Chapter 9 Dakota
CHAPTER NINE
Dakota
Charlie was on his last legs as the parade came to an end, so when Alice offered to take him home, and I saw how happy he was with that plan, I agreed.
Actually, Violet agreed. Now she’s dragging me inside the bar to let my hair down. I roll my eyes as she tells me I need to have some fun, but secretly, I’m into the idea. It’s been a while since I could just be.
We’re greeted with the low hum of conversation, clinking glasses, and country tunes. It feels like the whole town is here.
I catch eyes with people I haven’t seen for a while, such as Abilene Kentwood, who was in my math class, and class clown Willy Kane. Their smiles remind me that while time has passed, I’ll never be able to escape this place completely.
It’s not the kind of night I usually crave. This place is lively, and there’s definitely a bit of rowdiness in the air. I follow Violet to a booth, trying not to feel like I’ve got a target on my back. Or, more accurately, like I’m wearing a sign that says “definitely not ready for this.”
Violet doesn’t waste any time.
She orders drinks before I can even sit down, and I’m already laughing at her. “You’re relentless.”
“Duh,” she says with a wink, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she slides into the booth across from me. “You need to unwind. We’re going to have some fun, even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming.”
I roll my eyes again, but I can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. “Okay, okay. I’ll try to relax, but no promises.”
Violet flashes me a grin that says she’s already won this round.
She holds up her beer, and I clink my glass against it. “To not thinking about anything but having a good time.”
I take a sip, the cool drink sliding down my throat. The world slows down for a second. This is what I needed. Just a little space to breathe, a little room to feel like myself again, instead of just being Charlie’s mom or the girl with a secret. Just Dakota for a change.
I’m halfway through my beer when I start to feel it. That familiar strain. Someone’s eyes boring into me from across the room.
I glance around, pretending I don’t feel anything, but sure enough, my gaze lands on him.
Clint.
Of course it’s Clint.
He looks like he just stepped out of a Western movie. That broad, rugged frame, the worn jeans, and the deep mahogany-colored cowboy boots. He’s talking to a couple of the other ranch hands, but his gaze is locked on me, and I feel it even from across the room.
Don’t look at him, I tell myself, but it’s like trying to ignore a freight train coming at you.
I look away quickly, as if I didn’t just get caught staring at him like a fool. But Violet, of course, notices.
She’s already looking at Clint. I feel her gaze slide over to me, her grin pulling wider.
“Ooh, it’s like we’re back to that night six years ago, all over again.” A playful smirk curls her lips. “Weird, right?”
I roll my eyes, trying to stifle the heat burning through me. “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing. Right.”
I shrug and take another sip of my beer, hoping it will settle my nerves, but all it does is heighten the buzzing in my stomach.
Clint. Of all people. The last person I want to be dealing with right now.
“He’s been staring in this direction ever since you walked in, Dakota.”
I gulp, setting my drink down a little too forcefully. “We’re not doing this tonight, Violet.”
But she’s already rolling with it. “Oh, yes, we are. You know, it’s been six years, Dakota. Six. And you still haven’t told him. Isn’t that kinda difficult now that you’re back here?”
I stiffen, my chest tightening as her words land, heavy and true. “It’s not that simple.”
“Isn’t it?” she presses, eyes narrowing with that typical Violet brand of wisdom. “You’ve been hiding behind this wall of yours for years. I get it. I do. But now you’re here, and he’s staring at you. He deserves to know.”
I swallow hard. “I’m not planning to tell him. I’m only here to sell the house, remember? I don’t know if it’s a good idea to bring all of that up when I’m not going to be around for anything to come of it.”
“Mmm, I see.” Vi nods slowly. “But don’t you want him to know? Clint isn’t a bad guy, you know.”
I stare down at my glass, wishing I could disappear into it. The memory of that night, of Clint’s hands on me, of the laughter and the heat that followed, makes my skin burn.
But the bigger burn is what came after. The mess of it all.
The mess that I made of it all.
But how was I supposed to know that my one-night stand would go that way?
“What if he rejects Charlie?” I finally say quietly.
Violet rests her hand on mine. “He isn’t your father.”
The words hit me hard, and I can’t breathe.
He isn’t your father.
The simplicity of it makes my heart flutter, and at the same time, it makes my chest feel even heavier. I want to believe her, I really do, but the fear of Clint rejecting Charlie… it’s a monster I’ve been keeping locked up for years.
“I need another drink before I even think about that.”
I look back over at Clint. He’s not looking directly at me anymore, but I can feel him. His presence fills the space between us, a quiet tension that makes my skin feel too tight.
She follows my gaze and sighs. “Dakota, Clint’s not some random guy. I know it was a one-night stand, but he’s here and so are you. It just feels right.”
“I can’t just walk up to him and say, ‘Hey, by the way, you’re the father of my son.’ Do you know how insane that sounds? How complicated it is?”
“Complicated?” Violet raises an eyebrow, leaning in, about to drop some truth on me. “Girl, if you think telling him is complicated, try spending another five years wondering what could have been, hiding in the shadows, and waiting for the other shoe to drop. If you don’t know, it’s way worse.”
I chew on my lip, her words echoing through my mind. I’m not sure what I’m more afraid of: telling Clint or living with this secret forever. What if telling him shatters everything? What if I ruin Charlie’s chance at a normal life?
“I know you’re scared,” Violet says gently. “But you owe it to yourself to face this, to stop pretending that everything’s fine when it’s not. And you owe it to Charlie, too. He deserves to know who his dad is.”
I nod, barely able to look her in the eye. “I know. You’re right. It might not have been my plan, but things change.”
