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I’m a mess.
Charlie tugs Ruby’s hat lower over her ears. “We’re headed for a ride, but we wanted to come say hi.” His eyes land knowingly on Davis, then flit back to me. A gesture that tells me Davis told his brother everything. “We’ll see you around, Dakota.”
“Bye.” Ruby waves at us, and then Charlie’s taking her small hand and leading her across the gravel drive to the barn.
“Bye,” I echo.
Seeing them go has the crushing weight of my situation bearing down on my shoulders.
So much of my life feels like it’s gone forever.
Joy. Security. Love.
Not that I can afford to think like that. There will be no more following my heart. I have to make wise choices for me and my baby.
“Dakota?” Davis peers down at me, a frown marring his brow. “You okay?”
“I have to go into town,” I say abruptly, ignoring his question. “I have a doctor’s appointment.”
Tensing, his gaze bounces to my belly. Once again, that same pained expression crosses his face. “Everything okay?”
“I don’t know, Davis,” I grit out. Weary, tired, vibrating with bitterness. “I’ve never done this before.”
His nod is firm. “I’ll take you.”
Heat consumes my face. “Davis, I can—”
He holds up his hand—all rippling muscles and a perpetual scowl—ending my argument. “Let’s get one thing straight, Dakota.” The deepness of his voice intensifies. “Here and now. I go where you go.”
“Fine.”
Turning away from him, I stare into the rising sun until my eyes go blind. My heart pulses angrily against my chest.
One more day. You can make it through one more day.
The town that used to be my home is now a stranger. It’s a different place. Just like I’m a different person.
“Where’s the deli?” I ask Davis as we walk up the street to the clinic.
Main Street is quiet in the afternoon light. A Bobcats banner blows in the chilly winter air as I try not to concentrate on the fact our fingertips keep brushing during our in-sync lockstep. The brief contact does something unfair to my heart. A soft, barely there touch of skin. It’s enough to have electricity sizzling up my arm.
Davis clears his throat. “Turned to a ski shop last year.”
“I remember doing this with you,” I muse, taking in a soft pink sign that says The Last Bookshop on the Left. “Showing you around Resurrection when you first got here.”
A crease forms on his rugged brow, like the memory annoys him. Maybe it does. Maybe all I am is a burden he’s stuck with because of a promise he made to Stede.
Two old men—friends of my father’s—are sitting on a porch swing outside Zeke’s Hardware. I tug my jacket tighter over my belly. Heat shoots into my cheeks when they look me up and down, but say nothing.
They don’t recognize me.
Maybe no one will.
My head swivels as we pass the Neon Grizzly. Even at ten a.m. country music blasts through the windows and every barstool is full.
Right next door is an art gallery. The contrast is staggering.
“The town’s gotten so big,” I breathe.
