45. Dakota
45
DAKOTA
I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve been sitting out here.
My back is seated against the brownstone’s brick wall. I must have fallen asleep after the tears dried.
I haven’t cried like that since the day in the truck with Cal.
It was as if all my feelings flooded to the surface—hurt, pain, sorrow, happiness, joy, love. I seemed to go through a toxic cycle of each emotion in the amount of time since he’s been gone.
Where would he even go?
I start to feel like I’m regaining control again and work myself to stand, holding cautiously against the wall for support.
My head is pounding, and my eyes feel like weights from all the crying I’ve done.
I reach for my phone in hopes of finding missed calls or messages from Callaway, but there’s nothing.
I open a series of texts from Navy, making sure I’m okay .
Navy: You good, Kodi?
Navy: Where did you go? Let me know if you need me. I’m worried.
Navy: I love you. Don’t go easy on him.
At this moment, I’m reminded how much I need my best friend. I text Navy quickly, hoping she sees my message sooner than later.
Dakota: Front door. Please.
Navy: On it, babe.
The sound of Navy opening the front door and rushing to my side brings a rush of tears to my eyes. I know it puts her in a weird place—me crying over her brother at their parents’ house—but I need her. I need not to feel alone for a minute.
As soon as I see her, I allow myself the luxury to fall apart.
“I didn’t hear much, but wanna tell me what happened?” Navy asks.
I whimper on a soft sob, “He…he left, Navs. I told your mom how much I cared about him and that he’s part of why I turned down a job offer. All he heard was a job offer before storming out. He didn’t ask me; he assumed the worst.”
Navy wraps me in her arms and studies me intentionally, “Do you want me to listen or fix it?” She knows. Navy knows my parents would ask each other the same thing, and I always admired it.
“I love you, Navs,” I cry out to her, “but I’d never want to involve you. I’m just hurt.”
“Kodi, you will always be a priority to me,” she admits, pulling me back and reaching for my hand to draw me close to her. “But let me tell you something about my brother: he has abandonment instincts. As much as I want to share them with you, I feel that’s his story to tell. But I can tell by watching the two of you together tonight that he loves you.”
I nod quietly, “I know. I can feel it when I’m with him.”
Navy looks at me carefully, “He should have done better by you; that’s a fact. Just give him a chance to explain and make things right. As much as he annoys the shit out of me most days, his heart is pure.”
I know it is. But I need him to know that the way he handled it was not okay.
“You better give him shit, though. He doesn’t get off that easy,” she adds.
The sound of Callaway’s Jeep rounding the corner confirms his return, and I take one last look at Navy before holding her tightly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Navy Willow Hayes.”
Her soft giggle comforts me, “I am pretty great…kidding. Give him hell before you share your love for him. I know you love him, but it won’t kill him to sweat first.”
I’ve got the best friend in the entire world.
Navy disappears back into the house, leaving me here to wait for the inevitable.
A heavy feeling of nausea washes over me.
Oh, God. I’m gonna puke.
I stand back as Callaway’s Jeep pulls to a stop in the driveway.
He makes no move to get out. I don’t think he sees me, likely expecting me to have gone home after the show he put on.
I watch from the corner of the house as he grips the steering wheel in front of him while banging his head repeatedly. It’s not enough to hurt, but it’s clearly like he’s trying to rid his thoughts of something .
Join the club.
I’ll be trying to erase this night from my brain indefinitely.
A calm settles over me as I watch him stare into oblivion. Somehow, I understand that feeling. There’s a peace that comes with silence.
It is crucial for processing your thoughts.
Deciding I’ve been here long enough, I slowly walk from the side of the house and into his line of sight. I will call an Uber, but I want to give him a chance to speak first.
I will be the one to give him that.
He finds me in seconds as a look of shock paints his handsome face.
I’m standing outside the driver-side front tire, waiting for him to get out. He quickly opens the door before climbing out and staring at the ground with his arms crossed at his chest.
“You’re here.” Yes, because I don’t run from my problems.
“I am.” My voice is calm, and I hope he hears the hurt behind my words.
“Why did you stay?” He’s looking at me now. I knew he would wonder why I would stay; it makes sense.
“Because I didn’t want you to be alone. Not that you deserve that, but I couldn’t help it.”
He’s lost in thought. We both are.
This is one of those moments where I’m not sure the best way to go about this conversation. If I approach him defensively, he’s sure to react, but if I approach him gently, maybe we can talk through this peacefully.
Cal has never once raised his voice at me or shown any sign of distress, always having it all together.
