Bachelor Swap, Lacey Black [best short novels txt] 📗

want you to be happy. If that’s here, great. If not, then I want you to sprout wings and fly.”

“But what if it takes me away from you?”

He smiles proudly. “Did you forget I’m about to sell my company? I was rather financially stable before, but this time tomorrow, I’ll be set for life. And the next one and the next one after that too,” he says, chuckling. “My point is, I can travel anywhere I want, and if that means flying to Timbuktu several times a year to visit my only daughter, then it’s a flight I’m willing to take.”

“That’s not fair to you. This is your home,” I argue, the tears burning beneath my eyelids.

“I can make a home wherever. I want to travel more and see the world through fresh eyes and can hang my hat up anywhere, honey. Even in Montana.”

My eyes fly up to meet his. Where his are full of humor, mine reflect shock. “What?”

“Just saying,” he says, taking another sip of hot coffee. “I think I’d love to visit Montana, actually. Maybe even purchase some land near a cattle ranch, buy some Levi’s and some cowboy boots. I might actually enjoy that.” Dad smiles over the rim of his cup. “Listen, Kyla, I want you to be happy and only you can decide what…or who makes you happy. I know he hurt you. Maybe you can forgive him, maybe not. That’s for you to figure out,” he says, finishing off his beverage.

I stand up as he does, leaving my cup on the table. “Thank you, Daddy,” I whisper as I pull him into a hug.

“I’d do anything for you, honey, but only you hold the key to your own happiness. Take some time and figure out what that might be. Maybe you can go and do some traveling of your own,” he adds with a wink. He places a kiss on my forehead and turns toward the elevator.

Before the door closes to whisk him away, he turns back to me and adds, “I love you, Kyla. Be happy.”

When the door closes, I’m left alone with my thoughts and conflicted heart.

I’m still angry. The pain is too raw. I can’t even think about a future, let alone consider what that might entail—or who. Right now, I just need to relax and take a nap, and maybe then, I’ll be able to think about what I really want and whether or not it’s obtainable.

I place my cup in the sink and head for the stairs, wishing the ache in my chest would just stop, at least for a little while. But I’m guessing I’ll be carrying that particular pain for the rest of my life. All I can do is pray it subsides enough to get through the day without continually thinking of him.

Easier said than done.

***

By Monday morning, I’m more than ready to get out of my penthouse. I need fresh air and sunshine and fewer walls closing in on me. It was good to use yesterday as a day of relaxation and reflection. Sure, there were tears. A lot of them actually. Just when I thought I couldn’t cry any more, they’d just start to fall all over again.

Midafternoon, I went downstairs to grab something to eat. That’s when I found Mason’s bag sitting along the wall. I knew what it contained, and while I tried my hardest to ignore its presence in my residence, I ended up opening the bag and pulling a T-shirt out. Only then did I return to my bedroom, remove my own pajamas and slip his shirt over my head. The cool cotton did nothing to soothe my achy heart, but it did help me fall asleep. I ended up wearing it the rest of the day.

And the night too.

Now, I need something that’s just mine. Something that will help bridge the pain in my chest and the confusion in my head with some normalcy. After pulling into the small parking lot behind the shelter, I already feel my mood shifting. Even when I pull open the door and come face to face with Edith’s concerned gaze, I still feel better.

“Good morning,” I chirp, pasting on a big smile.

“Morning. Feeling better?” she asks, her critical eyes searching me from head to toe.

“Yes, thank you,” I reply, bypassing the front desk and heading for the back room. I can already hear the dogs barking.

“You sure?” she asks.

I pause before heading inside to start today’s volunteer task sheet. When I meet her gaze, I give her a small smile. “I will be.”

Pushing through the door, I stand there for a few minutes and just take in the scene. Some of the pups sit there, watching me, while others are spinning excited little circles in their kennels. I head over and grab the clipboard, ready to start, when something catches my eye.

Hattie’s name is crossed off.

My eyes fly to her kennel, only to find it empty. I don’t even know why my eyes start to burn. I mean, it wasn’t like I knew young Hattie very long, but the thought of her being adopted brings on a wave of melancholy. I should be happy. This is a good thing, right? This is the goal of every animal we have at Boston Cares Shelter.

The door behind me opens and Edith walks in.

“Where’s Hattie?” I ask, trying to figure out why I’m so sad to see the small terrier gone.

“Adopted. Yesterday, actually. She was super delighted, and the new owner passed all the application processes. They went home yesterday afternoon,” she says happily.

“I’ve never known you to release a pet before the twenty-four to forty-eight hour waiting period,” I say through a throat clogged with emotion.

“Well, I make an exception every now and again, and since it was their second in-person visit together, I went ahead and approved her adoption. Plus, the owner made a considerable donation to the shelter,” Edith adds with a chuckle.

I hear about half of what she says as