She nodded as I released her. She tiptoed upstairs, coming back a few minutes later dressed in blue jeans and a white cotton tank top that played against her sun-kissed skin and the deep hue of her coffee-colored ponytail.
Bumping around less-traveled dirt roads and graded gravel paths that surrounded our hometown, it wasn’t but ten minutes before she’d scooted over to the middle of the truck bench and slipped her arm under mine as she rested her head against the top of my shoulder.
We must’ve drove for hours that morning, sitting in silence mostly because just being together didn’t require a whole lot of words. Dakota by my side felt like a warm hug from a thick blanket on a cool night. A pair of old jeans that fit just right. That warm, flooding feeling that hits a man when he knows he’s come home again. It was a feeling all those millions of dollars sitting in my bank account could never buy, and it was a feeling I’d never been able to replicate since her.
“So tell me what I’ve missed,” I said, breaking the silence as the truck bumped and rolled down a rutted road. The question packed more of a punch to my gut than I’d anticipated the second I said it aloud. “What’s life been like for you the last ten years?”
She sat up, clearing her throat and tugging down on her top. “It’s been mostly good.”
“Mostly?”
“Considering where I started and how I got here, I think I’ve come out a little bit on top.”
“I’d say.”
“I graduated from Kentucky and went straight to the city. Met my ex-husband when I auditioned for a local news show there. Convinced Addison to move and got her lined up with a job. All I’ve done since is work.”
“But are you happy?”
Dakota nodded. “As happy as could be expected. I’d conquer one obstacle and suddenly it wouldn’t feel good enough, so I’d keep reaching higher and higher, searching for that next big thing that might define me.”
“It never feels the way you expect it to.”
“Nope.” Dakota slid her right hand down her thigh. “I’m probably going to get promoted after this interview.”
“You don’t sound too thrilled about it.”
“I am thrilled,” she said, though unconvincingly. “I really am. This could be huge for me. This is a result of everything I’ve ever worked for up until now. The only thing bigger than this promotion would be landing my own primetime news show.”
“And I have no doubt in my mind that if Coco Bissett sets her mind to it, she’s going to achieve it,” I said. “But the important question is, what does Dakota Andrews want?”
I expected her mood to shift like the wind on a stormy day. I expected her to jerk away or turn all sullen on me. Instead she pulled in a deep breath and turned my way.
“I’ve been asking myself that all week, Beau,” she admitted. “I thought I knew. And now all I know is that I don’t know a damn thing anymore.”
A hint of her Kentucky drawl came out to play, like a tiny promise that maybe my goal of getting her back wasn’t all that unrealistic anymore.
“I thought I knew where I was headed.” She shrugged. “Now all I know is I’m stuck between who I am and who I thought I was.”
“And that’s perfectly okay.” My hand found her knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to be so perfect all the time, and you don’t have to have everything figured out all the time either.”
Even in high school, Dakota was a girl who stuck close to her routines and ambitions. She lived her life with a Type A tendency toward structure, giving herself self-imposed deadlines and holding herself accountable the way her mother never could. I couldn’t blame a girl who raised herself since she was old enough to understand she didn’t have a choice in the matter.
The sun held noon in the sky after a bit, and I turned us around to head back home.
“I’ve got a few chores to take care of,” I said as we pulled back up the drive to the house. Back when we dated, she’d watch me do chores. Every Friday night I had to scoop the barn out or salt the cattle before I could take her out on a date. “You’re welcome to watch if you’re feeling nostalgic.”
She bumped into my arm. “I’ll pass. I’ve got to catch up on some emails, and then I’d like to head into town for a bit. I’ll be back for supper.”
I shifted the truck into park and set the brake before slipping my arm around her and leaning in to kiss her soft cheek. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”
We climbed out the cab and I stood back, watching the way her hips swayed as she headed back into the house, completely unaware of the way she walked around with my heart between her teeth.
The things I was going to do to her that night.
Chapter Twenty-One
10 years ago
Sixteen hours and thirty-four minutes. That was how long my labor lasted.
Seven pounds and one ounce. That’s how much my baby weighed.
Eight forty-six in the evening on May seventeenth. That was her exact birthdate.
Three. How many people knew she existed.
Me.
Rebecca.
Sam.
“You want to hold her?” the nurse asked as she rolled the bassinet toward my bed. A stack of adoption paperwork sat untouched on the hospital bedside table next to a huge jug of water.
I stared down at her, sleeping peacefully and wrapped in a thick, flannel blanket with Mercy General Hospital’s logo all over it.
“A social worker will be in here shortly to go over everything with you,” she said tenderly.
“If I hold her, I might change my mind.” I blinked away tears, though unable to take my eyes off her. She looked like a little doll with the tiniest nose and a full head of thick dark hair.
Beau should’ve been there.
I shouldn’t have had to endure my labor with only Rebecca and a bunch of strangers by my side. It should’ve been him.
“Knock, knock,” Rebecca’s voice called from the doorway. She’d stayed overnight at the hospital, and she’d held my hand until three in the morning when I pushed my baby into the world. I’d sent her home to get some sleep. “Brought you something.”
