But as Clint draws closer, dust settling behind him and his blue eyes locked on the two of us, I can’t help the twist of doubt in my chest.
Because as much as I want to believe my words, part of me knows. Once the truth comes out, nothing will ever be the same again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Dakota
Uh-oh.
This is it.
Maybe I should just… run. Turn around, go back to the house, and pretend I never came here. Pretend that this moment, this conversation, is just a bad idea I can erase from my mind.
But no. I can’t.
I won’t.
Sawyer’s voice floats in the back of my head. “You’re gonna be fine. Just breathe. I’m right here if you need me.”
Breathe. Right. Like I can manage that right now.
I’m about to do the one thing I’ve been dreading for what feels like forever: tell Clint the truth about Charlie.
When he looks over at me, his expression softens just a fraction. But there’s still that guarded look in his eyes.
He’s not sure what to make of me. Or what I’m doing here.
I open my mouth, trying to say something, but I can’t. The words feel heavy, stuck in my throat. Clint doesn’t speak right away, just waits.
The silence stretches between us like a long, unspoken question. I can feel his gaze on me, sharp and searching.
“You alright?” he asks, measuring me up, trying to figure out what’s going on in my head.
I nod quickly, but it’s more of a reflex than anything else. “Yeah, just… I need to talk to you.”
I can feel the tension coil in my chest as we start walking. Clint’s long strides swallow up the distance between us, and I’m left scrambling to keep up. I’m trying to breathe, trying to hold myself together, but I’m overwhelmed by what I have to say.
Clint glances at me every few steps, his brow furrowed, trying to read me. And honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been more aware of him than I am right now. It’s like I can feel him inside my head, dissecting every move I make.
“Is everything okay?” he asks tightly.
The question makes me pause. “Yeah, it’s just… a lot, you know?”
He stops walking, and I can feel his attention shift, really focus on me. “What do you mean? Last night, or something else?”
I flinch. Last night. Right. I know what he’s thinking. He’s probably wondering if this is about the whole three of us thing.
I shake my head quickly, my breath catching in my throat. “It’s not about that.”
He eyes me, clearly not convinced, but instead of pushing, he nods and starts walking again, this time at a slower pace.
I need to tell him. I need to get the words out. But they keep getting stuck, stuck in my throat, lodged in my chest, making it hard to breathe.
“Clint,” I say, testing the waters, “It’s about… well, the last time we were together. The first time, I should say. Years ago.”
I hear him shift beside me. “Right, okay?”
I stop walking. My stomach twists, and I feel the strain of the world press down on me. There’s no going back from this. I take a breath, my heart hammering in my chest.
