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“Pull it together,” I tell myself, running a shaky palm over my stomach. Reaching over, I grab the dog tag from the broken lock box on the passenger seat and slip the chain around my neck.
I unbuckle my seatbelt, grab my cell phone, and hurry out of the car.
Gritting my teeth, I heft my duffel bag over my shoulder. All my meager belongings, my entire savings that I packed in a frantic haste to get away from Aiden.
I gasp as icy sheets of rain hit me, a chill so fierce I’m shivering even in my thick winter jacket.
Over the deafening sound of my heart, I run up the shoulder of the road. The neon sign of the LIGHTS OUT MOTEL is my beautiful beacon.
I cross the gravel parking lot and stop under the motel eave.
My body goes limp with relief when I see I have cell service.
Then I tense.
I have one missed call from Aiden.
“Fuck,” I whisper, wrapping my numb fingers around the dog tag.
I stare at it for one heartbeat. Then two. Then I swipe the notification away and dial a number I’ve known my entire life.
“Dakota?”
The minute I hear my father’s whiskey-weathered voice, relief floods my entire body. I choke on a sob, feeling a little less alone, wondering why I didn’t ask for help two years ago.
“Daddy,” I choke out.
“Wasn’t expecting to hear from you today, daydreamer.”
I hate the surprise that stains his voice. I shake off the sting. I can’t blame him. I’m well aware I’ve barely called him over the last year.
“Daddy,” I say again. My voice sounds so small, so frightened, that I wince. “Something bad happened.”
Instantly, he’s on alert. That roughrider who rode bulls and busted broncs and would always do anything to help me. “You need help, Koty?”
“Yes,” I whisper, feeling like I’ve died and gone to hell. I fight down the sob that tries to escape. “I’m in trouble. My car brokedown. I’m—I’m—” I search the road for a sign. “I’m in Sioux Falls.”
“You hurt, baby girl?”
I look down at my arm, knowing nothing can prepare my father for this. “I am.”
“You tell me where you are and I’ll make it right.”
My father sounds out of breath, huffing. I can hear the frantic jingle of keys, and I flash back to my senior year and the kegger thrown at Lionel Wolfington’s house. I called him to come get me because my entire class was drunk off their asses and I wanted to go home.
My father erupts in a series of hacking coughs that have me wincing.
Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong at home.
“I’m at the Lights Out Motel. I need to come home.” I jump clear out of my skin when a stranger sweeps past me. I flinch, hating the way I’m as skittish as a whipped horse. “Fast, Daddy.”
“I’m sending Davis.”
“No,” I blurt. Even though the minute my father saysDavis, my mind automatically sayssafe.
“Dakota—”
“Please.” I move closer to the bright light of the soda machine. “I don’t want Davis.”