The slightly bitter taste of the beer washes over me as I finish it off, then set the glass down with a quiet clink. Violet’s eyes are full of that patient, knowing look, but I can tell she’s not going to let me back out of this now.
She’s ready to drag me into the deep end if she has to.
“Alright,” I say, trying to sound casual, but there’s a nervousness in my gut I can’t ignore. “One more drink, then I’ll talk to him. Maybe.”
Violet’s grin widens. “That’s the spirit. Don’t overthink it, just go for it. I’ll be here to pick up the pieces afterward.”
I snort, feeling a bit more lighthearted with the alcohol loosening my nerves. “You’re terrible.”
“Terribly helpful,” she retorts with a wink.
I take a breath, feeling the courage start to bubble up, not sure if it’s the beer or just the idea of finally doing something about this. Either way, it’s happening.
Once I’ve had two more drinks, the buzz is enough to make me feel like I could take on a bull if I needed to. I glance over at Clint again.
This time, he’s sitting at the bar, a few feet away from the crowd, nursing a whiskey. He doesn’t look over at me this time.
Perfect. Maybe I can just… walk up to him and do this. Just like Violet said. Tell him.
I push myself up from the booth, swaying a little more than I’d like to admit, and make my way through the throng of people. The music is loud, the chatter a constant hum, and I lose my nerve.
I stop in my tracks, staring at the back of Clint’s head, heart thumping harder now. This was a mistake, right? I should go back to the booth.
Yeah, that’s better.
But then I catch myself. No. I can’t keep hiding forever.
I take another step, and my foot hits the edge of the bar stool as I approach. Clint turns just in time to see me. There’s a flicker of recognition in his gaze, but it fades quickly, replaced by a hesitation that makes my stomach twist.
“Dakota,” he says coolly. He doesn’t quite know how to navigate this either.
He doesn’t get up, doesn’t move from his spot on the stool. Just watches me, guarded, waiting for me to lead the conversation.
I blink a few times, my nerves flaring. This was supposed to be easier.
“Hey, Clint,” I say, clearing my throat. “You, uh, having a good time tonight?”
He shifts slightly, his hand running over his whiskey glass.
“Yeah. You know… parade, town… just another Colter Creek kind of night.” He offers me a tight, unsure smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “And you? Enjoying being back?”
The question feels loaded. I swallow hard. “It’s… it’s been good. Nice to see everyone.”
We stand there in silence for a beat too long, the awkwardness thick enough to cut with a knife. My eyes flicker to the glass in front of him, and then to the floor. Why is this so hard?
Clint shifts again, his boots scraping the floor as he moves uncomfortably on his stool.
He looks like he wants to say something more, but instead he picks up his drink, takes a slow sip, and mutters, “Guess we’ve both got a lot on our minds.”
That’s my cue, right? Right?
I look up at him, my throat dry.
“Yeah, you could say that.” I take a step closer, trying to steady myself, trying to remember why I came here in the first place. “Look, Clint, there’s something I—”
He interrupts me, quick, a little too quick, like he’s trying to get it all out before he loses his nerve. “Uh, are you, uh, staying for long? I mean… you’re just here for the house, right? You know, the sale? Are you having any luck with that?”
I laugh awkwardly, trying to break the tension. “Yeah, the house. Right. I have a lot to do on the house, but I’m sure it’ll be fine in the end.”
I start to say something else, but it catches in my throat. I glance at him, and he’s staring at me, looking more lost than anything. I shake my head, trying to push the nervousness down.
“Look, Clint, I… I need to tell you something.”
Clint’s eyebrows furrow. “Uh, okay. What’s going on?”
It feels like the universe has pressed pause. I stare at him, my mouth opening and closing as I try to find the words.
This isn’t exactly how I thought this was going to go. He’s not angry. He’s not even mad. He’s just… clueless.
I take another deep breath. “Clint, I—”
Before I can get any further, the door swings open and a group of rowdy cowboys bursts in, loud laughter filling the space. I glance over at the noise, but that’s enough to break the fragile moment.
Clint’s gaze flicks away, his body language shifting into something that feels defensive, even if he’s not trying to be. And I get it. I get why this is hard. It’s hard for me, too.
But I can’t just walk away now.
“Look, I don’t know how to—” I start, but Clint interrupts again, slightly louder now, trying to be heard over the chatter.
“It’s weird to see you again after all this time.” He lets out a breath, running his hand through his hair. “I didn’t think I would.”
I feel my chest tighten. “I didn’t expect this either. But we need to talk. About… what happened. Six years ago.”
Clint freezes, his eyes widening slightly, and I see the tension in his shoulders. Shoulders that somebody claps his hands around quickly.
“Buddy, come on. We’re taking this party back to my place.”
“Red, I…”
But I don’t even get a word in. Red practically drags Clint from his chair and from the chat I so desperately wanted to have.
I’m left standing there, staring after Clint as Red drags him away, an arm firmly around his shoulders like they’re old pals on their way to a night of mischief.
Clint glances back at me, just for a second, his eyes full of something I can’t quite place. Regret, maybe? Or confusion?
I don’t know. All I know is that I’m standing here, my heart pounding, and my words hanging between us as unfinished business.
My body feels frozen to the spot, like I just watched a door slam shut in my face, and I didn’t even get the chance to knock.
Violet cuts through the noise as she sidles up next to me, leaning in with a grin that’s probably more amused than comforting.
“Well, it doesn’t look like that went well.”
I’m too numb to laugh, too frustrated to smile. “I didn’t get to say anything at all. I was so close, Vi. So close.”
“Well, I guess maybe this wasn’t the best place for that sort of chat, was it?” she allows, and I shoot her a look. “I know, I know, I’m the one who suggested it. Because I was so wrong, I’ll buy you a drink. Come on.”