Nine
Lyra
V alentine’s Day is supposed to be about love, but today it’s about war.
I stride through the resort offices and pass my assistant. The folder in my hand has everything in it I need, no assistance required. Inside is a copy of the inn’s financials, my business plan for it, testimonials from the party, and most importantly, my resignation letter.
The truth about Byron’s Valentine left scorch marks across my heart and they’re still smoldering as we speak. Though, let’s be honest, the bigger revelation—that my father manipulated my entire life—is still doing a number on me too.
He sent Byron away with an offer he couldn’t refuse. Turned him into a weapon that could be aimed back at me whenever convenient.
And Byron let him.
I’m still trying to decide which one I’m more furious with.
I take the elevator to the top floor where my father’s office commands the best view of the valley. His admin sees me coming and doesn’t try to stop me.
I throw open his office door without knocking.
Lachlan MacLellan glances up, his expression shifting from annoyance to wariness in the space of a heartbeat. “Lyra. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“We need to talk about expectations.” I drop the folders on his desk. “Specifically, yours. And how they’ve shaped my entire life.”
His eyebrows lift. “I assume this has something to do with the inn?”
“This has everything to do with the inn. And Byron. And how you sent him away ten years ago because heaven forbid your daughter make her own choices.”
He doesn’t bother to look remorseful or even guilty. “I did what was best for both of you.”
“Best for us ?” I laugh, but it comes out raw. “Or best for your plans? Because I’m starting to see a pattern here. Leith and Liam didn’t like your vision for them, so they left. And when I showed signs of wanting something that could possibly veer me from the path you had laid out for me, you made sure to nip that in the bud.”
“That’s not what happened.”
He believes that fully. I can tell that this will be an uphill battle.
“Then explain it to me, Dad. Because from where I’m standing, you’ve spent the last decade grooming me to take over the resort while systematically removing any other options.”
His expression doesn’t change. “This resort belongs to you. It needs a MacLellan at the helm, as it always has. You’re the right one to continue in my footsteps”
“No.” The word comes out quiet but firm. “The resort needs someone , but it’s not going to be me.” I tap the top folder. “My resignation. Effective immediately.”
My father is genuinely shocked. “You can’t be serious.”
“You’re my father and I will always have a place for you in my heart, but I’m no longer letting you choose my life for me.” I meet his gaze steadily. “I’m done trying to make up for Leith and Liam leaving. And I’m buying the inn.”
“With what money?”
“I’ll figure it out.” I turn toward the door, then pause. “You know what the difference is between me and my brothers, Dad? They ran from the resort. I’m walking away. On my terms. Toward something I choose.”
“Lyra.”
I turn, one hand on the handle.
“Your grandmother would be happy that you’re making the inn your own.” The words come out gruff, reluctant.
Something warm unfurls in my chest, but I keep my voice steady. “I hope one day you will be, too.”
I walk out with my head high, leaving behind a decade of trying to be what someone else wanted. I make it all the way to the parking lot without throwing up in the bushes, so I feel pretty good about that.
The inn’s library becomes command central for Operation Figure Out How to Buy an Inn. I’ve got spreadsheets cued up across three laptops, bank websites open on my tablet, and enough coffee in my system to fuel a small country.
“The Douglas family can put in twenty percent,” Tabitha says, hanging up her phone. “Mom’s calling in favors from the Heritage Trust board members.”
I add the number to my growing list of potential investors. “That’s fabulous, thank you. It’s still a really short list, though.”
“I’ve got three more calls to make.” She eyes the empty coffee cup by my elbow. “Why don’t you take a break?”
“Breaks are for people who don’t have a VC firm to impress in...” I check my watch. “Twenty minutes.”
The Valentine’s Day party decorations sparkle around us, reminding me that I still have to clean up. I’ve been channeling all my hurt into action since before dawn: refining the business plan, researching venture capital opportunities, typing up my resignation letter.
In between confronting my father, I’ve been reaching out to every contact I have. Calling in my own favors.
Turns out running a resort for a decade gives you connections.
“Your presentation is solid.” Tabitha taps the business plan I’ve been working on since I first learned my father wanted to sell. “The party numbers alone show the inn’s potential. Add in your experience—”
The library door opens and Judy pokes her head in. “The investor guys are here early. In the lobby.”
I straighten my jacket and gather my materials. Time to prove my decade in the hospitality industry is worth something.
I’m in the middle of explaining projected revenue streams when Byron appears in the library doorway. My heart does a gymnastics routine at the sight of him, but I refuse to let it stick the landing.
“Gentlemen.” His lawyer voice slides through the room like silk. “Apologies, but your services are no longer required.”
The representatives from Forty-7 Capital exchange glances.
“What are you doing?” I counter heatedly. “We’re in the middle of something that doesn’t concern you.”
“Actually, it does.” His eyes lock with mine. “Give me five minutes. Please.”
The VC guys are already gathering their bags and printouts, clearly already sensing this is not the investment opportunity for them. They vanish the way they came before I can protest.
“You owe me a meeting with another venture capital firm.” I cross my arms and glare at Byron. “I’m not interested in whatever you have to say.”
My eyes did not get the message that I find him repulsive now and they drink in his casual jeans and t-shirt. It reminds me so much of teenage Byron that my eyes sting for a second.
And I realize then that no matter what, my heart has his name written on it. Forever. It’s like a fatal disease I can’t cure.
