Chapter 31 Dakota
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Dakota
Uh-oh.
This is it.
Maybe I should just… run. Turn around, go back to the house, and pretend I never came here. Pretend that this moment, this conversation, is just a bad idea I can erase from my mind.
But no. I can’t.
I won’t.
Sawyer’s voice floats in the back of my head. “You’re gonna be fine. Just breathe. I’m right here if you need me.”
Breathe. Right. Like I can manage that right now.
I’m about to do the one thing I’ve been dreading for what feels like forever: tell Clint the truth about Charlie.
When he looks over at me, his expression softens just a fraction. But there’s still that guarded look in his eyes.
He’s not sure what to make of me. Or what I’m doing here.
I open my mouth, trying to say something, but I can’t. The words feel heavy, stuck in my throat. Clint doesn’t speak right away, just waits.
The silence stretches between us like a long, unspoken question. I can feel his gaze on me, sharp and searching.
“You alright?” he asks, measuring me up, trying to figure out what’s going on in my head.
I nod quickly, but it’s more of a reflex than anything else. “Yeah, just… I need to talk to you.”
I can feel the tension coil in my chest as we start walking. Clint’s long strides swallow up the distance between us, and I’m left scrambling to keep up. I’m trying to breathe, trying to hold myself together, but I’m overwhelmed by what I have to say.
Clint glances at me every few steps, his brow furrowed, trying to read me. And honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been more aware of him than I am right now. It’s like I can feel him inside my head, dissecting every move I make.
“Is everything okay?” he asks tightly.
The question makes me pause. “Yeah, it’s just… a lot, you know?”
He stops walking, and I can feel his attention shift, really focus on me. “What do you mean? Last night, or something else?”
I flinch. Last night. Right. I know what he’s thinking. He’s probably wondering if this is about the whole three of us thing.
I shake my head quickly, my breath catching in my throat. “It’s not about that.”
He eyes me, clearly not convinced, but instead of pushing, he nods and starts walking again, this time at a slower pace.
I need to tell him. I need to get the words out. But they keep getting stuck, stuck in my throat, lodged in my chest, making it hard to breathe.
“Clint,” I say, testing the waters, “It’s about… well, the last time we were together. The first time, I should say. Years ago.”
I hear him shift beside me. “Right, okay?”
I stop walking. My stomach twists, and I feel the strain of the world press down on me. There’s no going back from this. I take a breath, my heart hammering in my chest.
“I need to talk to you because…” I stop myself, the words feeling heavier the longer I wait.
“Because of what?” Clint asks, cautious now, like he knows whatever comes next isn’t going to be easy.
I swallow hard. “Because I didn’t know it at the time, but I was pregnant when I left town.”
He stares a little glassy-eyed at me. I don’t think he’s getting what I’m saying, which means I’m really going to have to say it clearly. Word for word.
“I was pregnant with Charlie. He’s yours. He’s your son.”
The words fall out in a rush, a dam breaking open. I brace myself, expecting the ground to shift beneath my feet. But Clint’s just staring at me, his eyes wide. He’s trying to process what I just said.
His mouth opens like he’s about to speak, but nothing comes out.
He blinks a few times. “Charlie’s my son?”
I nod, my throat dry, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “Yes. He’s yours. I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t think you’d want to be a part of his life after nothing more than a one-night stand. I didn’t know what to say.”
Clint stands there, his eyes fixed on the ground, his shoulders stiff. His mouth opens, about to say something, but nothing comes out.
The silence between us feels so heavy, so thick, I can barely breathe. I keep waiting for him to say something, anything, but he doesn’t.
He just stands there, looking like he’s been blindsided by everything I’ve just told him.
I can feel my chest tightening, all the words I’ve just dropped on him pressing in. And my throat… it’s getting tight, too. I’m trying to hold back everything I’m feeling, but I can’t.
I feel the sting of tears in my eyes, and I know if I don’t leave now, I’m going to break down right here in front of him. I can’t do that.
