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“Koty?” Fallon says, her voice softer. Smaller,frightened, far off and away.
It’s him. He’s here.
My vision tunnels, and my knees give out so sharply the impact causes me to bite my tongue. Warm blood fills my mouth. On a cry, I sink to the ground, wrapping my arms around my legs and burying my face in my knees as much as my belly will allow.
“Dakota?” Fallon’s hand wraps around my shoulder. She’s so close she could climb into my lap. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t breathe,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut and gripping my dog tag like a life preserver. Over and over again, I jam the panic button. “Davis. I need Davis.”
The rush of boots across linoleum. The jingle of the bell above the door.
Silence. Torturous silence because I can’t be sure Aiden isn’t on the other side of that door.
Then, “Dakota.”
I nearly weep in relief.
That voice. Smooth. Safe. As rich and as deep as an aged whiskey. When I raise my head, I find Davis’s warm brown eyes on mine, concern etched all over his face.
On his knees in front of me, he settles a firm hand on my wrist. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“No.” I tip my head back and blink my wet eyes. “No.”
His gaze moves to my stomach, and he spends a long time looking at me before asking, “Is the baby okay?”
My breath trembles. “Yes.”
“What happened?”
“I saw him,” I whisper.
“Who?”
A moan slips from my mouth. “Him.”
Davis whips his head to Fallon, who shrugs.
Storm clouds gather in my chest. “You have to believe me.”
“I do, Cupcake.” His voice is soft and free of doubt, unlike the cops who told me there was nothing they could do. I shudder out a relieved sob. This man. I may hate him for not kissing me, but I love him to death for believing me.
Despite his calm voice, tension breaks in his face. A lethal kind of focus. Davis shifts, his dark gaze sweeping across the store. “Lock the door, Fallon, and stay inside.”
And that’s when I start shaking. Shaking like I’ve fallen into the coldest part of a lake in winter. Even with my cheeks flushed hot, even with a sweater, I’m freezing.
“Dakota.” His voice is so low, but I can hear the desperate edge to it.
“What’s wrong with her?” Fallon asks in a small voice. She’s frozen against the counter, hands clutched to her chest.
“Panic attack.” Davis scoots closer, his eyes still holding mine. “But we got this, don’t we, Cupcake?”
I try to wrap my arms around myself to warm the chill, but Davis takes over that duty. His big frame settles beside me and he cocoons me in his arms.Comfort. Home.His chest rises and falls and his skin is so hot, but it’s still not enough to take away the tremor in my bones.
“Breathe, Dakota,” Davis says softly. “You’re safe. Just breathe.”
I’m unraveling in front of him, but he has me.
Davis is made for this. His eye contact, his body language, everything. He is a safe space that is made forme.
