“Charlie?” Her voice trembles, barely above a whisper. “What do you mean?”
I know I’ve gone too far, but the doubt that’s been swirling in my mind for weeks has to be addressed. I can’t avoid it anymore.
I step a little closer, my gaze soft but insistent. “I’m just asking because… well, I can’t deny there’s a striking resemblance.”
Her breath catches. “I didn’t know you knew.”
My suspicion is immediately confirmed. “So, somethingdidhappen with you and Clint. Years ago.”
I try to work out how I feel about this, but I’m not too sure.
I also have no idea how Clint will react.
Dakota’s gaze drops to the ground, her fingers gripping the edge of her flannel shirt as if it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. The quiet moment between us stretches, and I can see her fighting with herself, wrestling with the decision to say what I already know is true.
“We had one night together,” she confesses. “And I had no idea that I was pregnant until I’d left town. And truth be told, I didn’t really know Clint, so I was scared to tell him. I didn’t expect to end up back in town, back in Clint’s life.”
I swallow hard, trying to make sense of everything.
It’s a lot to digest, more than I expected.
“Dakota…” I begin. “Why didn’t you tell him? Why keep it a secret from everyone?”
She pulls in a sharp breath, and her hands tremble as she tugs the sleeves of her shirt down. “I wasn’t sure what to do, Sawyer. I was scared… of what would happen, of what Clint would think. And… I didn’t want Charlie to be caught in the middle of something he wouldn’t understand. I don’t have agreat relationship with my parents, and I was too scared for Charlie to face rejection, too.”
Her words hang as smoke, heavy with the hurt she’s been carrying. I can’t imagine what it’s been like for her, keeping such a big part of her life hidden for so long.
“I get it,” I say softly, even though it’s hard to wrap my head around the emotions swirling in me. “But Clint deserves to know, Dakota. So does Charlie.”
She looks up at me then, and there’s something raw in her eyes that’s almost too painful to bear. “I know, and that’s why I’m here. I know the day isn’t ideal, but I need to get it off my chest.”
Before I can respond, the low, familiar rumble of an engine cuts through the silence. We both turn toward the sound at the same time.
Dust rises from the road just beyond the gate, swirling in the sunlight before the dark shape of Clint’s old pickup appears, rolling slowly down the drive toward us.
Dakota goes pale. Her hand instinctively goes to her stomach, her breathing picking up just a little. She looks like she might bolt, like every instinct she has is telling her to run.
“Hey,” I say quietly, taking a step closer. “It’s okay.”
She doesn’t look convinced. Her eyes stay fixed on the approaching truck as if it’s some kind of reckoning. One she’s both dreading and needing in equal measure.
She swallows hard, finally tearing her gaze from the truck to meet mine. There’s a storm in her eyes. Fear, guilt, love.
“What if he hates me?” she whispers.
“He won’t,” I say, firmer this time. “He might be shocked. Hell, he will be shocked. But he won’t hate you. You did what you thought was right at the time.”
The truck crunches to a stop, the engine cutting out. The sudden quiet feels deafening.
Clint steps out, grabs his hat from the seat, sets it on his head, and starts toward us with that purposeful stride of his. The one that always manages to command attention without a single word.
Dakota’s breathing quickens again. I can practically feel the tremor in her body.
I lower my voice, leaning just close enough for her to hear. “You’re going to be fine. Just… breathe. I’m right here if you need me.”
Her eyes dart to mine, wide and uncertain. “You promise?”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “I promise.”
