Page 119 of The Billionaire Who Saved My Cat From The Mafia

I think that man’s gone for good.

I spin onto my back, sit up, and throw the covers off my body.I can’t face the sight of my own bedroom, since I made love to Frankie in this bed, in this room—all over the damned house and in the pool and hot tub.There’s nowhere that doesn’t carry a memory of her.

Every minute I spent here with my beautiful Frankie—how she smelled and tasted; how she felt in my arms, under my hands, against my lips; the look in her eyes when I pushed every inch all the way up inside her—those moments can never be erased.Every single one is etched into my skin and spirit with the acid of grief.

I blink against the sun.There’s always arson, I suppose.I could spray gasoline on everything I own today, light a match, and burn it all to the ground.It’s not a crime if I don’t expect the insurance company to pay for the loss.

“Loss,” I say it out loud.“Pain,” I add.And then for good measure, I say, “Fuck everything.”

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and pull on my jeans and boots.I collect a rumpled shirt from the floor, not bothering to grab a clean one from my closet.Wow—I’m becoming Declan.That terrifies me.

I rake my fingers through my hair and take a piss, then grab my hat from the hook before I walk out my front door.I step onto my gravel drive to see Cal and Victoria watching me from across the lane.They look concerned, which infuriates me.I don’t deserve pity.

I’m a worthless piece of shit.I don’t want anyone to care about me.I just wish everyone would leave me alone.

The first few days after Frankie ran away from me, my family tried to cheer me up.They talked about how I needed to focus on gratitude and hold onto hope.They said good things were right around the corner for me.Sometimes, they even assured me that Frankie would return.

But she didn’t return.And that’s when the mood around here changed.My family can pivot, I’ll give ‘em that.Because overnight, they went from trying to cheer me up to trying to fix me.

Frankie doesn’t deserve a good man like me, they said.I am wonderful, they said.I deserve happiness and love,blah-blah-whatever.

And boy, howdy!Now it seems we’ve entered new territory:fuckin’ pity.

I ignore Cal and Victoria and hop in my truck.I need to put some distance between myself and anywhere Frankie ever was.I drive and drive until I decide I might as well head to the badlands that make up the far eastern part of the ranch.

The MacLaines own a thousand square miles of land, and I know every inch of it.But some regions don’t contribute to ranch operations for one reason or another.Access is impossible or there’s no grazing land or the surfaces are so uneven that they can’t even support a livestock shade structure.

The badlands are all of those things and more.Desolate and windy and dry as a popcorn fart.If there’s anywhere on this ranch that I won’t run the risk of seeing another living thing, it’s here.

I park, exit my pickup, and start walking.I know the spot I’m looking for isn’t very far, and after about twenty minutes, I see it—a flat sandstone butte at the edge of the earth.

I drop down and sit.Talk about silence.The only sound is the wind and the occasional call of a Red-tailed hawk or bald eagle.I close my eyes and breathe.In and out.The sun warms my face.

All I’m trying to do is sit with myself, and it’s not easy.I’m so filled with regret and sorrow that what I really want to do is unzip my own skin, crawl out, and disappear into a crevice.

I’ve seen good men go down a variety of paths trying to disappear from themselves.It happens to SEALs more than most would suspect.Drinking and drugs and sex and gambling are fairly standard.

I couldn’t do any of that shit even if I wanted to.It’s not who I am, and anyway, I can’t bring any more pain to my family than I already have.The biggest risk for me is working myself to death.

I laugh out loud at the thought, and the sound seems to echo forever.

It’s funny because the truth is, I haven’t done jack shit in ten days, and I mean exactly nothing.Not one single damn thing.I haven’t unloaded one bag of feed.I haven’t brushed DG or checked on a herd or fixed a fence or even discussed ranch operations with Cal or Joe.

Nada.

All I’ve done is sleep and eat and hide.It’s probably for the best.I know I’ve become insufferable, and everyone’s better off with me not showing my face.Who’d want to look at this worthless sad sack, anyway?

I stare out over the Native lands to the north and Travis Ranch lands to the east.As I slowly swivel my head, something begins to build, roil up through my solar plexus and seize my chest.The undercurrent of shame that’s been my shadow since Frankie left now rises into my throat.Strangling me.I can’t swallow.I can barely breathe.

I can’t tame this.I can’t shove it down and I can’t shake it off.Maybe I don’t because deep down I know I don’t deserve to.

I’ll survive this.I’ve survived everything—

It happens.The scream that comes out of me is like nothing I’ve ever heard.It’s the sound of a wild animal in pain.Visceral.Terrifying.

It’s anguish.

I fall on my side and curl into a ball.The sound of my own sobs is strange and at first, I can’t even identify what it is.It’s been a very long time since I cried.Seventeen years, to be exact, when my mother died.