Final Offer (Dreamland Billionaires #3) by Lauren Asher

My smile slips.

“We’re a small town here. When one of us hurts, we all do.” She tilts her head in the direction of a man gliding into the diner on an electric wheelchair. “When Fred struggled to afford a new wheelchair, we all chipped in to buy him a fancy electric one.” She points her pen at a woman wiping the countertop with a rag. “Betsy there married a rich out-of-towner with a heavy fist and the inability to understand the word no. And do you know what we did to him?”

“Chopped him up into little pieces and spread his remains across the forest?”

Her lips twitch. “We wish. Wyatt and the new sheriff keep us in line, so we were forced to go about things the legal way. Drove him out of town by hiring a fancy lawyer from the big city. Everyone pitched in to pay the fee, and it was worth every penny because now Betsy and her kids are free to live their lives.”

I swallow hard. “That’s good.”

“Bottom line is that we look after our own here. If Alana doesn’t want you around, then who are we to make you feel comfortable?”

My lips press together.

“It’s no sweat off our backs after we saw what happened to Alana the last time you left.”

Fuck.

My stomach rolls, the acid climbing up my throat.

You need to get out of here.

My eyes flicker to the door.

Isabelle steps into my eye line, forcing me to look up at her.

“We’re the ones who had to watch Alana struggle with heartbreak the last time you left. She stopped going out, lost weight, and barely spent time around anyone besides her mama and two best friends. It was like she was fading away before our very eyes. Not that she would ever tell you that because that girl is too sweet for someone like you.”

Desperation to escape claws at my throat. I reach for the flask in my pocket, only to pause when Isabelle catches the movement.

Her brow arches. “I’m not sure why you’re back or what you want with our girl, but the whole town will be watching closely. One slipup and you will wish you never returned.”

My tongue feels heavy against the roof of my mouth. “I’m not here to hurt her.”

“For your sake, you better hope not. I’ll be back with a water.” She turns away, leaving me to process everything she said.

My eyes screw shut as I fight the urge to take a sip from my flask.

You don’t need to drink every time someone says something you don’t like.

My hands tremble against my lap.

Alcohol won’t change your reality.

I’m not looking to change it, but rather cope with it. Yet no matter how many deep breaths I take or what I tell myself, Isabelle’s words poison my chances of making it through my meal without drinking.

She was fading away before our very eyes.

The acid in my belly bubbles with each reminder of how much Lana struggled after I left. How she struggled to live because of me.

Did you really expect her to move on from one day to the next?

No, but I wanted more for her than me and my issues.

I pull the flask out and take a swig before tucking it back into my pocket.

My phone vibrates.

Iris

Hey! How was your day?



About as good as I expected. What are you up to?



Her text comes back a minute later after Isabelle stops by to take my order.

Iris

Watching Declan cook dinner.



At least one of us is having a home-cooked meal tonight.

You sound jealous.

Maybe because I am. Not of Iris and Declan per se, but of how my situation compares to theirs. I know it’s not right. It makes me feel sick to be anything but happy for them. But there is this part of me—one I rarely like to acknowledge—that wishes I had what they had.

I want to be happy. I try so damn hard, yet no matter how big I smile or how loud I laugh, I always feel empty. It’s a cold, creeping feeling that consumes me late into the night, until I’m forced to welcome my old frenemy.

Addiction.

My phone buzzes from an incoming text.

Iris

He just burned himself taking the bread out of the oven and then proceeded to curse in five different languages.



My sadness dissipates with a laugh.

Shouldn’t you be helping him?



Iris

We’re a modern couple, Cal. He cooks. I watch. He cleans. I also watch.



Is that the key to a successful marriage?



Iris:

That and a big dick.



I choke on my sudden inhale of air.

“I thought it was you sitting here but I wanted to make sure.”

I look up at Wyatt, whose body casts a shadow over my phone. His dark hair peeks out from underneath his deputy hat, teasing the edge of his uniform collar.

“Wyatt.” My teeth grind together.

He tips his hat like a gentleman, tempting me to knock it off his head. “I heard you were back.”

“Alana told you?”

He shakes his head. “Cami.”

Of course she did. “What do you want?”

“Just thought I would stop by and give you a warm Lake Wisteria welcome.”

I cock a brow. “Is there such a thing?”

“Everyone here is good people.”

“So long as you don’t piss them off,” I grumble.

The crackle of Wyatt’s cop radio interrupts us, and he adjusts the volume with a quick turn of the knob. “Speaking about that…I wanted to warn you to stay away from Alana and Cami.”