She placed a vase of pink roses on the desk and treaded carefully toward the sleeping baby. Rebecca stared down as if she wanted to touch and hold her, but she was afraid.
“You can pick her up.” The words cut me like a knife. I hadn’t even held her yet.
“You sure?”
I nodded, forcing a smile.
I missed Addison. I wished she were there. The last time I’d seen her was during winter break, and I’d strategically worn hooded sweatshirts the entire time.
Rebecca picked up the baby. My baby. Her baby.
“My goodness,” she said in a soft, motherly voice that came natural to her. “You are just the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen.”
The baby opened her eyes at the sound of Rebecca’s voice.
“Well, hello there!” Rebecca cooed, her lips spreading into the happiest grin I’d ever seen on her.
A knock on the door ushered in Sam, who stood back apprehensively as a social worker pushed past him. With sandy brown hair and a waddle to her walk, she stopped the moment she saw my face.
“I’m going to have to ask the adoptive parents to step out for a moment,” she said, studying me.
Rebecca placed the baby back and stepped out of the room with her husband.
“How are we doing?” the social worker said, pulling a chair up to the side of my bed. “I’m Sandra. I’ll be assisting you with your paperwork. I’m a social worker here at the hospital.”
“I just want to get this over with before I change my mind.”
“Oh.” She lifted her eyebrows, grabbing the papers and a pen and placing them on a clipboard in my lap. She proceeded to ask me several standard questions, most of them geared toward my mental health and family history.
“So it looks like you’re electing for an open adoption with Samuel and Rebecca Valenti
ne as the adoptive parents,” she said, reading over my paperwork. “I noticed there is no birth father listed on the birth certificate paperwork you filled out earlier.”
“He’s out of the picture.” My heart burned with an ache no amount of tender, apologetic looks from Sandy could ever anesthetize. “Long gone.”
Sandy pursed her lips and offered a sorry expression. “I’m not allowed to state opinions here, so this goes off the record. You understand?”
I nodded.
“You seem like a bright young girl, and I know Dr. Valentine from his residency here at the hospital,” she said. “You couldn’t have picked a nicer family for your daughter.”
“I know.”
“I do have to tell you this though, since you’ve not listed a birth father, there is a chance that if the biological father does come back in the picture, he could sue for custody of your daughter,” she said. “It’s rare, but it can happen.”
“Like I said, he’s long gone.”
“Did you get to hold her yet?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“Oh honey, you need to hold her. You’ll regret it if you don’t. So many of my birth mothers say that.” She stood up and picked the baby up, waddling back and placing her gently in my arms.
The physical pain of childbirth had nothing on the kind of pain that seared through my entire body at the thought of giving her away. Of never knowing her.
I waited until the social worker left the room before clearing my throat and whispering the very last thing I’d ever say before I gave my daughter away, “I love you and I’m sorry.”
I could’ve gone on and on. I could’ve explained my reasoning and logic. I could’ve justified my decision six ways from Sunday. Instead, I left it short and simple. Maybe someday I’d get a chance to know her, and maybe when she was an adult woman, I’d sit her down and explain all about how much I loved her and how all I ever wanted was for her to have the best life - the kind of life nineteen-year-old me could never give her.
The social worker returned, glancing over the paperwork one last time before leaving and ushering Sam and Rebecca back in.
“You want to hold your daughter?” I asked Sam as he stood back a ways. He inched closer, taking her in his arms and making her look even tinier. Rebecca peeked over his shoulder as they both looked down at the tiny little angel who suddenly completed their family.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Knock, knock,” I called through the storm door screen of Rebecca and Sam’s colonial.
“Coming,” Rebecca called out. Her lips parted into an open grin the second she saw me. “Dakota!”
She pushed the door open and ushered me in. Piles of neatly folded clothes lined her coffee table.
“I was just doing a little laundry. Excuse the mess.”
Little pink t-shirts and miniature white socks rested in rows next to fluffy white towels in tidy stacks. Her honey hair was pulled back into a perfect chignon just above the nape of her neck. I imagined her weeks were filled with PTA meetings, soccer practice pick ups, and grocery shopping, and yet I’d never seen anyone so happy.
Rebecca wore domesticity the way high fashion models wore couture, with ease and an innate elegance. She made it look so easy. Almost covetable.
“So what brings you by this afternoon?” she asked with a smile as she folded a little pair of pants and smoothed out the crinkles with her hand. I watched as she glanced up at the clock on the wall, which read two o’clock. Most moms would’ve been counting down their final hour of pure silence, but I doubted Rebecca did anything like that.
“I just wanted to come by and say I was sorry,” I said, holding my shoulders back.
“For what, darling?”
“For never coming around.” I tilted my head to the side. “After you and Sam left Lexington with Mabry, I was just sort of in a weird place. I wanted to finish school as fast as I could and get the hell out of Kentucky.”
“I remember that,” Rebecca said with a carefree chuckle, swatting her knee. Maybe it hadn’t bothered her as much as I thought it did? “Weren’t you taking, like, eighteen credits a semester and summer classes and all that? Sam thought you were insane!”