I look up at Clint, hoping to find some sign that he’s okay, that this isn’t the end of everything. But there’s nothing in his face.
Nothing that tells me what he’s feeling. Not a word, not a gesture, nothing to let me know what’s going on inside his head.
“Clint…” My voice breaks. It’s too much. It’s too much for both of us.
I have to get out of here before I lose control.
I try to calm myself down, to push back the tears.
“I… I need to go. I shouldn’t have come here,” I stammer. “I just… I just wanted you to know, okay?”
I turn quickly, trying to escape before he sees how close I am to falling apart. My heart’s pounding, and every step I take feels like it’s dragging me farther away from the calm I desperately need.
Then, I hear his voice. It’s low, almost gruff, like he’s trying to make it through the fog of whatever this is between us.
“Dakota…” he says, but the words hang there, unfinished.
I can’t look at him. Not right now. If I do, I’m going to lose it.
I push forward, away from him and from whatever this conversation was supposed to be. I know I should stop, but I can’t.
I need space. I need time. I can’t hear the silence between us anymore. It’s louder than anything he could say.
My vision starts to blur, and I wipe at my eyes, hoping he doesn’t see the tears slipping down my face. I can’t break down in front of him. Not like this. Not after everything.
But the truth is, I’m breaking inside. This isn’t supposed to be how it went. I wasn’t supposed to leave him standing there, speechless, while I walked away.
But I don’t know how to make it right. Not now. Not when it feels like we’re miles apart, no matter how close we’re standing.
I hear the soft sound of his boots behind me, but I don’t turn around. I keep moving, my pace quickening as I approach my car. And just before I slide into the driver’s seat, I feel the sting of his gaze on my back.
It’s the last thing I feel before I shut the door, leaving him behind in the dust and the silence.
I drive off, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve just made everything worse.
As I go, the tears come harder, faster, stinging my cheeks as I grip the steering wheel tight. The road blurs in front of me, the edges of everything I thought I knew slipping out of focus.
I should’ve expected this reaction from him, should’ve known he’d shut down. I shouldn’t have let myself believe it could go any other way.
I know I did the right thing. Clint had to know the truth, but the rejection hurts like hell.
Charlie doesn’t deserve that pain.
I pull into Alice’s driveway, the familiar sight of her little house offering me no comfort now. It’s just another reminder that things are changing, and I have no idea how to hold on to what’s left.
I blink away the last of the tears and take a shaky breath, wiping my face with the back of my hand.
I can’t break down in front of Charlie either. Not when I’ve promised myself I’d make this work for him. He doesn’t need to see me like this.
I park the car and sit there, the engine off, but everything heavy. I try to take a deep breath, but there’s no room in my lungs. I’m suffocating under everything I’ve kept hidden for so long.
Shaking my head, I push the door open and step out, forcing my feet to move. The gravel crunches beneath my boots, the sound oddly comforting in its normalcy, a reminder that the world keeps turning even when my world is falling apart.
I walk up the front porch, my hand on the railing, trying to calm myself down. When I knock, the door swings open almost immediately, and there’s Alice, smiling warmly, her arms open for a hug.
“You okay?” she asks, already reading me.
I force a smile, though it feels fake on my face. “Yeah, just… one of those days, you know?”
She gives me a knowing look, but she doesn’t push. “Charlie’s in the living room. He’s been talking about you all morning.”
I nod, my heart giving a little twist at the thought of him. My little boy. He has no idea what’s going on, and he just wants his mom to be okay.
I step inside, hearing Charlie’s laughter from the other room. He’s playing with something, probably one of Alice’s old toys, full of the innocent joy I crave right now.
I walk toward the living room, my eyes starting to sting again. But when I see his little face light up, my breath catches. There he is. My Charlie.
“Mom!” he cries, his face lighting up like the sun.
He runs to me, and in that moment, everything else fades away. We’ve always been just the two of us, and if that’s the way it needs to stay, then so be it. We can cope, we can survive. I have faith in us.
No matter what, me and Charlie will be okay.