by Larissa Ione
“Diet?” Marcus frowned as he pulled back and looked down at her slender figure, of which way too much was visible in the skimpy black outfit she was wearing. “You’ve got to be kidding. You’re a rail.”
“I know.” Dakota smiled and batted her eyes, soaking up the compliment. “But if I don’t take care of myself now, I’ll end up like...” She trailed off, but her gaze flickered over to their mother for a brief second. “I just don’t want to ever let myself go, you know?”
Mallory snorted. “You’re going to end up living on welfare with five kids from different fathers eventually, so why fight it?”
“Knock it off, you two,” Joanne scolded. “Marcus just got home. Can we give it a couple of days before we scare him off?”
“Whatever.” Dakota rolled her eyes. “I’m only here for a minute anyway. I have plans tonight and don’t want to be late.”
Well, that explained why she looked like she was ready to party. At a strip club. He might not know his sister all that well anymore, but he knew women, and this one was either on the prowl for a man, or she already had a man and was trying to keep him.
“Who’s the guy?” he asked.
Reaching up to finger what looked like expensive earrings, she smiled coyly. “A girl never reveals her secrets.”
“Then you might want to put on a longer skirt,” Mallory muttered.
“Ha. Ha.” Dakota shot Mal the finger.
“All right,” Marcus said gently but firmly. “Mom said to knock it off, so knock it off.”
Mallory went back to eating her cake, and shockingly, Dakota nodded, looking suitably contrite. “Sorry. I gotta go. Are you staying here? I can come by later, or you could come see my apartment.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave a brief squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere for now. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”
“Dakota,” Joanne said, “I’m glad you stopped by. I wanted to ask if you’d be willing to volunteer for one of the Founders’ Day committees. We really need more help on several of them.”
Dakota hefted her purse higher up on her shoulder and didn’t even bother to look at Joanne. “Sounds like a lot of work, and I’m busy.” She reached out and playfully punched his shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”
With that, she took off, leaving a relatively light path of destruction. But some inner barometer warned Marcus that a storm was building, and when it finally broke, no one was going to escape unscathed.
Chapter Four
Dakota Alvarez was pissed.
Last night she’d waited for two hours at a fleabag motel for her lover, and he’d never shown. Oh, he’d sent a texted apology and a promise to make it up to her, but dammit, she could have been spending time catching up with Marcus instead of lying on a lumpy bed and watching blurry Law and Order reruns on an ancient TV that didn’t even have a remote control.
Sebastian had texted again this morning wanting to meet for a covert lunch a couple of towns away, but she didn’t reply. He was going to have to work for her forgiveness. She’d give it, no doubt, but it never hurt to make a man sweat a little.
Plus, maybe he’d feel guilty enough to buy her a necklace or bracelet to match the earrings he’d given her.
Smiling at the thought, she checked her makeup in her rearview mirror as she pulled into her mom’s driveway. Marcus was sitting on the porch swing with a glass of iced tea, looking casual and relaxed in faded jeans, a black Jack Daniels T-shirt, and cowboy boots. When he saw her get out of the car, he waved.
“How’d the date go last night?” he called out.
Her sandals slapped against the pavement and her white and orange striped sundress flapped around her thighs as she walked toward him. “What did I say about secrets?” she teased.
He grinned, his smile so like their father’s that her heartbeat stuttered a little. But maybe now that Marcus was back, Hector would come home. Surely, he wanted the family to be together, right?
Putting that question on the back burner, she climbed the porch steps. “So what are you doing sitting out here all by yourself?”
“I’m waiting for Logan. He called this morning to say he’s got some sort of surprise planned.”
Dakota flipped her hair over her shoulder. She’d just had highlights put in to brighten her dark blonde curls, but so far no one had noticed. Sebastian would, she was sure of it. “With Logan, that could mean anything from fishing to drag racing.”
“Nah. He was always trying to talk me out of racing.” He gestured to his tea. “Want a glass?”
