Alpha Billionaire Series

HOLDEN

If there was ever a time to say, “F**k my life; today would be that day.

It had only been a few days since I got a call that I hadn't expected to get for years. My father was dead, come home immediately. Being in the military wasn't an issue, they would grant me bereavement leave. The problem was that I was strung out on painkillers less than two weeks after a major surgery and a life-changing accident.

Mom had already been through enough. First me, and then dad.

That night after the call, in my painkiller fogged-up brain, my dreams went sideways. Instead of me in the wreckage, it was dad. Instead of screaming metal and burning buildings, dad was screaming, dad was collapsing. Of course, at that time I hadn't yet learned that dad suffered a massive brain aneurysm and died at his desk. That might have made my nightmares worse.

I really wasn't in any condition to travel, still suffering the lingering effects of surgery to both my left leg and arm, two broken ribs, and a severe concussion. But there wasn't any way to not be there.

The next few days at home were surreal with my aunts bustling about taking care of everything, including me.

“Are you comfortable?” one of them asked. She arranged the pillows under my propped-up leg and made sure my arm was also well supported. She adjusted the volume on the TV they had brought into the large sitting room so that I could have something to entertain me, and I could be in a location where they could more easily keep an eye on me.

I squinted and tried to remember her name. The painkillers had my brain looping out on weird thoughts. “How did you get out of the TV?"

“Holden, you are saying the craziest things on those pain pills. I really should remember to record you. I'll bring you some water. You rest.”

“Okay," I mumbled.

The next time my aunt walked by, she was in something different, and it took an effort to remind myself that I had identical twins for aunts. They were Dad's younger twin sisters. Random memories came back and suddenly I was a child and having things explained how it was perfect for there to be two girls, one each to be named after the grandmothers.

Iwas an only son, continuing another family tradition of being named after my grandfather, Holden Wells. If I ever had a son I would continue the tradition and name him for my father, Powell

Mom stayed in bed the entire time until the local priest arrived.

I didn’t remember Mom being a regular Sunday morning churchgoer, but maybe that had changed since I left. Or maybe she, had the entire time and I had never paid enough attention.

Father Jones seemed to offer her comfort that no one else had been able to provide. He was a soft-spoken man, and as he went over the readings, Olivia and Lydia sat on either side of mom, holding her hands, literally propping her up.

I was too deep in pain pills to be much good to anybody. But I needed to be there.

Dad had been entirely too young; aneurysms didn't discriminate for age.

I vaguely remembered speaking to a lawyer regarding the will. One of my aunts— I think it was Lydia. It might have been Olivia— intervened on my behalf, reminding the lawyer that I was on painkillers and not a responsible party.

He blustered and bellowed, “Who is a responsible party around here?”

Atthat point, the aunt showed him the door and told him to learn some manners.

Not that those whirlwind days after arriving home were entertaining or enjoyable, but I would have given anything to go back to them instead of sitting at this uncomfortable funeral. Those few days had been too busy to feel grief, too unregulated on my meds to feel much of anything.

The morning of the funeral, I sucked it up and cut my dosage in half. I needed to be present, in all of my pain today. I neede to be coherent enough to provide the comfort and support my mother deserved. Getting ready had been a challenge, even with assistance. I was ever so grateful for my aunts and their organizational skills. A liveried driver arrived for us and had a wheelchair for me. He must have been a specially trained driver because he assisted me in and out of the car.

Mom held it together until we arrived at the private viewing.

I kept the wheelchair back and allowed her last private moments together with Dad. From where I sat, Dad simply looked to be asleep. I wished I could be of more support, physically, when Lydia collapsed in on herself in her grief. I couldn't get up and go to her, providing a steady shoulder. She had been so steadfast in the days prior.

I wheeled up next to Mom and took her hand. Life was going to be very different with Dad gone.

“It's time for us to go," Olivia came up and spoke.

I'turned and saw one of the funeral servicemen standing behind her. He must have come in and found the one person who looked like they were holding it together the best to have let the rest of us know it was time to say our last goodbyes.

“No, I don't want to, not just yet” Mom managed. Her voice was so small, so sad.

“People will already be arriving at the cemetery.”

“Let them,” I said. “We can be a little late. Give her some more time."

I wanted more time too. I wanted to ask him all those things I thought we would have time for later. Questions about his life my life, and all the things I didn't know I would have to navigate for a long time yet but were now my responsibility. I needec to know where he kept the important legal documents, what did his life insurance policy cover, how did I make sure the righ properties were in Mom's name, and how much was in my name? There was more the lawyer had thrown at me in my pain- killer haze. I would have to call and find out what to do next.

Mom finally nodded and we left. The funeral home waited until we left before they closed the lid on Dad's coffin.

There was a crowd at the cemetery waiting for our arrival, not that we were more than a few minutes late. Our driver transferred me from the car into the wheelchair and rolled me into position. Mom sat by my side; my hand clasped in her vice-like grip.

Pain distorted my perception of time nearly as much as the pain-killer meds had. Maybe cutting my dose hadn't been the best idea, but I had wanted to be mentally present and not wander if the priest's bushy eyebrows could talk— something I had thought about when he visited the house.

In an attempt to occupy my brain, distract it from the pain in my body and in my heart, I let my gaze drift over the people in attendance. I expected to see the Underwood family sitting in the first few rows. It hurt that they hadn't come. I didn’t expec the entire family, but not seeing the parents was a bit of a blow. My eyes kept moving over the crowd until I saw them. The entire family.

My gaze passed over their son and landed on their daughter, Makenzie. I hadn't seen her for years. My heart clenched at hoy incredibly beautiful she looked. Her eyes were closed, and she rested against her father. They must have gotten there even later than we had for them to be standing in the back.

When she opened her eyes and our gazes locked, I felt hope for the first time since before things had literally fallen down around me. Anticipation built in my belly when the service ended, and I expected the Underwood family to pay their condolences. I would get to see Makenzie again, hear her voice.

“You look like you dealt a shit blow.”Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

Ilooked up to the sarcastic tones of Travis Underwood.

I gave him a curt nod. I could hear his mother cooing to mine regarding loss and grief and sorrow. I was stuck with an a** being an a**+e,

“Sorry about your loss man,” Travis actually said something nice.

I looked past his mother to see if Makenzie was in line, but she wasn't. Couldn't she even talk to me today of all the days? “Makenzie was 00 torn up to come over, but she did want me to give you, her condolences”

I reached up to shake his hand.

He took it and gave me a power squeeze, yeah man, I get it you're strong and I'm broken. Travis leaned in and through gritte, teeth hissed, “Never talk to or look at my sister again. Do you hear me?"

I leveled a glare at him. “Loud and clear”