Where is home to me?

Noelle asked, and I didn’t have an answer for her. I still don’t. I have luxury apartments in the best cities in the world, and a Rolodex full of beautiful women to date; I’ve built a company from nothing, secured my family against any kind of uncertain future, and done it all alone without anything to fall back on. I succeeded because I had to, because I had vision, and ambition, and pure desperation driving me on.

“When will it ever be enough?”

The question haunts me, rattling around my unwilling mind. I always believed that my rationality was a strength. I made the decision to never let my emotions cloud my judgement or derail my business, and I stuck to it.

But now I wonder if I’ve been the fool all along. I knew that going ahead with the hotel development was wrong. I knew it would hurt Noelle, drive a wedge between us. I was trying to prove something to myself by pressing ahead: that I was still in control, despite my feelings for her.

That love wouldn’t threaten my career, not again.

And how did that work out?

Failure hits me, a painful strike through my chest.

I screwed up, and that’s not something I’m used to. But for the first time in my life, it’s not the tanked business deal that hurts, but the person I wounded instead.

Noelle.

Her beautiful face flashes into my mind, bringing with it a ton weight of guilt and remorse. I can’t pretend any longer, clinging to my weak justifications. Even I can’t hide from the simple truth:

I let her down.

The one woman to see past my cold exterior, and believe there was more to me underneath. She only ever saw the best in me, and how did I reward her? By going behind her back to kick her off her property, and claiming the whole time it was just business.

She was right. I was lying to myself. There’s no such thing as “just business” anymore.

I want to be better than that, have more in my life than just the glossy stack of company brochures, the legacy I wanted to build.

That empire stands, sure, but it’s empty. A home is more than bricks and mortar, it’s the people you fill your life with instead. My family gets that, Noelle understands. Hell, everyone seems to have a clue except me.

“Now boarding Flight A67 to New York.”

The announcement comes over the loudspeaker, snapping me out of my daze. My flight—and my ticket out of here. I can get on that plane right now, and leave all this mess behind. Be back at my desk by the morning, move on with my life and leave this failure behind.

I head for the gate on autopilot, and pass my ticket to the attendant, before making my way on board to the first class section. It’s a quiet flight, half-full, and I retrieve my laptop before stowing my carry-on in the over-head compartment and taking my seat.

What the hell are you doing? You can’t leave this time!

I open my laptop and stare blankly at the screen. The other passengers are filing on now in a noisy hustle, but I try to block them out and focus on the work right in front of me, on anything except the doubts thundering in my brain, and every instinct screaming at me to get off this plane and go back to Beachwood Bay.

Back to Noelle.

I flashback to the first night I met her, the night of the masquerade party. I saw her, stuck there in the middle of the city street with her heel trapped in a grate. She looked so beautiful, bathed in neon, and just like that, logic flew out the window.

It was inevitable. I never believed in bullshit like destiny before, but looking back now, there was something almost fated about our meeting: a coincidence that sparked an inferno, the madness of attraction and lust.

But it was more than just desire. Everything about her only made me fall harder: her wit, her laughter, her loyalty and determination. She challenged me like nobody else, not afraid to call me on my bullshit, or push me away when I broke her trust in me forever.

My heart twists, bitter and painful.

If only I’d never gone to help her out—if I’d just kept my distance, instead of letting my wildest impulses take over—then none of this mess would have ever happened. I wouldn’t feel so conflicted and guilty, torn between my safe, structured life in New York, and the whirlwind of bright chaos Noelle seems to carry in her wake.

You wouldn’t know what it’s like to hold her in your arms; to gladly lose control to a passion bigger than you ever dreamed.

I slam my laptop shut with a scowl.

“Can I get you a drink before takeoff?” A friendly flight attendant pauses by me.

“No. Thank you,” I add, sounding way too curt.

“You just let me know,” she says with a suggestive wink, but I barely register her. I’m still caught up in memories of Noelle.

Every laugh. Every kiss.

Every molten touch.

I grip the armrests beside me and try to block her from my mind, but I can’t.

How long can I keep running? How far will I go to keep the world at arm’s length?

I’m suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion, a bone-deep, weary grief. It’s been years now, a decade since I allowed anyone to get close. Many have tried, but I locked them all out. Aside from my family, from Dex, and Tegan, and Blake too, there’s been nobody I ever depended on, or allowed to see me at my worst.

I’m so fucking tired of carrying this weight alone.

Before I can stop myself or think it through, I find myself tearing off my seatbelt and bolting to my feet. I push into the aisle and yank my suitcase back down.

“Sir? Can I help you? Sir?” The attendant looks panicked.