“I’m fine, thanks.” She peered through the screen door. “Where are Mom and Mallory?”
“No idea. They were gone when I got up.” He smiled sheepishly. “I sort of slept in. I’d still be sleeping if Logan hadn’t called.”
She propped her hip against the porch railing, careful not to snag her dress on a nail or splintered wood. “Didn’t you work on a ranch? You should be used to getting up at the butt crack of dawn, shouldn’t you?”
He took a sip of his tea. “I guess after so many years of that, I needed to catch up on some Z’s.”
“I’ll bet it felt good, didn’t it?” She couldn’t imagine not getting to sleep in on weekends. She really couldn’t even complain about weekdays, since she didn’t have to be at her job at the bank until eight-thirty.
“It was awesome,” he admitted. “But it was weird to sleep in my old bed.”
“Weird? Why?”
He shrugged. “I don’t fit like I used to.” There was an odd note in his voice, and she wondered if he was talking about only the bed.
“Isn’t Mom making you feel welcome? Because you could stay with me if you want. My couch is pretty comfy.”
“It’s not Mom.” He looked at the houses across the street, and his gaze grew distant. “It’s the town. It’s everything. I feel like a stranger.”
Well, whose fault was that? If he hadn’t left, he wouldn’t feel like an outsider. She kept her thoughts to herself, though. She’d always loved him like crazy, but they hadn’t kept in touch much while he’d been away, and she wasn’t sure how to navigate their new relationship yet.
“You’ll get back into the swing of things, I’m sure,” she said. “By the time Founders’ Day gets here, it’ll be like you never left.”
“Speaking of Founders’ Day,” he said, turning back to her, “you should reconsider Mom’s offer to serve on a committee.”
She shook her head in disgust. “So lame.”
“Come on, Dakota,” he urged her. “You should do it.”
“Why?”
Leaning back, Marcus stretched out his long legs and crossed his booted feet at the ankles, letting the swing rock slightly in the breeze. “For one thing, it’ll look good on a resume.”
Well, that was true.
“And for another, it’ll be good for you and Mom. She just wants to spend time with you.”
Which was exactly what Dakota was afraid of. “She only wants to suck up because she feels guilty for running off Dad and making us town gossip fodder.”
Marcus’s mouth tightened into a grim line. “You can’t honestly believe he left because of Mom.”
“Why else would he have taken off the way he did? She didn’t even try to make him happy. He was always mad, and that was all on her.” When Marcus shook his head, she pressed him. “What? You don’t remember what it was like to live here?”
“Oh, I remember,” he said, his voice going low. “That’s why I left. You’re right. Dad was always mad, but it wasn’t because of her. He’s an angry person, and he took it out on her. Big difference.” He studied her so intently that she damned near started to squirm like a kid called to the principal’s office. “You need to take a step back and look at things without that bias you’ve always had against Mom.”
She jerked in surprise. She expected Mallory to blindly champion their mother and skewer their father, but she’d thought Marcus was more level-headed than that.
&
nbsp; “Thanks for the lecture, Marcus. But you have no idea what you’re talking about. You think you can just waltz back into our lives and throw around advice after you ran off the way you did? You gave up your right to have any say in family business a long time ago.”
God, he was so annoying. How had he turned out more like Mom than Dad?
“You’re right,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I need to earn my place again. But you don’t know the whole story about why I took off. Your loving dad wasn’t so loving to me. I couldn’t do anything right. Or good enough. Or fast enough. You learned to use a damned straw and he was all praise, like you were the first kid in history to drink chocolate milk through a plastic tube. But when I learned to ride a bike, all I heard was how long it took me and how many times I fell off. If I mowed the lawn, I didn’t get a ‘Thanks.’ I got a ‘Took you long enough,’ and ‘You missed a bunch of spots.’”
She sniffed. “He was just encouraging you to do better.”