“I was. You know how I get when I have a goal in my head. I do whatever it takes to reach it,” I said, adding, “at any cost.”
Rebecca cleared her throat, her face falling into a serious expression. “Listen, Dakota. Apology accepted but not necessary.” She stood up and began placing her neat stacks of folded clothes into a nearby laundry basket. “People grow up. Their priorities change. They move. They move on. That’s life, darling.”
I placed my hand across my heart. “I still feel horrible, Becca. I mean, it didn’t hit me until I saw Mabry the other day. I’ve missed out on almost the first decade of her life. Your life as a mother. We used to be best friends.”
“Best cousins,” she corrected me. She’d always said best cousins was a hundred times more important than being best friends. It was like having the best of both worlds. Though she’d always been more like a shoulder to cry on and, at times, a surrogate mother figure to me than anything else.
“Yes, best cousins. And I abandoned you – and Mabry - like some selfish asshole.” I shook my head at myself. Someone needed to do it, and Rebecca was too damn sweet.
“Sweetheart, you were in survival mode.” She hoisted the basket against her slender hip. “Sometimes in order to survive, we have to forget. That’s all you were trying to do, Dakota. Forget. And I can’t imagine it’s easy watching someone else raise your child. I might have done the same thing in your shoes. No one holds it against you, Dakota. Believe me.” Her warm gaze washed over me like melancholy rain before she shook her head and sighed. “He really did a number on you.”
“He wants me back, Rebecca.” I rolled my eyes. “Can you believe that? All this time, and he thinks he can just sweep me up off my feet again like the last ten years never happened.”
“Are you going to let him?”
I gathered my thoughts and pushed them to the surface with about as much strength as a knight worn from battle. “I don’t know.”
“If loving and forgiving were that easy, everyone’d be doing it, Dakota.” Rebecca flashed a quaint smile. “Don’t let the past hold your future hostage.”
She left the room with the basket of clothes and returned empty handed a minute later.
“I should head back to the ranch.” I stood up, resting my hands on my hips as I worried my bottom lip. “I just wanted to come out and get that off my chest.”
Rebecca floated toward me, arms wide open, and wrapped me up in the kind of loving embrace I hardly deserved; the kind that flooded me in head to toe warmth and made my eyes wet with happiness.
“Love you,” she said, burying her head on my shoulder the way an older sister might. “I’m always here for you. Know that. And please come around more. We want you in our lives – in her life.”
“I will.” And that time, I meant it.
I soared through the canopy of magnolia trees that led up the Mason Ranch driveway, coming to a slow stop when I reached the top. Beau’s truck rested up on ramps with the hood popped, and the second I climbed out of the car, he emerged from beneath.
Shirtless and wearing the kind of smile that made me think Oh Shit, he sauntered up to me. His body glistened as his muscles subtly shifted beneath his tight, smooth skin.
“Enjoy your time in town?”
“I did.”
He grabbed a dirty rag from the side of the engine and wiped his greasy hands. “About done here. I’ll head inside to clean up. I’ve got a little something planned for this evening.”
My lips pulled into a closed-mouth smile. There he went again, trying to force another date upon me – not that I entirely minded. “What might that be?”
He squinted, showing off a hint of baby wrinkles flanking the corner of his gorgeous blue eyes. His teenage baby face had long since faded, and while Beau had been
a head-turning homecoming king type in his younger years, it was safe to say he’d morphed into a panty-melting, won’t-take-no-for-an-answer grown ass man with a swagger in his step that meant business.
“I’ll meet you back out here about dusk,” Beau said, grabbing a silver wrench that lay in the nearby grass and heading back toward his truck. He flashed me a dimpled grin that flooded my chest with thunderous heartbeats.
Each step I took toward the house was like walking into a web of sticky emotions. I felt them. Everywhere. In me and outside of me. In my hair. On my skin. Tangled and caught, it was only a matter of time before they’d have their way with me. My head was already filling with frilly little thoughts and my heart was already galloping as I formed a schoolgirl crush on Beau all over again.
Beau Mason – the boy who’d obliterated my tender heart. The boy who’d sent me into a tailspin of hasty decisions, desperate for an escape from anything and everything that remotely reminded me our time together.
I laughed at the fact that after everything I’d done to rid myself of his affliction, I’d ended up right back where it all began. Climbing the stairs in the house and running my hands along the rustic railing, I shook my head.
Fool me once, Beau…
Fool me twice…
Chapter Twenty-Three
I slammed the hood down on the truck and backed off the ramps before heading inside to wash up. The faint trail of Dakota’s voice echoed from upstairs, though it sounded like she was on a work call.
Always working, that girl.
She’d been that way since we were young, getting a job as a printing assistant at the local newspaper at fifteen. By the time she was a junior in high school, she’d moved up to some position where they let her assemble the want ad section.
I stepped into the shower, my head filled with all kinds of naughty thoughts as I replayed the night before with a big old stupid grin on my face. Loving Dakota was the easiest thing I’d ever done, and making love to her was the most natural thing in the world.
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