Cole

* * *

There were benefits to being a billionaire. I didn't worry about having a roof over my head or food on the table. The health and well-being of my parents, sisters, and nieces and nephews was secure.

And whenever I needed to make a call without the benefit of mobile service, I had a satellite at the ready.

With a secure connection in place, I explained my issues with that TechToday click-bait bullshit to my acting CEO and PR team. There was none of my usual Scream, Fire, or Throw. Not when I was fighting to keep the tears out of my voice.

Apparently, the newer, calmer Cole was absolutely terrifying because they were snapping to attention and suggesting every countermeasure imaginable, short of putting a hit on the journalist. The acting CEO was even amenable to my proposals, and that right there was progress.

For all that I could solve with money, there were several things I couldn't. One of them—my grumpy, growly bear—was somewhere in Jericho Bay by now. Knowing Owen, he'd sooner tuck his big body into the Sweet Carolyne's cramped quarters and spend an uncomfortable night at sea than risk seeing me again.

He wasn't wrong. I hadn't shown myself worthy of his presence, not when I'd let months pass without telling him everything. There were opportunities to put it all on the table, and I should've ignored his request to the contrary. I pushed him to be honest and real with Annette, even when staying hidden was the easiest route. I should've taken some of my own advice. Instead, I usually seized those opportunities to suck his dick or get bent over the kitchen table. I always wanted him wrapped around me, and I knew talk of my other life wouldn't give me that. I knew it would come between us because it came between me and everything.

But that didn't mean I was accepting it, not this time. Not with Owen.

I sat on the dock for hours, long after the sun had slipped past the horizon. The lighthouse blinked out a golden beam, a silent reminder that I wasn't alone in watching over the water. My ass was sore and my heart was heavy, but I was staying right there until Owen returned.

When the boat's light cut through the darkness, an hour or two before dawn, I found him staring at me, his gaze hard and hurt.

"I told you to leave," he yelled from the deck. He turned away, busying himself with lines and buoys.

"That's tough shit, Owen," I called as he stepped onto the dock. "We need to talk."

He froze, his fists on his hips and his head hanging low. "Please," he said, his voice strained. "I can't do this."

I wrapped my hand around his bicep and pulled him close. "I fucked up and I was wrong but I love you, and you can't just toss me back into the sea."

Sighing, Owen looked out at the dark waters of the cove. "Your life…it's not here."

One of his greatest powers was his stoicism. He could hear my most sacred, private words and respond with little more than an impatient exhale. A blink. But I knew him, and I knew there was more to him than that. He wanted to be loved as much as I did, and he wanted me to keep pushing. His walls might be tall, but I wasn't afraid of the climb.

"It can be," I said.

That caught his attention, but holy Jesus, I wanted to hold him tight when he gave me that sad, pouty bear face.

"I mean that. I can stay. My life can be anything I want it to be. Anything we want."

His eyebrow winged up, unconvinced. "It seems that you're needed back in Silicon Valley."

"I'm not going back to the Valley, at least not permanently. I kinda hate it there." I shrugged, and he continued watching me with what are you talking about? eyes. "They'll be fine without me, and I can build apps to make working remotely more seamless." I dropped my hands to my waist, my hip cocked. "There's also the issue of my boyfriend living in Maine, and long distance just won't work for us."

"Then…what are you going to do?" he asked.

I brought my palm to the back of his neck. "Being here helped me realize that I didn't like managing the business. I'd always known, but…it was the only thing I had, you know? Now I know I'd rather mess around with crazy ideas and fix wonky code issues, and none of that requires me to spend any time in the office. I can do it anywhere, as long as I'm with you."

Owen didn't say anything for a long, painful minute where I was more interested in drowning myself than having him turn me away again. But finally—fucking finally—he wrapped his arm around my waist and dropped his head to my shoulder. "This probably means you're going to want that Wi-Fi stuff in the house now, huh?"

I laughed and rubbed my hand down his back. "I installed it in July," I said.

He lifted a shoulder but didn't respond immediately. "I let myself think this would work out, you know, with us. That I could ignore your life before me, and we could live in this little bubble. Then I saw that magazine, and…" He sighed, and that warm puff set off a ripple of goose bumps over my neck. "And I felt like a fool. That's why I wanted you to leave. Not because I didn't want you."

His words were the sharpest arrows.

"I mean it, Owen. I'm so sorry. Tell me how I can make it up to you."

"No more secrets," he murmured. "And you could say yes when I ask you to marry me."

"Yes," I said. "Yes now, and yes always."