Page 67 of The Billionaire I Left Behind

They’re messing with me, but they’re not wrong. Emma is in my head. She’s been in my head for weeks now.

I take a deep breath, trying to clear my thoughts as I step back from the green. The salty breeze from the ocean carries over the fairway, rustling through the neatly trimmed grass, but it does nothing to ease the tension coiling in my chest.

Ever since her confession about the debts, about why she left all those years ago, I haven't been able to shake it. The thought of her bearing that weight alone, struggling in silence, makes me feel something I don’t want to name. It’s a mix of frustration and regret.

She should have told me. But what gets me most? I should have seen it before she ever left. I grip my club tighter.

“Man, you’re really gone, huh?” Nate nudges me with his elbow. "I can see it. It’s over for you. You’re done fighting this."

I exhale through my nose, rubbing the back of my neck. What’s the point in denying it?He’s right. I am done fighting it.

My mind flashes back to that night, when she finally told me the truth. The way she looked at me, eyes filled with hesitation, vulnerability, regret. The way it hit me like a freight train, realizing how much pain she’d carried alone.

And then, the kisses. The way she feels in my arms. The way she trembles against me, like she isn’t sure if she should let herself believe in us again.

"Yeah," I mutter, running a hand over my jaw. "I’m done fighting it. I still like her,"

Liam whistles low. "Well now. He finally admits it."

Nate grins. "Took you long enough. Thought you’d keep playing the broody, emotionally constipated billionaire act forever."

"Shut up," I grumble, shaking my head. "I still don’t know where this is going. So, I'll still say there is nothing."

Nate shrugs, lining up his next shot. "Doesn’t matter. She’s in your head, and you’re in hers. That’s enough to start."

His words hit harder than I expect. Start. Can we? Can we actually start again?

I glance at my phone, tempted to send her a message, just to check in. Just to hear from her. To see if she’s thinking about me as much as I’m thinking about her.

Before I can, Nate speaks up again. "So, about the clinic, how’s that going?"

That snaps me out of my thoughts. "She likes the place you recommended."

"Yeah?" Nate lines up his shot, then pauses. "If she wants any input on renovations, let me know. I’ll help out."

Liam nods. "Same. If she needs anything, I got her."

That hits differently. Emma doesn’t have to do this alone anymore. Not this time. I nod, pocketing my ball. "I’ll tell her."

My mind drifts back to her, there is one more thing I still need to do.

"Also, Liam I need a favor. Can we talk about it once we’re done with the game?"

We move onto the next hole, but my mind isn’t on the game anymore. It’s on her. On us.

The past few weeks with Emma have been some of the best of my life. And suddenly, the idea of rebuilding what we had not just the house, not just the clinic, but us? It doesn’t seem impossible anymore.

***

The wrench slips in my sweaty grip. I huff out a breath, adjusting my stance as I tighten the last bolt on the swing’s frame. Themetal creaks slightly before settling into place, sturdy, polished, perfect.

I step back, wiping my forehead with the back of my hand, heart pounding harder than it should. For her.

The thought settles deep in my chest, heavier than expected but right. This isn’t just a restoration project. This swing, it’s us. A piece of the past I’m not willing to let fade.

I run my fingers over the wood, memories creeping in. Emma at fifteen, hair windblown as she laughed, feet kicking off the ground. I used to push her higher, teasing that one day she’d launch into the sky.

"You’ll always catch me," she’d said once, grinning at me like I was her whole world. I squeeze my eyes shut for a second.

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