I stare at the name for a long moment, stomach churning. I hate him. Hate his smarmy tone, his pushiness, the way he made me feel cornered before. But right now, hating him doesn’t matter. What matters is control.
And control means selling this place and getting out before I make the same mistake twice.
I hit call.
It rings twice before that familiar, oily voice answers. “Buck Realty, Thomas Buck speaking.”
“Hi, it’s Dakota Fletcher.”
“Well, well, Miss Fletcher,” he drawls, smooth and patronizing. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
The sound of his voice makes my skin crawl, but at least it’s predictable. At least it’s business.
“I need to sell the house,” I say before I can talk myself out of it. “Now. I’ll work with your company. Even if it means taking a lower offer.”
There’s a pause. I can almost hear the smirk in his silence.
“Of course,” Thomas finally says, all charm again. “I knew you’d come around. We’ll make this as easy as possible for you, Dakota.”
I swallow hard. “Yeah. Just… get it done.”
“Consider it handled,” he purrs. “I’ll come this afternoon. You’ll have all the paperwork ready to sign.”
I hang up before I can second-guess myself. The silence afterward feels deafening.
Charlie hums quietly to himself, still drawing, still safe in his little world. I wish I could stay in that world with him. Where promises are kept, and love doesn’t sting.
Instead, I pace again, my pulse still erratic. I can’t tell if I made a brave choice or a desperate one. Maybe both.
I glance at the clock again. Eleven-forty-five. Clint still hasn’t come.
My throat burns. My eyes sting.
“Mom?” Charlie says softly, holding up his drawing. “Look, this one’s you and me riding horses.”
I swallow hard and kneel beside him, brushing a hand through his hair. “It’s perfect, baby.”
He grins. “You look happy in it.”
I manage a smile. “I am.”
But inside, I feel hollow. Like I’ve just made a deal with the devil.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Sawyer
What a freaking day.
I have so much work I need to do. So much that needs my attention, especially after the drama of last night. But I need to do the right thing for Clint.
Also, I want to see Dakota.
I pull into her driveway, already feeling that knot in my chest. Clint’s been a wreck all night, and I’ve got to make sure Dakota knows what’s going on, just in case she’s wondering if Clint’s ghosting his son.
I’ve seen him shut down before, and it’s always the same. Quiet, brooding, pushing people away until he figures things out on his own.
But this time, it’s different. Clint’s not rejecting Charlie. He’s just lost.