“Was he encouraging me to do better when he took a belt to me? Or when he kicked a dent in my car just to dare me to get pissed and take a swing at him? Or how about when he called me a fucking pussy for getting choked up when Lucky died? Oh, and you know Lucky didn’t get hit by a car, right? Nope. Dad made me watch when he took that poor old dog out and shot him because he was tired of feeding him.”
Her mouth went dry, and she had to swallow a few times before she could speak. She’d loved that sheepdog. He’d followed her everywhere. Slept at the foot of her bed every night.
“I’m sure Lucky was sick or something,” she said. “Daddy probably didn’t take him to the vet because Mom couldn’t budget the money—”
“Seriously, Dakota?” He stared at her like she was crazy, which only pissed her off more. “Out of everything I just said, you still managed to bring it back to Mom and how she screwed up? Do you not remember all the yelling and breaking shit? The times he’d come home drunk, and we’d have to tiptoe around him so he wouldn’t lose his temper? Or how about the times he gambled away all the money, and Mom would have to work extra hours so she could buy groceries? Then there are my favorite memories of all those accidents Mom had. She must have set some kind of record for walking into doors and falling down stairs.”
Her face grew hot as anger spiked. She didn’t remember it being as bad as all that. No, she remembered how she’d been sick a lot as a child and how, when she’d felt helpless and frightened, Daddy’s strong arms had made her feel protected and secure. She recalled how he’d always come home from work early with ice cream when she had a fever. She even remembered how they’d made up their own secret, silly language. Daddy had been everything to her. Everything.
“Screw you, Marcus,” she snapped. “Our dad could be dead for all we know, and you’re making all these accusations he can’t defend because he’s not here.” She’d had it with her brother. He was just like Mallory.
“Tell me, Dakota.” He sat forward on the swing, legs spread, the drips from the condensation on his glass hitting the porch in fat plops that seemed oddly loud. “Why do you hate Mom so much?”
She shoved away from the railing, sick of this conversation. “I don’t hate her. Not really. I just don’t respect her. Dad gave her a house and a family, and she still couldn’t make him happy. She’s weak. She has no backbone. All he wanted was for her to stand up to him once in a while. I asked him once why he was always yelling at her, and he said it was because he was trying to make her stronger. Trying to make her stand up for what she wanted, otherwise life would roll right over her.”
Marcus barked out a laugh. “That’s bullshit. He wanted her to stand up to him so he could justify raising a hand to her. That’s how abuse works, Dakota. She’s not the weak one. He is.”
Daddy? Weak? He was the one who had taught her to be strong. To go after what she wanted and not settle for less than perfection. To never let anyone get away with hurting her. If Marcus thought their father was weak, then he must think the same thing of her, too.
“Go to hell, Marcus.” She stormed off the porch just as Joanne was pulling up to the curb in front of the house. She didn’t even glance her mother’s way. Instead, she looked back over her shoulder at her brother. “I liked you better when you were in Montana.”
She climbed into her car and cranked the engine, wondering why the only man in her life who wasn’t a jerk was the one who was gone.
* * * *
Well, that had gone well, hadn’t it?
Marcus rubbed his temple to stave off the beginnings of a headache. God, if this was what dealing with Dakota was going to be like, he’d need to invest in aspirin.
Dakota peeled out of the driveway as Joanne walked across the lawn toward the porch. “What’s your sister upset about today?”
“I dunno. The sky is blue?”
Joanne sighed. “Sounds about right.” She glanced at the space on the pavement where Dakota’s car had been and shook her head. “I have no idea how to deal with her.”
“Clearly, neither do I.” He threw back a big gulp of his now-warm tea.
“Don’t give up on her,” Joanne said. “She’s hurting. She misses her father so much.”
Yeah, Marcus had never understood that one. Oh, he got why Dakota would have loved their dad so much. After all, Hector had doted on her the way he’d never doted on him or Mal. But why was he so attached to her?
“Mom, why has Dad always had such a close connection with Dakota?”
