King's Treasure (Oil Kings Book 3) by Marie Johnston (great novels .TXT) 📗

I’d changed since meeting him all those months ago. I could do what I wanted to from an office, or I could do it from the front lines.

I’d called some contacts I’d networked with through Saving Sunsets and asked them about the basics of running a nonprofit—and how to do it successfully. Then for the entire two months I’d been home, I’d outlined how I’d run one. Gentry’s job deadline had come and gone. I had declined the offer.

Good thing Chief hadn’t known about it, and that Gentry hadn’t told him.

My return had shocked my parents. Chief had been a tense ball of dread until he’d realized his contract with King Oil wasn’t going to be affected by the state of my relationship with Xander. Chief had offered me another assistant job too, and as tempting as it had been to hop into something I could earn money with immediately, I’d refused that one too. It’d swallow me up again if I went back. I’d discussed rent and a timeline for when I’d be ready to move out with both parents. I wasn’t making the same mistake I had before, and I wasn’t skipping out on critical conversations with my parents anymore.

I’d found seasonal work at a shopping mall—at a stand that wrapped gifts with an environmental twist. While it was fun to find ways to make old newspapers look elegant and festive while they encased a new TV, or a doll, or a processed meat and cheese set, I spent the entire time planning—including when I was commuting. No more personal driver, and no more getting lost . . . after the first few times.

Saving Sunsets had aligned with my goals. That was why I’d stayed on a sinking ship and been stranded in Las Vegas. The benefit to sticking around so long was that I’d gleaned a lot about the right ways to run a nonprofit—and some of the major wrong turns to avoid.

I puffed out a breath. Thankfully, Pearl had a desk in her bedroom, leaving few reasons for me to leave other than work and food. I made sure to get outside each day. The cold nipped my nose and we’d had a dusting of snow already, but I wouldn’t let memories of snowmen and snowball fights tarnish my daily dose of sunshine.

I stared at the desktop, my eyes drifting away from my laptop, where I had a business plan nearly complete. My heart tugged at the loss of the job offer with King Oil. I could’ve made a difference from the top down. That was a position where people would’ve listened to me.

I straightened, picturing lead being poured down my spine. I could do this. From the ground up. With no money but plenty of connections to fundraise.

My gaze slid over the envelope. The lawyer’s office had offered to send the papers for me, but as my heart had clogged my throat, I’d shaken my head and held my hand out. The address was already on it. Well, Dawson’s. Was Xander still there? Was he even in the States?

I doubt he thought I’d divorce him, but I had to. All that money. I pinched the bridge of my nose. I could do so much with it.

But it wasn’t mine. I had to have faith in my ability to generate my own. I had to have faith in this endeavor. I had to have faith that if my marriage had been destined to be, it would’ve worked out.

There was a knock on the door. I ripped my gaze away. My stupid chest grew tight with each knock, only to be smothered by foolishness a moment later. Xander would’ve shown by now if he’d wanted to work on us.

“Yeah?”

Mother poked her head inside. “I’m going out. Would you like to come along?”

Mother offered each time she ran errands. She worried that I was wasting away in this room with no one to talk to. All I could do was lob messages back and forth with Brady and Rina. I had no idea when I could fly out and see them.

“No. I have . . .” My gaze landed on the papers. I could drop them in our mail. I could go with Mother and mail them. I could continue to be a coward and leave them on my desk.

But it was nearly Christmas. How shitty to get served divorce papers on Christmas. Yet if I was going to go through with it, I should do it well before Valentine’s Day. I was running out of time, and waiting any longer meant I didn’t really want this divorce. That I hoped we could still work it out. Somehow.

I flattened my hand on the large manila envelope. With today’s technology, I was sure there were more expedient ways to do this, but I hadn’t asked for them.

I sucked in a sharp breath. “Can you mail this?”

Mother’s mouth tightened. I’d told her about the trust and how my relationship had ended. Both pride and disappointment had shone in her eyes. Like she’d told me earlier, she was there for me when I fell, but I could walk through my life on my own.

She gave me a clipped nod and took the envelope. “Are you sure?”

No. “Yes.”

Her reassuring smile didn’t do anything to make me feel better. She left and I was halfway out of my chair to catch her and rip the envelope away. I gripped the sides of the chair and breathed through my panic.

When I finally relaxed, if that’s what I could call the feeling, I tried to go back to the business plan I had on my computer. I sat poised, ready to write, but didn’t move for I don’t know how long. I stared at the screen. My gaze flicked to the bare spot on the desk where the envelope had been.

I stroked the wood and tears sprang into my eyes.

I was home alone and my faith in myself was crumbling. I tried to return to the