Page 14
Her words are sharp, but I can still hear the slight wobble of hurt in her voice, and all that does is fuel my determination to make things right.
I know I fucked up. I’m man enough to admit that, but I had a good reason. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?”
She shrugs, but it’s stiff. “Positive. Room’s yours.”
She grabs one of my duffle bags from the porch, spins on her heel, and struts inside without another word. That was nice of her. She’s always been an acts-of-service type of woman. She spent one winter building an entire irrigation system for the flower farm all to surprise us that summer.
“Thanks for grabbing my bag,” I say.
She doesn’t respond, so with a heavy sigh and Vienna chewing on my hair, I follow her inside the rustic barn.
Not much has changed.
The walls are still cedar. The furniture is still leather. There’s still that stone fireplace we never lit because it would be insane to light a fire in the middle of a Texas summer. Ugh. I’m sweating just thinking about that.
It’s all the same, but the open floor plan seems… emptier.
That’s when I realize all the random estate sale items Dakota and I collected over the years are gone. The old-school vinyls. That broken rooster clock. The cowboy frame that used to have a picture of us stuffing fresh strawberries into each other’s mouths at Sweeter Berry Farm.
It seems like she threw out all our memories, which I guess is good. I’ll look at the positives. We have extra space now, especially since the person I hired to babyproof the barn is coming tomorrow. The highchair can go on the granite island, and I can set up Vi’s play mat in the living room. She’s not walking yet, which is a sore spot for me, but we’ll make this work.
We always do.
I glance around the open floor plan living room, searching for any remnants of our memories. “You got rid of that old dart board we found at that estate sale in Sisterdale?”
Dakota doesn’t bother turning around to look at me, but now that we’re in the light, I’m cataloging every scar, bruise, and wound on her bare skin.
She’s so damn strong.
“I didn’t have anyone to shoot darts with,” she says with a shrug. “So I gave it to my friend, Lana. She likes getting high and throwing darts. Not the best combination, but who am I to judge?”
I chuckle. “Remember when we found that old bong at an estate sale and—”
“No,” she interjects in a hard voice. “We’re not doing this.”
“Doing what?”
She casts a glance over her bare shoulder, and there’s nothing but indifference in her gaze. “We’re not reminiscing.”
Her bedroom door opens, and I grimace when the paramedic from the rodeo walks out in nothing but a pair of American flag boxers. I’m all for a little Fourth of July pride if we’re at a parade, but I already don’t like him. “Hey, Kodie. You still coming in here, Killer?”
She bites her bottom lip, smirking at him in a way she never did at me. “Yeah, sugar. I’ll be right in.”
Jealousy rips through me again, but I’m so used to feeling that with Dakota that it barely bothers me anymore. I think I’m desensitized to the emotion.
“Who are you?” the guy asks me, dark brows coming together. “Wait, I know you. Weren’t you at the rodeo earlier?”
“Yeah, I’m—”
“He’s no one,” Dakota interrupts, and I wince.
That stings most of all because I used to be the guy she’d stay up all night on the phone with.
The paramedic looks between us, waiting for more. “Oh. Well, uh, good to meet you, man.”
He holds out a hand, but I’d rather change Vi’s diapers for eternity than make polite conversation with Dakota’s one-night stand, so I give him a stiff smile, gently rocking my girl.
I really need to wrap this up and get her tucked into bed soon. She’s a champ for hanging in there all day without a nap. Did I pack her favorite blanket? I think it’s in the backseat. Yeah, I shoved it in there right before we left.
