“I need to talk to you because…” I stop myself, the words feeling heavier the longer I wait.
“Because of what?” Clint asks, cautious now, like he knows whatever comes next isn’t going to be easy.
I swallow hard. “Because I didn’t know it at the time, but I was pregnant when I left town.”
He stares a little glassy-eyed at me. I don’t think he’s getting what I’m saying, which means I’m really going to have to say it clearly. Word for word.
“I was pregnant with Charlie. He’s yours. He’s your son.”
The words fall out in a rush, a dam breaking open. I brace myself, expecting the ground to shift beneath my feet. But Clint’s just staring at me, his eyes wide. He’s trying to process what I just said.
His mouth opens like he’s about to speak, but nothing comes out.
He blinks a few times. “Charlie’s my son?”
I nod, my throat dry, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “Yes. He’s yours. I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t think you’d want to be a part of his life after nothing more than a one-night stand. I didn’t know what to say.”
Clint stands there, his eyes fixed on the ground, his shoulders stiff. His mouth opens, about to say something, but nothing comes out.
The silence between us feels so heavy, so thick, I can barely breathe. I keep waiting for him to say something, anything, but he doesn’t.
He just stands there, looking like he’s been blindsided by everything I’ve just told him.
I can feel my chest tightening, all the words I’ve just dropped on him pressing in. And my throat… it’s getting tight, too. I’m trying to hold back everything I’m feeling, but I can’t.
I feel the sting of tears in my eyes, and I know if I don’t leave now, I’m going to break down right here in front of him. I can’t do that.
I look up at Clint, hoping to find some sign that he’s okay, that this isn’t the end of everything. But there’s nothing in his face.
Nothing that tells me what he’s feeling. Not a word, not a gesture, nothing to let me know what’s going on inside his head.
“Clint…” My voice breaks. It’s too much. It’s too much for both of us.
I have to get out of here before I lose control.
I try to calm myself down, to push back the tears.
“I… I need to go. I shouldn’t have come here,” I stammer. “I just… I just wanted you to know, okay?”
I turn quickly, trying to escape before he sees how close I am to falling apart. My heart’s pounding, and every step I take feels like it’s dragging me farther away from the calm I desperately need.
Then, I hear his voice. It’s low, almost gruff, like he’s trying to make it through the fog of whatever this is between us.
“Dakota…” he says, but the words hang there, unfinished.
I can’t look at him. Not right now. If I do, I’m going to lose it.
I push forward, away from him and from whatever this conversation was supposed to be. I know I should stop, but I can’t.
I need space. I need time. I can’t hear the silence between us anymore. It’s louder than anything he could say.
My vision starts to blur, and I wipe at my eyes, hoping he doesn’t see the tears slipping down my face. I can’t break down in front of him. Not like this. Not after everything.
But the truth is, I’m breaking inside. This isn’t supposed to be how it went. I wasn’t supposed to leave him standing there, speechless, while I walked away.
But I don’t know how to make it right. Not now. Not when it feels like we’re miles apart, no matter how close we’re standing.
I hear the soft sound of his boots behind me, but I don’t turn around. I keep moving, my pace quickening as I approach my car. And just before I slide into the driver’s seat, I feel the sting of his gaze on my back.
