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“Yeah, well, that makes two of us.”
“Tell me what for?”
“Tell you to go fuck yourself.”
“Still a stubborn bastard.” Ferraro makes a sound of annoyance. “I’ll get it to you. Keep in mind the SullyScan is unlicensed and experimental.” He chuckles. “The US government wanted to send me straight to the department of ‘the fuck you invented?’”
The tightness in my chest squeezes. “You named it after Sully?”
“Sure did. He’s the reason I invented it, so least I could do was give it his name.”
“Right,” I rough out. Pain lances through me.
Over the line, the shuffle of papers. “You need it, you’ll get it. I got your six, brother.”
Brother.
I shove the tightness back down, launch into what I need.
Ten minutes later, I end the call. I could have used this favor for anything. A cure for cancer. A muzzle for Wyatt. But I used it for Dakota.
I’m not safe. I’ll never be safe.
Her words from earlier haunt me. I need her to understand I’ve got eyes on her. That I’m here to protect her, and I’ll do everything in my power to do so.
Although, if I have to say it, Dakota seems more worried about coming back to town than her ex following her home. As soon as we left the safety of the ranch and stepped out onto Main Street, nervousness came off Dakota in waves.
I heard the small talk between locals after Dakota left town. No matter how far away Dakota was, her memory was an echo I couldn’t shake. The whispers of her lingered.
Did you hear she left her daddy and that store?
That McGraw girl is out there, going it alone. Let’s see if she makes it.
Shame she ran just like her mama.
She’s ready for the big city? Well, let’s see how much of a big city girl she is when she sees how much everything costs.
I ached to put a fist through the face of anyone who dared talk badly about her.
Pacing across the floor, my focus shifts from the sterile waiting room to the door Dakota disappeared through. I don’t like that she went in alone, but what can I do? It’s better if it’s just her. It’s not my job to go with her.
A door opens.
Dakota walks toward me.
Fuck.She’s been crying. Just the sight alone threatens to take ten damn years off my life.
“Hey,” I say. “Everything okay?”
She sniffles. Forces a lukewarm smile. “Fine. Healthy. I have low blood sugar, but there’s a baby in there.”
Dakota glances down at her belly, and I fight the urge to yank her into my arms and keep her there. She looks so damn sad; she’s carving out my heart.
“I’m eighteen weeks,” she whispers, glancing up at me. “Eighteen. It feels like bad luck.”
“I don’t believe in bad luck.” I don’t want this kind of thinking for Koty.
She holds my gaze, as if she’s considering what to say next, when the lobby door opens.
