Bree

The moment the plane took off, I knew I’d made the wrong decision.

He asked me to stay.

Why the hell hadn’t I?

Because this is real life, and Owen Gallagher is a dream, a fantasy, and it’s best he stays that way. Where he can’t break my heart. Too bad it’s already shattering with every mile set between us.

I’m exhausted by the time the taxi drops me off in front of my apartment. After Chris showed me the videos of Owen and I on YouTube, all I want to do is crawl into bed and stay there until this whole mess blows over.

“Miss Walsh?” With wire-rimmed glasses magnifying his eyes to twice their size, a man approaches me.

I lug my bags towards the building, ignoring him.

“Are you Beatrice Walsh?”

Shit. This is one of the reasons I came back. To face the charges against me. But it doesn’t make it any less scary.

I turn, straightening my shoulders. “Yes.”

“You’re a hard woman to get a hold of. I’m Ted Davison. I represent Frank-”

“I know who you are.” Don’t panic.

The man frowns, but continues, pulling out a manila envelope from his brief case. “I’ve been trying to get this to you for months.”

“You can tell Frank that if he wants to take me to court, I’m-”

“Miss Walsh,” he says, interrupting me. “Frank passed away a few months ago.”

“What?”

“This is his will.” He hands me the envelope.

“His…will?”

He’s dead. Something almost like grief hits me, softened only by relief, and then hardened again by the guilt I feel for being grateful he can no longer hurt me. God, I’m a terrible person.

“He listed you as his sole beneficiary,” the man continues. “He left you everything.”

“I don’t understand.” He hated me. Hurt me. Had people try to track me down for years. Whenever I finally got settled somewhere, he’d find me and I’d have to move again. Why would he leave me anything?

The man sighs, sadness and regret clear in his gaze. “I knew Frank for a lot of years. He was an angry and sad man. But he loved you-”

“You have no idea how wrong you are.”

He smiles sadly. “There’s a letter in there. You should read it. Call me once you’ve gone through everything.” He starts to walk away, then says over his shoulder, “Oh, and Miss Walsh, congratulations.”

I frown at him.

“You’re a very wealthy young lady.”

My fingers feel numb as I fumble with my keys and open my apartment door. I sit down on my old couch and open the envelope. Most of the legal terms I don’t understand, but when I reach the value of Frank’s estate, I suck in a breath.

The lawyer wasn’t kidding.

Frank had always been cheap, never wanting to spend a dime more than he had to. I never imagined he had that much put aside. I doubt my mom did, either, because there’s no way she would have left him if she had known.

My fingers shake as I open the smaller envelope with my name scribbled in Frank’s rough handwriting, and I take a breath before starting to read it.

Beatrice,

I know you’ll probably never forgive me, and I don’t blame you. But you need to believe that I would never have hurt you on purpose. I loved you and your mom very much. But I wasn’t an easy man to live with. I’ve tried for years to find you. And if you’re reading this, then it means I failed. Failed to say I was sorry. Failed as the father figure I should have been. Failed to protect you the way you deserved. I can’t give you back what I took from you. But I can give you everything that I have. I may not have been your father, but you were the closest thing I had to a daughter, and I hope one day you’ll be able to find it in your heart to forgive me.

I let the letter fall to the table, tears blurring my vision.

Forgiveness. It’s not an easy thing. Especially not when the person is already gone.

It was the same when my mom passed. I hated her. But I still loved her. Not sure if I ever truly forgave her, though.

I realize it’s something I have to do now. Something I need to do if I’m ever going to be able to move on.

An overwhelming feeling of freedom swirls inside my chest.

Did Owen know? Is that what he was trying to tell me at the airport?

I’m still upset that he didn’t tell me he was checking into my past. But no matter how many walls I try to build around my heart, I know that, deep down, he never meant to hurt me.

I didn’t trust him with my secrets. How was he supposed to trust me?

My fingers fidget with the legal documents, my eyes scanning over the numbers again.

It’s enough money to start over.

To go anywhere.

But the only place I want to be is home.