“And lesson two?” she asks.
My grip tightens on the rag. “Don’t get attached to something that isn’t going to last.”
There it is. Closer to the surface than I meant to let it get.
She studies me. Really studies me.
Not like she’s trying to figure me out. Like she already sees more than I’m willing to show.
“That sounds like a rule,” she says quietly.
“It is.”
“For you?”
“For everyone.”
She shakes her head once. “No.”
I look at her then. I shouldn’t. But I do anyway.
“No?” I repeat.
“No,” she says. “That’s just the one you chose.”
Something in my chest pulls tight. Sharp enough to notice. Not enough to name. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say.
“Then tell me.”
Her voice doesn’t push or demand. It invites.
I don’t know what to do with that. I take a step toward her before I realize it. Close enough now that there’s no pretending. Close enough that if I reach out…
Stop it, Levi.
“Go back to the house, Dakota,” I say, lower now. Rougher. “Not worth the trouble.
“You or the horse?” She doesn’t move.
My eyes narrow. “Some things you can’t rescue.”
“Why?” she asks.
Because I want something I won’t take. Because I’ve already let this go further than it should.
Because the way you look at me makes me forget the rules I built to keep everything from falling apart.
I don’t say any of that.
“Because I said so.”
Her lips press together. She doesn’t look angry or hurt. If anything, she’s too damn perceptive, as if she’s drilling into me.Deep.
Until I realize she’s just… thinking. This isn’t about her or me at all.
Dakota nods once. “Okay.”
Too easy. That should feel like a win. But it doesn’t.
