go.” He doesn’t push, but I can feel his curiosity. The way his eyes linger. Like he knows something shifted.

And maybe, just maybe, he’s right.

***

I manage to get through the rest of the week without any major discussions with Bryan, both of us wrapped up in our own business world needs. The lamp flickers, casting long shadows across my bedroom walls. It smells like lavender and old paper in here; the quilt bunched around my legs keeping me warm against the cool ocean air drifting through the window. Buddy lets out a soft snore at my feet, twitching in his sleep, his paws kicking like he’s chasing something in his dreams.

It does still make me smile that Buddy choses my room for his overnight sleeps. When I tease Bryan about it, he is so nonchalant. He won’t give me the satisfaction of even considering looking sad or childishly envious. No, he just tells me he sends him in toprotect me.

Right. Sure.

I run a finger over the scattered notes on my bed, clinic budgets, estimates, sponsorship breakdowns all marked with quick, neat scribbles. $5,000. The number sits heavy in my mind, a constant reminder that no matter how much I try to move forward, some things still have a hold on me.

Sighing, I shove the papers aside and reach for a worn leather-bound book half-buried under the stack. Grandma’s journal. The edges are soft from years of handling, the spine loose, the pages yellowed with time.

I don't know why I suddenly feel the need to open it now, but something about today, about Bryan’s laughter in the mall, the way his presence feels less like an ache and more like something steady, has me flipping through the pages.

I skim over old entries, weather notes, garden updates, town gossip until one catches my eye. The date punches the air from my lungs. The day I left town.

My hands tighten on the book, my breath catching. The ink is slightly smudged, like she wrote it in a hurry or with shaking hands.

“I see it, clear as the tide coming in, those two are stitched together, no matter how much time and space stretch between them. Emma’s leaving and my heart aches, but I know this isn’t the end. Bryan’s too much a part of her. Maybe time will teach them what I couldn’t.”

I swallow hard. She knew.

My fingers tremble as I trace the words. She saw it even when I couldn’t when I told myself leaving was for the best, when I spent years convincing myself he’d forget, move on. But Bryan hadn’t been the only one left behind. She had waited for me to come back. She had hoped. And now…

My mind flashes back to today … Bryan’s easy grin as he teased Buddy, the way he glanced at me like he was memorizingsomething he hadn’t let himself look at in a long time. The way his

And worst of all, the way it felt like home again. I press the journal to my chest, heart racing. Is that what she wanted? For us to find our way back? Something cracks inside me, splintering through the walls I’ve built since coming home.

Because she’s right. He is a part of me. And no matter how much I fight it, I feel it every time I catch his scent of that unmistakeable cedar, every time I catch him watching me like he’s trying to understand this pull just as much as I am.

But what if I let myself believe in this and it all falls apart? The debt still lingers, a shadow curling around the edges of my thoughts, keeping me tethered to reality. There’s not much left for personal spending. Not much left for me. The clinic needs to come first. My future must come first.

But… what if he’s part of it? My phone dings, shattering my thoughts. My stomach lurches as I grab it off the nightstand, pulse hammering in my ears. Another debt text? Another reminder of what’s still holding me down?

I fumble with the screen, but it stays dark. My fingers tighten around the phone just as a knock sounds at the door.

“Emma?” Bryan’s voice. Low. Steady. Close.

I freeze; the journal still pressed against me. Do I open the door? I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my heartbeat to slow.

Because I know, if I do, if I let him in even an inch more, there’s no turning back.

Chapter sixteen

Bryan

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