"The text." He held out his hand, expression open and curious. "You've been checking your phone all weekend looking worried. Whatever it is, you can tell me."
I should say no. Should lock the screen. Should find the words myself.
But my thumb wasn't on the lock button. And he was already reaching.
Before I could think, I handed him the phone.
Still unlocked.
With my lock screen wallpaper clearly visible — Daisy grinning at the camera, curly blonde hair wild, chocolate smeared across her cheek from her third birthday party.
Hunter stared at the screen. His expression shifted. Confusion. Then understanding. Then something guarded.
When he looked up, his voice was careful.
"Who's the little girl, Dixie?"
Chapter Six
Hunter
The photo on Dixie's phone showed a little girl with curly blonde hair and a chocolate-smeared grin. Three years old, maybe less. Big brown eyes — Dixie's eyes — staring at the camera like she owned the whole damn world.
"Who's the little girl, Dixie?"
The silence stretched between us. Dixie stood frozen by the bed, naked and beautiful and suddenly looking like she wanted to bolt.
"Her name is Daisy." Her voice was barely a whisper. "She's my daughter."
The words hit me harder than I expected. Not because I was angry — I wasn't, not even close — but because everything suddenly made sense. The careful way she'd guarded her phone all weekend. The texts she'd angled away from me. The shadows in her eyes when she talked about coming back to Bitter Root.
"You have a daughter." I said it slowly, testing the shape of the words.
"She's three." Dixie's chin lifted, defensive already. "And before you ask — no, you're not the first person to judge me for it."
"I'm not judging you."
"Sure." She laughed, but there wasn't anything funny in it. She grabbed for the hotel robe draped over a chair, pulling it on like armor. "You're a Massey. Your family probably has opinions about single moms who—"
"Dixie." I stood up, not caring that I was still naked. "Stop. Look at me."
She didn't want to. I could see it in the set of her shoulders, the way her hands trembled as she tied the robe. But she met my gaze.
"Tell me about her," I said. "Tell me everything."
