A fresh start. Clean slate. A chance to press the delete key.
And I can’t take my baggage into my new, unsullied landscape.
The knowledge hurts, a real physical ache, dull and in the center of my chest. I set up the charity payments in an attempt at reparation, but also as a way to bring myself comfort. But I can’t move forward into the land of debt-free living while maintaining the status quo.
As much as it pains me, I’m going to need to stop the payments. Tomorrow is the twenty-seventh. Debra is expecting my call.
I get out of the shower and towel off, then grab my phone. Stopping the donation to The Aneurysm Foundation is the easy one. A few swipes and it’s over.
The next one? Not so simple.
I dial the women’s shelter, fingers trembling. It rings and rings, and just when I think I’ll have to leave a message, Debra picks up.
“Hi, Debra, it’s Dakota Wright.”
“You’re a day early,” Debra answers, her tone cheerful. “Same amount, same card?”
The words I have to speak tear at my insides, but I muster the courage. “I need to pause the payments, Debra. I just… can’t anymore. I feel bad, and I hope you know I still think this is a cause so deserving of donations, but—”
“Honey, take a breath. It’s okay. You don’t need to explain yourself to me.”
I exhale. “Thank you.”
“You’ve been more than generous, Dakota. I’d love to meet you sometime if you ever want to stop in.”
“That would be lovely, Debra. Thank you for understanding.”
“Sure thing. I’ve got to go, but you take care.”
We say goodbye and hang up. And that’s it. The chains I wrapped around myself are lifted.
I feel jumpy and weird, full of excess energy.
I’m combing my wet hair when an idea strikes. I got paid yesterday. With my recurring charity donation currently paused, that means I have money. I can buy myself a good pair of hiking shoes and explore one of the local trails.
In less than an hour’s time I’m wearing new shorts, a long-sleeve shirt designed for being in the sun, and hiking shoes. A new hat fits securely on my head. A water bottle holder is clipped to my waist.
I’m following a trail that is said to be moderately strenuous, and crosses over the Verde River in one mile. It’s almost silent, and soon, even my thoughts are quiet.
It’s exactly what I need to relieve the chaos I feel swirling inside me when I’m with Wes.
23
Wes
This is what I love.
Muscles working to the point of screaming exhaustion. Sweat-soaked shirts dried by the sun, dust coating the leather of my boots.
Ranger keeps me beside the herd, guiding them. Warner rides twenty feet behind me, doing his part. Josh, Bryce, Troy, Denny, and Ham make up the remainder of the perimeter. Together, we direct the herd to a new pasture for grazing.
Grass-fed meat is what the people want these days, and fuck if the HCC won’t be the ones to give them the very best pasture-raised, pasture-finished beef.
The cattle make it to the new grass without any trouble. I hop off Ranger and slip his lead around a post. My muscles complain as I stretch, arching my back and rolling my head in a slow circle. The saddle will fuck up your bones, that’s for damn sure.
My eyes are on the herd, but my mind is on Dakota. Sweet, feisty, determined Dakota.
This morning I woke up in her hotel bed. She was gone, but her scent lingered on her pillow, on the sheets, on my clothes. Her red dress was missing from the back of the chair, and her pajamas were in a pile on the ground. Right away I knew she’d gone for breakfast. I sat up in her bed, rubbed my eyes, and thought about what would happen if I kissed her. Blame it on being surrounded by her scent.
I almost did it too, when she returned with breakfast and stared at me without a shirt on. Our agreement nearly sprouted wings and flew out the window. Then she told me I had a nightmare and the wings disintegrated and the agreement crashed back down to earth.
Dakota witnessed the very thing I’d only have revealed if my life depended on it. I’ve had the same dream over and over ever since it happened. That’s the kind of shit I keep locked up tight, but lately, it’s been getting worse. More vivid. It seems to me the further I get from it, the more it should be getting hazy around the edges. I wish that were the case.
And now Dakota knows. It’s like my heart and my mind are in a disagreement, and while I was sleeping my heart went behind my brain’s back and exposed my worst moment. Like some traitorous part of me wanted her to know.
“Where the fuck are you, Wes?” Warner steps into my vision and waves a hand in my face.
I smack it away. “Get your eyes checked, asshat. I’m right here.”
Warner wipes sweat from his upper lip with the side of his hand. “Ten bucks says your mind is wherever it was you stayed last night.”
Technically, he’s right. Just not in the way he thinks.
“Can’t fool you.” I clap a hand on his shoulder.
“How’s Dakota this morning?” He grins, proud of himself because he knows he’s accurately assumed where I was. “Good? Bet she wakes up pretty with all that just-been-fucked hair.”
The hand I still have on his shoulder tightens. He tries to shrink away but my fingers dig in, holding him in place. In a low voice, I say, “You only talk about Dakota in a way that is one hundred percent respectful from now on.” Trying to get a rise out of me is his second favorite hobby (the first being playing with his kids), and normally I don’t bite because I know what he’s doing, but when it comes to Dakota, I can’t seem to take the ribbing.
I release him, but he doesn’t move away. He grins in this goofy way, his playful nature keeping him from getting his feelings hurt. If I’d done that to Wyatt, he’d stalk away sensitive and injured.
As good-natured as Warner is, he’s also really damn insistent. Right now, he’s eyeing me meaningfully.
“What?” I demand, annoyed at his persistence.
“Why do you make it so damn hard?”
My eyes widen in annoyance and my chin makes tiny side-to-side motions. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You’ve never been late for work, Wes. Not a day in your whole damn life, and aside from the time you were in the military, I’ve worked by your side every day. Just allow yourself to talk about Dakota. Admit how much you like her.”
Technically, this is exactly how all this is supposed to be going. My family, or at least Warner, took notice of my absence immediately. It’s the first step toward the Wes and Dakota Fast and Furious relationship. I didn’t think for a second I’d be hurting my brother’s feelings.
But I have. I hear the hurt in his voice. He’s doing that thing again, the one where he wants me to confide in him. I grab my water bottle, take a long drink, and glance at him. Here goes nothing. “You’re correct. I stayed with Dakota last night.”
His eyes light up, but to his credit, he controls his excitement and keeps his mouth shut. Shit. I feel bad. Warner loves, well…love. He’s a romantic at heart. And he wants to see me happy. Just like he used to be with Anna.
“But it wasn’t the first time we’ve stayed together. Do you remember when I got out of the Army and I stopped at my buddy Jason’s place in Colorado on my way home? I met Dakota that night.”