Burn: A billionaire Romance by Leah Holt

Author:Leah Holt [Holt, Leah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: contemporary romance, womans fiction, billionaire romance, enemy to lovers, new adult and college
Publisher: Always Ink
Published: 2023-11-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Glory

I woke up in the morning and actually felt good. The sun was up, painting the sky with bright yellow and red streaks like a paint brush as it slips across a canvas. Birds sang like an orchestra practicing the same tune over and over again. My brain wasn't twisting and throbbing. For the first time in weeks, I could see the future, and it looked bright.

I climbed out of bed, checked the time, and decided to take a quick shower before heading to the gallery. I wasn't going to just give up on this because I didn't have to. I had to keep trying. I wouldn't just throw up my hands and walk away. Liam was right. I loved what I did, and releasing it like a wounded bird that was mended but not fixed wasn't an option. I had keep going.

I threw on some clothes, pulled my hair back, and grabbed my tote, determined to figure this shit out. There was a list inside my head of what I was going to do today: grab breakfast, hit the store for more supplies, and paint my ass off.

I've got this.

My phone pinged, so I grabbed it and checked the message. My mother was still wondering when I was coming over and if I had the money for her. I knew she meant well; I understood she depended on me, but it was hard to go home.

It hadn't felt the same there since my father died. The place felt empty and quiet. The walls seemed lonely, sagging if they were crying. The floors creaked as if they groaned in sadness, as if something was missing, and it was—he was gone.

It has been seven years since he left us, and I still wasn't over it yet. People say the pain eases with time, but it didn't feel like that to me. I lost my father when I was a teenager, at the tender age of sixteen. He made it two years after his diagnosis and I still hadn't come to terms with it.

It felt like time made me more aware of the fact he wasn't there. Every day that passed since we put him in the ground was another day I missed him even more. It was a pain that cut deep, a hurt that followed you around, reminding you it was there whenever it had the chance.

Typing quickly, I told her I'd be over in a little bit to drop off the money. My stomach pitted at the idea. I could still smell the scent of my father's cologne in the air. It felt like he would emerge from one of the rooms or come walking down the hallway.

I avoided the home I grew up in as much as possible just to distance myself from the memories I couldn't bear. But no matter how long I stayed away, no matter how much I tried to forget, no matter how much I threw myself into my art, the pain followed me like a sad puppy.

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