The twisted side of my brain is thankful he’s shown proof of being human—something less than perfect.
I’ve shown him more of my flaws than I’m proud of, but if I know anything about relationships, which isn’t much, those parts are equally as important as those suggesting control.
Working through this together will give us both the solace we need.
He stands rigidly by the Jeep, and my body feels a rush of coldness.
Letting the darkness of the night act as a shield to my vulnerability, I speak out to him, “Callaway.”
Sorrow reads in my tone, no doubt letting him know I’m upset.
At this point, I couldn't care less if he knew I broke down with his sister.
I’m standing three feet away from him, unmoving, waiting for his words to creep in; my gold paper clip bracelet is the only object of my concentration at the moment. I can’t let myself look at him.
I’m giving him a chance to start.
Why does this feel so painful, and we have yet to even speak?
This is why I’ve avoided love for so long.
“I think it’s best if I take you home. We can talk about this tomorrow.”
Surely, I misheard him.
His frustration doesn’t bother me. At least it’s showing me how he really feels , but I won’t accept his dismissal.
I don’t have it in me to be silenced again.
“No.”
Cal’s head jerks in my direction, clearly thrown off by my refusal.
Well, you can kiss my ass, Ocean Eyes.
I’m not going anywhere until we talk.
The coldness in his stare is tangible. I shouldn’t be making excuses for him, but I know this isn’t him. This is the side of Callaway Hayes that screams fear and potential loss. If he had asked me about the job, he would know I declined it, and all of this could have been avoided, at least the him leaving part.
Except, he assumed the worst in me over something he thought he heard without letting me speak for myself.
Therefore, I have a right to be upset.
However, I know he’s hurting too, and that makes my pain greater.
I have to stand my ground before I fall at his feet.
“What are we doing, Callaway?”
I’m being assertive with him for once.
His blue eyes latch onto mine. He’s eyeing me up and down, not like a meal for once, but more like he’s trying to commit me to memory in case this ends between us. I can’t stand it.
He resembles the definition of a tortured man.
His black hair, which was neatly styled at one point tonight, is a disaster on top of his head, and he couldn’t look more tortured if he tried. I’ll take him any way he lets me, even frustrated and from a distance.
Callaway runs his thick fingers through his hair, and the dig deeper tattoo inked along his forearm emphasizes his strong veins in tension.
“I don’t even know anymore, Dakota. Why don’t you tell me? For all I know, you may already have a new place in Denver by now.”
Wow. Might as well cut me wide open. The hits keep on coming.
He thinks this is the end.
I want to put his mind at rest, but it’s not simple.
“That’s not fair. ”
A loud huff leaves his lips, “You're serious right now? I had no idea about this potential job opportunity for you until I overheard my girlfriend sharing her exciting news with my mom. It would have been nice to be the first to know. I thought you had more respect for me than that. I mistakenly assumed we were on the same page enough to share those things. I’m seeing now that I was very wrong.”
I’m doing my best to see his side in this.
I want to give him the benefit of the doubt in his reaction, but I can’t help but feel like, despite everything we’ve been through and as far as I’ve come, he still sees me as I was on day one. The woman I was five months ago would have run by now and taken the job for an easy way out. The woman I am today didn’t have to think twice about who I couldn’t imagine leaving; he is my every reason to stay.
I can’t help my reaction.
“You’re girlfriend ? Cal, not once have we sat to discuss what we are. You called me that on your own.”
“I didn’t think we had to! I feel like I do a pretty damn good job at showing you how fucking crazy I am about you, Dakota! The label of what you are to me should go without saying.”
He’s right.
He’s shown me every day how important I am to him. His definition of us, however, has always been based on him, never on me. He knew ahead of time it would take me longer to catch up.
“You do. You always have. But talking about these things helps me process. Cal, if this is a relationship, then some things will require both of us to agree on and talk through—especially labels.”
He seems to ignore my comment and circles back to the initial problem .
“That still doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me about the job.”
“You think you have it all figured out, don’t you? At what point did you think to ask me what your mom and I were talking about, and what came from the phone call before huffing and puffing and running off like a child? I didn’t even get a chance to finish speaking, Callaway. You don’t know this, but I started the conversation by telling your mom that I was in love with you. I’m in love with you, Cal. But you overheard the tail end of it and jumped to conclusions. How did I deserve that?”
I’m not sure if that thought gets through to him. He thinks as he runs his hand over his scruff with his arms crossed while looking into the distance. Even when he’s frustrating the shit out of me, he still takes my breath away.
