Clint nods once, slow. “Then I’ll keep my voice down.”
Behind him, Sawyer clears his throat, glancing between us. “Maybe we should give them a minute.”
Reid looks like he wants to argue, but after one hard look from Clint, he exhales and mutters, “Yeah. Sure.”
He gives me a half-smile that’s almost apologetic, and starts back toward the truck. Sawyer follows, giving Clint a brief pat on the shoulder before he goes.
When their taillights disappear down the drive, the silence left behind feels… huge.
Clint shifts on his feet, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes flicking toward the door like maybe he’s not sure he should even be here.
I step aside anyway. “Come in.”
He does, carefully, like the floor might bite him, and when I close the door, I realize my hands are shaking.
He stops by the kitchen table, glancing down at my sketchbook. “That squirrel is really good, Dakota.”
I nod, not sure how to respond. Instead, I sit down, mostly because my knees feel unreliable. He takes the chair across from me, and we just… sit there.
Then Clint leans forward, forearms braced on the table. “I’m not here to fight, Dakota. I just… I need to understand.”
I swallow hard. “I didn’t know you when I first found out that I was pregnant. I didn’t know how you’d react, so I kept it to myself. And when I came back… I don’t know, it was just difficult. I mean, I’m selling this house. I don’t know how long I’ll be here… I wasn’t expecting to get all caught up.”
He nods slowly, eyes on the tabletop. “I don’t know how I would have reacted back then, but I do know I want to step up now.”
Something in the way he says it makes me believe him. There’s no bluff in his tone, no anger. Just this raw, honest kind of certainty that hits me square in the chest.
I look down at my hands, at the little smudge of pencil still staining my fingertips.
“I’m glad you do,” I say softly. “And I want that for Charlie. I just don’t want to confuse him. He’s finally starting to settle, to feel safe.”
Clint leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I get that. I don’t want to just show up and throw his world off-balance. But I want to be there. Even if it’s just little things at first, letting him get used to me.”
I nod, relief flickering through the tension. “That’s actually what I was thinking too.”
He tilts his head, a faint, wry smile curving his mouth. “Are we thinking alike?”
I let out a shaky laugh. “Don’t make it weird. It probably won’t happen again.”
That earns me a soft chuckle, low and rough and so him. It’s the first real laugh either of us has managed since this whole mess started.
He sobers after a moment, his eyes finding mine again. “I don’t want to miss another second of his life, Dakota. Not one. I know I can’t make up for the time I wasn’t there, but… I want to try.”
The way he says it, quiet, fierce, full of regret and love, it makes my throat ache. This is Clint Parrish, the man who doesn’t seem to be good at words. And here he is, tearing his walls down right in front of me.
“I know,” I whisper. “And I want that too. But we need to take it slow, for Charlie’s sake. He doesn’t know you’re his dad yet, and I don’t think dropping that on him all at once is fair.”
Clint nods. “I’ll come by, help out, spend time with him. But I’ll just be Clint. A friend.”
“Good,” I say, more to myself than him. “He likes you already, you know. He told me you were ‘the cowboy with the cool truck.’”
That earns me a grin, small but real. “He’s got good taste.”
I laugh again, quieter this time, and it’s a tiny release valve in the pressure that’s been building all night.
Then Clint’s expression softens in a way that catches me off guard. “You’ve done a hell of a job with him, Dakota. I mean it. He’s smart and kind and… happy. That’s because of you.”
I feel my throat tighten again.