Joanne pursed her lips and glanced down at the keys in her hand, and instantly, he got an uneasy feeling. Well, uneasier. They still hadn’t discussed the reasons he’d left, and he felt like he was walking on eggshells every time the subject of his father came up.
“Mom?” he prompted gently.
Still, she hesitated, and just as he was about to press more, she blew out a long, shaky breath.
“We never told any of you,” she began, “but Dakota’s birth was really hard. She and I both nearly died. She was a fighter, though, and I think that between your dad’s guilt and her struggles to survive, he bonded with her in a way he didn’t with you and Mallory.”
Guilt? He knew better than to ask straight out why Hector would feel guilty about anything because Joanne would shut down. Make excuses for him. Blame herself. So he took a roundabout way, hoping she’d reveal more than she would otherwise.
“Why was her birth so difficult?” Marcus didn’t remember any of that. Sure, he’d only been five years old when she was born, but he still didn’t recall anything out of the ordinary.
Joanne waved her hand dismissively. “It was so stupid. Your father and I were fighting about money on the way home from grocery shopping. I lost my temper and tried to get out of the car, but my purse got caught in the door.” She looked down at her feet as if her scuffed shoes were fascinating. “I shouldn’t have gotten out. Like I said, it was stupid.”
“Wait. Are you saying he took off and you got dragged?”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head a little too vehemently, and he wondered who she was trying to convince—him, or herself. “I mean, I let go of the purse after a few feet, but I was so fat and ungainly that I lost my balance and tumbled into a ditch. I went into labor and started bleeding, and for a while it was touch and go for both of us. But obviously, it all worked out fine.”
Son of a bitch. Hector had tried to leave a pregnant woman on the side of the road in the middle of summer. And now that she mentioned it, he remembered his father’s constant criticisms of how “fat” and “ugly” she’d been while pregnant with both Dakota and Mallory. What an asshole.
“Tell me he came back for you,” Marcus ground out.
“A nice couple visiting from Galveston saw me fall and took me to the hospital. Your father came as soon as he heard. He was so upset. He even brought me flowers.”
Flowers? To make up for leaving her in a fucking ditch? Marcus’s hands began to tremble with the force of his anger. His dad was damned lucky he wasn’
t here right now. Marcus hadn’t been this pissed since the day he’d left Storm, and the only reason he’d gone was that he’d been sure Hector wouldn’t hurt the girls. His mother...he’d figured that if she was crazy enough to stay, she was going to have to deal with the consequences.
Now he knew better. It had taken a lot of time, plus Ian’s help, to realize that his mother hadn’t been crazy; she’d been stuck in a cycle of abuse, control, and denial she couldn’t escape from.
So he got it. But there were still times when emotions overruled logic, and the anger would come rushing back. Anger that when things got bad between him and Hector, when it was clear that one of them was going to have to go, it was Marcus she’d sent away.
She’d chosen an abusive asshole over her son.
He wasn’t going to say that, though. It wasn’t fair, and she didn’t need condemnation. She needed support and encouragement so that the next time she was in a relationship she’d be strong enough to not put up with anyone’s shit. Or so that when and if Hector came back, she’d have enough self-esteem to kick his ass to the curb.
Or into a ditch.
And if she didn’t do it, Marcus would.
The deep, rumbling sound of an engine approached, and a second later, Logan pulled his black Camaro in behind Joanne’s car. Thankful for his buddy’s timely arrival, Marcus stood.
“I don’t know what we’re doing today, but is there anything you need while I’m out?”
She took his glass from him. “Nope. Go enjoy yourself.”
He hugged her fiercely, hoping she could feel how much he loved her. “I put some money on the table for groceries and utilities.”
“What? Marcus, that’s not necessary—”
“Mom,” he interrupted. “I’ve got money. I didn’t have much to spend it on in Montana, so don’t fight me on this. I’m happy to help out, and in case you forgot, I eat a lot.” He shot her a wink, the one that had always charmed her and got him his way. “Speaking of which, I’ll bring home pizza tonight. It’s not Saturday without pizza and a movie.”