Billionaire Bachelors 9 : Hidden Treasure(47)

The last promise he made her give before he left to catch his jet back to Seattle was to let him tell her brothers in his own time. It wasn't something easy for her to accept, but she understood.

Brielle prayed it wasn't the last time she would see her father - not now. Not when she was just beginning to feel as if she had a father again.

Chapter Twenty-Three

She was curled up on her sofa, clutching a cup of tea that had long since gone cold. Not that she noticed. Her father had called to tell her he'd made it home to Seattle, and to say one more time that he would keep her posted on his medical condition.

They'd spoken for an hour on the phone, and he'd even managed to make her smile a time or two, but the moment they'd hung up, the pain was back. He'd made her promise to keep working the ranch, to keep living each beautiful day. He'd assured her that he would be fine, that this was just another bump in the road, one that they'd one day laugh about.


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She didn't see that ever happening, but what she couldn't change in this world, what she had no control over, was not something she should allow to have such force over her emotions.

So shouldn't she continue to do her best to succeed, to give him something to be proud of her for? Of course she should. Brielle assured herself that was exactly what she would continue doing - starting back up tomorrow. For tonight she needed to brood, to sit in the dark of her living room and drink her tea.

"Brielle?"

Her head snapped up. A shadow had appeared in the doorway to her living room, but it wasn't fear that had her heart racing; it was that Colt was standing there. Though she couldn't see his face, she knew that silhouette, knew that voice, knew the feeling she had the moment he was in the room.

"I'm here," she said, a shiver running through her. She'd wanted to telephone him, to ask him to come to her, but suddenly everything about her life seemed so unsure. She didn't know whether she had the right to call him, because she didn't know what the two of them were to each other.

"Why are you sitting in the dark?"

"I … " She stopped as she realized how shaky her voice was.

"What's wrong, baby?" He was instantly at her side, sitting down on the couch and carefully removing the cold tea from her hand before pulling her onto his lap, just where she needed to be.

"My dad," she said with a sigh. There were no more tears left. In the last few months, Brielle had cried more than enough times to make up for the fact that she hadn't cried in twelve years.

She wouldn't cry again. "It's my dad. He has cancer." It was almost surreal to say those words out loud. She hadn't been able to tell her brothers, because of her promise to her father, but she had to speak about it, had to voice what she was feeling, and she was thankful Colt was there to listen.

"Oh, Brielle. That's terrible. May I ask what kind?"

"It's prostate cancer. He said there's a new treatment, and that's why he left today. He told me that the doctors are doing their best to fix it, but he doesn't want my brothers to know yet. He didn't want me to know. I answered his phone … "

"I'm sorry, Brielle."

She was relieved when Colt didn't try to offer her more than that, didn't try to make her unfounded promises that her father would be okay.

"I can't think about it anymore, Colt. I just can't. It's all I've been thinking about all day, and I'm so worn out. Please tell me something, anything to make me stop thinking about it."

Just sitting there in his arms took some of the burden away, just knowing he was there with her, that his hands were caressing her back, that his head was resting against hers. Just having him here with her meant she didn't have to be alone. That was so much better than sitting in the dark with a cold cup of tea. 

Why was she so focused on the tea? Because it was something to think about other than cancer and death. It was something to worry about that didn't have a serious consequence.

"It's funny, really. You go through life worried about the smallest, most petty things, and then you're hit with something like this," she said, her voice almost a monotone. "I used to get so upset when I would get a fresh manicure and then chip my nail the same day. Or when I couldn't find the perfect purse to go with a brand new top. I was so shallow."

"You're anything but shallow, Brielle."

"I don't know, Colt. Can a person really change that much in only a few months?"

"If you want my honest opinion, I don't think you were ever shallow. I think you focused on those things because they were what you could control. You could look at your nails and see there was a problem that you were able to fix. You could focus on an outfit because there was a solution - or, if not, what did it really matter? Your mother left you and your family drifted apart. You were spinning and you did what you had to do in order to stay planted on the ground. That doesn't make you shallow, really - that makes you a survivor."