Alpha Billionaire Series
Coming Home Chapter 1

MAKENZIE

Present...

I5tood in the back with my parents and brother. We arrived a few minutes late, not surprising as we never seemed to be on time for anything as a family, even now that we were all adults. I twisted my fingers and continuously rubbed my hands together.

My feet were killing me. I couldn't remember why I had picked the shoes I was wearing. Maybe it had something to do with wanting to dress appropriately, maybe I wanted to look cute?

What was wrong with me?

Why was I dressing cute for a funeral?

It was the first time in several years that I would see Holden, and I put on heels slightly higher than was socially acceptable for the occasion. Thinking had not been involved. Holden would be distracted with his mother, and his own emotions. He certainly wouldn't be looking at my outfit, or thinking I was cute. But I hadn't thought of any of that when I got dressed. All could focus on was Holden coming home, and that I was going to see him again.

And now that we were at the funeral, I saw him. He looked grim. Of course, he would, we were all there to bury his father, Powell Wells.

I had basically grown up knowing Mr. Wells. He was a friend of my parents, and as a kid every summer I was running in and out of the Well's beach house nearly as much as Holden was running in and out of my family’s house. I wasn't one of those kids who adopted my friend's parents, and honestly, I really wasn't much of Holden's friend. But I still remembered the man as being a constant adult in my life, especially during the summers.

Holden was my brothers best friend, and I was the little sister running after them for someone to play with and grab a little bit of attention. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

I don't know if Travis and Holden met because our parents knew each other, or they met because we summered on Nantucket at the same time, or had they met at boarding school. They met, and they were inseparable. Not only did they go to the same boarding schools, insisting on attending the same high school, they even went to NYU together and roomed together.

Iwas in the way, always in the way.

Travis leaned into me. “Will you stop fidgeting,” he growled.

Mom patted him on the back of his hand. I wasn't sure if that was to soothe him or quiet him.

“My feet hurt," I whispered.

She rested her hand over mine. Her touch was definitely an attempt to soothe me, to calm me down.

“You shouldn't have worn those ridiculous shoes. Who wears six-inch pumps to a grave-side service?"

“I thought we would be sitting”

Mom tightened her grip on the back of my hand. That was to get me to shut up. I put my other hand on top of hers and squeezed back signalling that I got the message loud and clear, sorry, I will do better. At least that was my intention.

Mr. Wells had been a popular man, rich, and well regarded. He owned and ran several companies that did something with airplanes. I had always been impressed that he flew his family to the island from Connecticut in his very own airplane. We always took the ferry over.

Itried to decide how many people at the funeral were employees. I guess the rough looking bunch of men toward the back all were. They were dressed solemnly, but the clothes were not necessarily black, and certainly were not designer labels.

I continued my game with who was there because they actually liked him, or because he had been an important business contact. The front row was family and friends, other people I recognized from my childhood. That's where we should have been had we arrived on time.

The rows after that were filled with old men who looked red-faced and uncomfortable in their expensive suits and ties. I figured them to be the bankers and the lawyers. Those people were here because Powell Wells had made them a lot of money over the years, and it was only polite to send off a client like that. I let my mind play guessing games as I looked at the expensively dressed women. Were any of them his mistress? I decided that if Mr. Wells had kept a side chick, she wasn't here.

By that point in the funeral, I had fidgeted and made up stories about everyone in attendance. I was going to have to suck it up and do the one thing I had managed to not do, look at Holden.

I had let my gaze identify him long enough to know where he was seated so that I could avoid looking at him. I was afraid if I started looking at him, I wouldn't be able to stop. And if he looked at me, I would embarrass myself and do something horrifically stupid and embarrass everyone else in attendance. No one wanted that, especially me.

I was really afraid that if I looked at him, he might look back at me. I didn't know what I would do if that happened. I considered that dropping dead of pure mortification was a possibility.

I twisted to see if there were more interesting people for me to look at, make up stories about. I caught a glimpse of my father. He sniffled and his eyes were rimmed in red. I felt like a selfish fool. Looping my hand through Dad's arm, I rested my head on his shoulder.

The reason Mr. Wells had been a constant in my youth was because he was my father's friend. And here I was making up stories about the people attending the man’s funeral while my dad was mourning the loss of a friend. I didn't think Holden's parents were any older than mine. I closed my eyes against the thought of losing either mom or dad.

Holden must be hurting. Was anyone up there holding his hand, offering him support, or was he being a solid rock of support for his mother?

It didn't take bravery to open my eyes and search out Holden. It had been cowardice to not look at him before. I sucked in a small gasp when I let my gaze rest on him. He looked as if he had been beaten, physically and mentally.

Of course, I had heard there had been an accident. His mom told my mom, she passed it along to both Travis and me. It was the only way we got any news about Holden; the direct lines of communication had been severed several years earlier. Having known about an accident hadn't prepared me for what that meant.

His mother rested her head on his shoulder. He had his good arm around her, his other arm was wrapped in thick white bandages and supported in a dark sling. His left leg, the same side as the broken arm, was also wrapped in bandages and propped in front of him.

The bandaged limbs had a weird impact on my perception of him in his dress uniform. He should have been tall and strong, and irresistible. Instead, he seemed small. He had bruises on his face, and black eye, a strip of tape across the bridge of his nose. His expression was dour. Was it from the pain he had to be in from the injuries, or from his father’s death? Was it both There sat a man who I remembered as being larger than life, full of vitality, strength, and power, and he was anything but that. He'd gotten into a fight with Life's challenges and clearly had not won. What had happened to him? Had his helicopter gone down? All I knew was “accident, but no details.

Holden didn't need me staring at him during one of the most difficult times of his life. He wasn't on display for my visual consumption.

Just as I realised I needed to stop staring, he looked up at me. Our eyes met. I should have looked at him earlier. I couldn't reach out and offer comfort, but I sensed him drawing comfort and strength from my gaze. It wasn't until that point that I started crying. Tears leaked out of the corners of my eyes as I felt Holden's sadness.

The officiant ended the service, and people stood. My eye contact with Holden was broken. Whatever connection we had formed was severed in that moment.

Mom grabbed my elbow. “We should go give Millie and Holden our condolences.”

I couldn't move. My feet, in their ridiculous shoes, would not budge. Panic knotted in my stomach. I couldn't handle their grief anymore; I had already given Holden everything I could. I would break down if I went up there.

“I can't,” I managed to say.

“Come on Makenzie, the Wells family are very close friends, you should—" Dad started before Travis cut him off.

“It's okay. I get it. Stay here, I'l give Holden your condolences. She's sad, let her be."

Dad nodded in agreement, and they walked up to the family. I couldn't see faces, too many people were in the way. But I did make eye contact one last time with Holden before we left. For a second, I understood I had made the wrong decision, but then he closed his eyes, and I knew I was forgiven.

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