“You’ll change your mind very soon.” He pulls a folder from his messenger bag. “I withdrew from representing your father this morning. Then I made some calls.”
I blink. “You what?”
“I’m in the market for a new position, as it happens.” His lips quirk. “This will explain.”
He sets the folder on the table. Inside is paperwork for a business partnership. With my name on it. And his.
“I don’t understand.”
“We’re buying the inn.”
“ We ?” I spit back. “There’s no I in we. We are not buying anything. What are you talking about?”
He holds up a hand. “Please, Lyra. Just listen. Hear me out. I’ll be your VC firm. Don’t go into business with someone you don’t know. Do this with me.”
I’m hearing a lot of concepts that aren’t gelling together in my head correctly, and the earnestness bleeding from Byron is tripping me up. He’s obviously off his rocker. But sincere about it.
And I’m not blind. Something else glows in the depths of his gaze and yes, I know what it is. His voice saying I love you has been on repeat in my head, despite multiple attempts to block it.
“I don’t have any pressing engagements at the moment, thanks to you. You’ve got another three minutes to make your case,” I inform him frostily.
“Partners.” He pushes the paperwork toward me, like I haven’t properly examined the header. “You and me. I put up the money as an investor and you run the inn. Sixty-forty split. You’re majority owner. There are some stipulations on paying down the loan that you’ll want to go over with your lawyer. But this lawyer is telling you it’s very favorable."
"You have enough money to buy the inn?" It sounds accusatory, but really I'm just...floored.
"Let's just say your father is generous and has afforded me access to excellent investment advice." He smiles. "And also, I'm borrowing some of it. The point is that you don't need to worry about the money. Let me do that."
My head spins and finally catches up to my heart, which has already latched onto the idea that Byron came here with this plan as his grand gesture. It’s like the super big move at the end of a movie that the hero does to win back the woman. Right?
“Why are you doing this?” I ask. Now is not the time to make assumptions.
I want to hear him use his words.
“It’s a good investment,” he tells me, his smile a little misty. “It’s a way to ensure both of our futures are forever entwined, which is the only way I want to move forward.”
That sounds pretty permanent for someone who worked for my father five minutes ago and lives in Denver. “So, you’re just going to drop millions of dollars on an inn in Kilt Valley because you’re trying to make up for what happened in high school?”
He makes a face. “Not even a little bit. I’m doing this because I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you. It’s fate that I have the money and you have the expertise, vision and determination to make this inn profitable. I’ve seen your business plan. I’m all in.”
And there’s my answer. He’s doing this for me. For us.
“Why?” But I already know. It’s there in his expression, the way he’s looking at me, as if he’s found something precious that he has every intention of holding onto.
I feel myself sliding toward him. My anger falling away in the face of this sacrifice.
“Because I’ve spent a decade letting your father define what I’m worth.” He steps closer, and the air between us crackles. “I finally believe I can define that for myself, and I want to spend the next five or six decades proving to you that you can trust me. That my loyalty will be only to you. Don’t you see how perfectly this came together?”
I do see. Everything that happened before sucked, but it made both of us into who we are today.
But do we have what it takes to make it this time?
I look up at him. “And if I say no?”
“Then I’ll step aside and be a silent partner.” He shrugs. “The money is yours regardless of our relationship. But I’m hoping you’ll let me be part of this. Part of you.”
The raw honesty in his voice undoes me. This isn’t Byron trying to save me or buy my forgiveness. This is Byron choosing me . The way he should have back then.
But in so much more of a spectacular fashion.
My heart floods as I let it fill up with Byron Hale.
I tap the papers. “Seventy-thirty split. I’m the MacLellan in this equation.”
His smile grows the slightest bit crafty. “Sixty-forty and I change my name to MacLellan when we get married.”
My brain explodes and I’m utterly incapable of further negotiation. “You didn’t say anything about fighting dirty.”
His brows lift. “I would have opened with that if I’d known it would be the deal clencher.”
“The problem is that now you’ve made me cry and I can’t see to sign this stupid paperwork.”
He catches my hand and pulls me into his arms. I have zero interest in protesting as a trio of tears slip down my cheeks. Most of it is happy. Some of the ache in my chest is for the lost years and the doubt and the manipulation involved in keeping Byron and me apart.
Eventually, I’ll forgive my father. One thing at a time.
Byron swipes at my cheek with his thumb, his palm cupping my chin. “I love you, Lyra MacLellan. I choose you, always and forever. The way I should have ten years ago.”
“I love you too.” Difficult to fathom, but I think I love him more in this moment than I did before. “I might possibly never have stopped.”
“Same.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”
“It makes it what it is. A cautionary tale. So don’t screw up. We can never be apart again now that we know what it feels like.”
“I can totally get on board with that.” His expression sobers. “You know I didn’t tell you about your father’s deal because I didn’t want to cause a rift between you two. It wasn’t malicious or self-serving. Ever.”
I nod. “It’s not yours to control, though. I deserve to know the truth about everything that affects me.”
“I’ve learned that lesson the hard way. Let me spend every second of every day making it up to you.”
This time when his lips meet mine, there are no more secrets between us. No more lies. Just this moment, this truth, this choice we’re making together.
That’s what love is to me. Not grand gestures or hidden valentines, but two people choosing each other every day. Building something real.
One kiss at a time.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” I whisper against his mouth.
His answering smile tastes like possibility. Like forever.
Like home.