Impulse (Billionaire Secrets 5)

e? You talk about how you’re all independent and on your own, but all you’ve done is drain me of my money.”

“Exactly what money was that?” I asked. “The three hundred bucks you occasionally get for playing in bars? Even though most of the time you take free drinks as payment. I’m the one that has kept us supported. It’s me that’s kept us fed. I’ve kept this roof over our heads while you lay around drunk all day riffing away on your stupid guitar.”

“Stupid? Let’s talk about stupid. Someone with a college degree that can’t even get a job. That’s stupid. You had to take that pathetic job with some old man because your stupid community college degree is worthless.”

“Well, remember what I said, Andy. Once I find that job, I’m going to go after every certification I can get, and then I’ll be leaving your sorry ass in the dust.”

“Good. It’s not like I’m banging that ass anyway,” he said.

“You’ll never touch me again so long as I can help it,” I said. “So, since we’ve talked about my job search, you want to tell me about yours now?”

Andy eyed me and I thought for sure he was going to hit me. He loomed over me, straightened out his drunken posture and tried to buck up to me. But I was ready for him. Reaching my hand out for the baseball bat in the corner, I was ready to use it. His eyes flickered down to my grip before a grin crossed his cheeks, then the hazy alcoholic returned.

“Bitch,” he said.

“Deadbeat.”

He snapped back around to me and I held my ground with the baseball bat at my side.

He rummaged around for a shirt and pulled it over his head before grabbing his leather jacket. The next sound I heard was the slamming of our front door. I stood there as water began to drip on top of my head and I held back tears. I looked up, noticing the leak and the stains it left on our ceiling. I grabbed a change cup off the windowsill and dumped out the pennies, then placed it on the floor so the water wouldn’t ruin the carpet.

As if that nasty carpet was somehow precious.

I fought back tears as I leaned against the wall. Why the hell had I agreed to move to this hellhole in the first place? Oh, that was right. Because my fucking boyfriend asked me to. Because he told me he loved me, and painted a picture of this quaint little country life. Because that same degree he just thrown up in my face was supposed be useful here.

My two-year medical transcriptionist degree, guaranteeing me a job anywhere.

Even useful in fucking Stillsville, Illinois.

What an idiot I had been.

I slid down the wall and curled my knees up to my chest. Andy had been charming once. A wonderful musician I couldn’t stop listening to. I went to his performances and he dedicated songs to me before we had mind-blowing sex in the bathrooms of the bars he played in. I loved him. There was a point in time where I loved him more than anything. Where I would’ve given up everything for him. And I had, the minute he asked me to move in with him. I had, when he told me he’d found us the perfect starter place. I had, when I’d packed up all my shit and came to live with him in this godforsaken town that was crumbling around us.

Mr. Anton was the only thing that made it bearable.

And now I didn’t even have him.

What the hell was I going to do now?

Chapter 3

Grayson

The memories were too much. I needed to get out of that house. I’d spent the entire morning with the estate lawyer, who had lined out the old man’s will and assets. Honestly, I was blown away at what there was to find. As a kid, I thought Anton was wealthy as shit, but didn’t understand the type of wealth the man had. Even by my standards today, the man was wealthy. Millions upon millions in bank accounts, and even millions more in assets strewn around the entire damn world. Anton could have gone anywhere. Literally. He could have traveled anywhere, and retired anywhere! Anywhere!

Why the hell did he choose fucking Stillsville, Illinois?

Most of his assets had been willed to charities. Organizations and things he held dear. Which didn’t shock me at all. Anton and I didn’t talk much after my football injury, but he knew how well I’d done for myself. I threw myself into the vineyard not too long after retiring from the NFL, and that took most of my time. And the more time I spent going over his will and walking the town, the guiltier I felt for not keeping in contact like I should have. The guilt was overwhelming, and with that guilt came memories.

Memories I wanted to drown at the local watering hole.

It was the only bar in town, and I had frequented it as a teenager. They had a reputation for serving underage kids and I’d always found a way to take out my frustrations on the bar patrons. It would be interesting to see who owned and was running the bar now. It would get my mind off the massive blow Anton’s wealth had on my mind, as well as the note I was carrying in my back pocket. The lawyer had it for me, an envelope addressed to me in handwriting I found familiar. Anton had written me a note before he passed, and I didn’t have the heart to open it.

Not without a cold beer in my hand.

I sat down in the bar and ordered myself a drink. The waitress brought me the bottled beer before setting it down on a napkin that looked as if it had already been used. No pride in the town whatsoever for anything they did. I crunched up my nose and slid the napkin away before I downed the beer. I took the note out of my pocket and turned it around in my fingers. A note. From Anton.

When was the last time I’d talked with the man?