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I sit on the couch and square my shoulders, my father’s hand sandwiched between mine.
I repeat everything I told Davis. My pregnancy. The fire. Our fight. The entire time I explain, Davis stands as still as a statue.
The only thing I leave out is Aiden’s name, and what happened the night I broke my arm. It’s too awful. I still can’t.
When I finish, Fallon hangs back against the wall, arms crossed like some surly high schooler at a dance.
My father sighs. “Sounds like you got yourself into a pickle.”
I breathe through the sting of tears and squeeze his hand. “Sounds like it, Daddy.”
“Are you in danger from this man?” my father asks, voice tight.
“I don’t know.” My voice quivers. Just thinking about Aiden causes my emotions to unravel. “Maybe.”
Davis’s expression turns to granite. “Maybe in my world is a yes. Especially when it comes to you.” His voice is deep, gruff, and his dark gaze rakes over my face.
Our eyes lock, the air thickening with heat.
Fallon’s voice tears through the tense silence. “As much as I love this fucked-up family reunion, I got a shift at The Corner Store.”
“Wait.” I stand, reaching out to grab her arm. She flinches at my touch. “You’re working at the store?”
She shouldn’t be there. That wasn’t the plan.
She hits me with a fiery glare and untangles from my grip. “You’re not here. Someone has to pick up the slack.”
“I can move in with you,” I tell my father, desperately seeking some sort of calm and order. “I’m home now. I can help.”
“No, you can’t.” Fallon pauses at the door to whip her head to me. Resentment crackles in the space between us. “You said ityourself, Dakota. What if he comes back? What if he comes foryou? He can’t come to the house. Not when Dad’s sick.”
“I’m over seventy,” my father says with a chuckle. “If I go to jail, we all know I ain’t got long. Hell, I’ll tell ’em I’m crazy.”
“That’s not funny,” Fallon scolds.
Suddenly, icy terror grips me. “I’ll leave if he comes to Resurrection,” I whisper. My friends, my family… they’re in danger the longer I stick around. “That’s my plan. Pack up and run.”
“That’s a plan that isn’t happening.” The smoky growl of Davis’s voice curls around my heart like a fist.
Fallon rolls her eyes. “Then you tell me, cowboy. What do we do with her?”
A scream of frustration bubbles up in my lungs. I feel like a charity case. Nowhere to stay, no plan, grappling at the wind for a sense of control.
Maybe coming home was a mistake.
“She stays at the ranch.” Davis’s announcement scorches the air while I blink to make sure I’ve heard him correctly.
The man stands there, arms crossed, expression fierce. Like he has the final say in the matter.
“I don’t think so,” I say, my face hot with anger and frustration.
And yet—goosebumps skate across my skin at the thought of close confines with Davis Montgomery.
This is a bad idea. All of it.
Fallon smirks.“Congratulations,” she says to me, shouldering her bag. Her gaze drops to my stomach. “Don’t expect me to fucking babysit.”
I jump at the hard slam of the door. Davis swears hard under his breath.