The jaw muscles in his face are clenching like he’s fighting back his words.
“Maybe I’m not ready for the answer yet.”
His breathing slows down as I follow his eyes cast towards the gravel driveway.
We’re standing so far from each other that my body instinctively tries to move towards him, fighting my logic. I find myself strong enough to stay firmly planted.
“Your reaction surprised me. I’d like to make sure nothing is left unspoken between us—so I’ll voice my side. I declined.”
His eyes shoot up to mine, hopefully now filled with regret.
“If you would have let me finish, you’d know that. There was nothing to even think about, so I wasn’t in any rush to share. It meant nothing.”
His silence is deafening, so I continue.
“I’ll go ahead and answer the next question I know is coming while I’m on it. I declined because Denver never stood a chance, Callaway. All my favorite people are in Atlanta: the team that feels like family is here , the memory of my parents is here, but most importantly, the man I am hopelessly and madly in love with is here. You’re here, Callaway , and there was no other option but to stay. I don’t even know if I’ll be offered a more permanent job with the Strikers again after this season, but that had zero hindrance in my want. No, I’m sorry, my need to be wherever you are.”
The silence between us could bring a congregation of worshippers to their knees; the tension and passion are left open-ended, waiting for closure.
I think I’ve stunned him.
His beautiful eyes pin me straight through my soul.
Good. I look forward to continually surprising him.
He’s clearly judging where I stand right now. I’m not mad; I’m disappointed more than anything.
He begins inching towards me with regret written across his face. His tall frame takes its place in front of me as his thumb gently glides across my cheek.
“Seeing you upset like this fucking kills me. Tell me what you need. I’m such an idiot, Dakota.”
He’s pleading, and it almost makes me collapse at the sight of his brokenness.
Obviously, he has more to say, but he’s more worried about how he can care for me. I wish his care were what I needed right now. It would make pulling away so much easier.
The tears I’m holding back fight like hell to escape, as one lonesome drop falls slowly down my cheek, and I quickly turn my head to try and hide it.
“You are everything to me. I want you to know that and hold onto it. I’m upset, but we will be okay. I’m still going to be here tomorrow; that’ll never change. Yet, I need time to process. Even though I didn’t accept it, your response confirmed you’d never support me accepting another job for myself. I’m hurt you wouldn’t consider my career important enough to leave, while yours is indefinitely secured. This job could have been my only option for a stable livelihood, Cal. I passed on it for you. I understand you were afraid, and I’m so sorry if I put that fear there, but I wish you would have heard me out before assuming the worst.”
His face falls, and I swear my heart shatters into a million tiny pieces, the ramifications of its destruction feeling overwhelming.
This is me being my advocate for once.
I know he loves me. I feel it every second I’m with him.
Callaway needs to trust me enough to show him I’ve caught up, and our endgame is now the same.
I take a soft step back from where we’re standing and lift my eyes to him, hoping he can clearly read the emotions I’m wearing.
“I need a little bit of time. Please give me that. I’ll call myself a ride home.”
He’s rushing after me before I can stop him. “Dakota, please let me take you home, baby. Please don’t leave me. I want to make sure you get home safely.”
Don’t leave him?
“You left me!” I’m yelling, and I can’t stop myself.
His eyes shoot to mine. I’ve never once yelled at him or around him.
My voice drops an octave. This is where the hurt comes through. I’m not capable of hiding it.
He means too much to me.
“You left me…you left me. I went after you, Callaway. But you were gone. You have a family and the team, and I’m so glad that you do, but I have no one. Not one person to call for help who isn’t already connected to you. Not one person to cry to and ask for advice from. Not one person who loves me outside of Navy—but she’s still your sister. Not one person to be on my side and to advocate for me . I thought I had you…but you left me, like everyone always has, and you didn’t think twice about how it would make me feel. That hurts like hell.”
I can’t decide if I should look at him or not. My head falls as the tears invade. I feel drained and so emotionally exhausted my body physically feels the weakness of what’s lacking.
“Dakota.”
My hand raises on its own. “Please don’t.”
I’m grateful he gives me the space I’m requesting.
I turn to look at him and smile with as much reassurance as I can muster. “My ride's here. Please let me go, and we will talk soon.”
I don’t look back to see if he follows.
Space will do us good.
He’s layered in raw goodness, which is why I know it’s killing him not to see me home safely. It’s who he is. But I know firsthand that nothing good can come from a conversation stemming from pain yet to be explored.
We both need to evaluate our futures.
I hope they still align.