Chapter 33 Dakota
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Dakota
The house is quiet. Peaceful.
Charlie’s finally asleep, thank goodness, and I’m sitting at the kitchen table with my sketchbook open, pretending that drawing will calm me down.
Spoiler alert: It’s not working.
The lines on the page are shaky, all over the place, and every time I try to focus, my brain drifts straight back to the same thing.
Clint knows.
Those two words keep looping in my head like a bad song I can’t turn off. Clint knows about Charlie. Clint knows the truth.
And I have absolutely no idea what that means now.
I told myself I’d feel better once I got it off my chest, that honesty would fix everything. But the way he looked at me when I said the words, “He’s your son”? Yeah. That image is branded on my brain forever.
Shock, confusion, maybe even a little hurt. And then… nothing. Just silence.
The kind of silence that hits harder than any shouting ever could.
So here I am, sketching like a crazy person, trying not to cry again. Real mature, Dakota. Killing it tonight.
I’m just about to give up and call it when I hear it—tires on gravel.
At first, I think I’m imagining it, but then headlights sweep across the front window, and my stomach drops straight to my knees.
Please don’t be Clint. Please don’t be Clint.
A truck door slams.
Then another.
And another.
Oh, fantastic. It’s not just Clint. It’s a platoon.
There’s a knock, loud enough to make me jump, and I seriously consider hiding under the table. But no, I’m a grown woman. I can handle this.
I think.
I open the door, and yep. I was right.
Clint. Sawyer. And Reid.
All three of them on my porch like it’s some kind of intervention.
For me.
“Uh,” I say brilliantly, because my brain has clearly left the building. “Is this… a meeting I missed an invite for?”
Clint’s eyes meet mine, and wow, they’re stormy tonight, all tense jaw and quiet intensity. He’s still in the same jeans and work shirt from earlier, as if he came straight here after whatever meltdown I caused.
Sawyer’s standing a few steps behind him, calm but watchful, and Reid’s leaning against the railing with his usual cocky smirk, though it looks a little forced.
“Can I come in?” Clint asks.
I hesitate. “Charlie’s asleep.”
Clint nods once, slow. “Then I’ll keep my voice down.”
Behind him, Sawyer clears his throat, glancing between us. “Maybe we should give them a minute.”
Reid looks like he wants to argue, but after one hard look from Clint, he exhales and mutters, “Yeah. Sure.”
He gives me a half-smile that’s almost apologetic, and starts back toward the truck. Sawyer follows, giving Clint a brief pat on the shoulder before he goes.
When their taillights disappear down the drive, the silence left behind feels… huge.
Clint shifts on his feet, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes flicking toward the door like maybe he’s not sure he should even be here.
I step aside anyway. “Come in.”
He does, carefully, like the floor might bite him, and when I close the door, I realize my hands are shaking.
He stops by the kitchen table, glancing down at my sketchbook. “That squirrel is really good, Dakota.”
I nod, not sure how to respond. Instead, I sit down, mostly because my knees feel unreliable. He takes the chair across from me, and we just… sit there.
Then Clint leans forward, forearms braced on the table. “I’m not here to fight, Dakota. I just… I need to understand.”
I swallow hard. “I didn’t know you when I first found out that I was pregnant.
I didn’t know how you’d react, so I kept it to myself.
And when I came back… I don’t know, it was just difficult.
I mean, I’m selling this house. I don’t know how long I’ll be here…
I wasn’t expecting to get all caught up. ”
He nods slowly, eyes on the tabletop. “I don’t know how I would have reacted back then, but I do know I want to step up now.”
Something in the way he says it makes me believe him. There’s no bluff in his tone, no anger. Just this raw, honest kind of certainty that hits me square in the chest.
I look down at my hands, at the little smudge of pencil still staining my fingertips.
“I’m glad you do,” I say softly. “And I want that for Charlie. I just don’t want to confuse him. He’s finally starting to settle, to feel safe.”
Clint leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I get that. I don’t want to just show up and throw his world off-balance. But I want to be there. Even if it’s just little things at first, letting him get used to me.”
I nod, relief flickering through the tension. “That’s actually what I was thinking too.”
He tilts his head, a faint, wry smile curving his mouth. “Are we thinking alike?”
I let out a shaky laugh. “Don’t make it weird. It probably won’t happen again.”
That earns me a soft chuckle, low and rough and so him. It’s the first real laugh either of us has managed since this whole mess started.
He sobers after a moment, his eyes finding mine again. “I don’t want to miss another second of his life, Dakota. Not one. I know I can’t make up for the time I wasn’t there, but… I want to try.”
The way he says it, quiet, fierce, full of regret and love, it makes my throat ache. This is Clint Parrish, the man who doesn’t seem to be good at words. And here he is, tearing his walls down right in front of me.
“I know,” I whisper. “And I want that too. But we need to take it slow, for Charlie’s sake. He doesn’t know you’re his dad yet, and I don’t think dropping that on him all at once is fair.”
Clint nods. “I’ll come by, help out, spend time with him. But I’ll just be Clint. A friend.”
“Good,” I say, more to myself than him. “He likes you already, you know. He told me you were ‘the cowboy with the cool truck.’”
That earns me a grin, small but real. “He’s got good taste.”
I laugh again, quieter this time, and it’s a tiny release valve in the pressure that’s been building all night.
Then Clint’s expression softens in a way that catches me off guard. “You’ve done a hell of a job with him, Dakota. I mean it. He’s smart and kind and… happy. That’s because of you.”
I feel my throat tighten again.
“Don’t make me cry,” I warn, trying to smile through it. “I’ve already hit my emotional limit for the day.”
My heart’s pounding so loudly, I’m sure Clint can hear it. But he doesn’t move, just stands there, waiting, trying to figure out if he’s on the right page.
Before I can process it, Clint’s hand is reaching out to me, and my brain short-circuits. His fingers brush mine lightly, and something clicks between us.
This time, I don’t wait for him to make the first move. Instead, I slide my hand into his, and, bam, we’re in this weird but wonderful bubble of chemistry.
“Clint,” I start, but the words die on my lips as his thumb brushes over my knuckles.
His gaze drops to my mouth.
I’m on my feet without quite meaning to be, his chair scraping softly as he stands too.
“Dakota…” He says my name, testing it out, and then before I can breathe, he’s kissing me.
At first, it’s all sweet, a kiss you would expect from a first date. Soft, a little shy, almost like we’re both figuring out the rhythm of this new thing.
But it’s not a first-date kiss. It’s more like two people who’ve been dancing around each other for way too long and are finally done with all the pretense.
He deepens the kiss, tilting his head, one hand finding the small of my back, pulling me in closer. I’m not sure what I’m doing anymore, but my hands are suddenly tangled in his shirt, and I’m leaning into him like I don’t have a care in the world.
He groans into my mouth, a sound that goes straight through me and hits a part of me I didn’t even know needed it. Clint’s fingers are warm against my cheek as he moves me back just enough to look me in the eye, his forehead resting against mine, both of us breathing heavily now.
“Wow,” I murmur, because honestly, wow.
I wasn’t expecting that. Not after everything we’ve just talked about. But the chemistry? Still unreal.
“I’ve got to go.” He shifts slightly, backing away, but his eyes never leave mine. “But I’ll be back tomorrow. To take Charlie to the park with you. If that’s okay with you.”
I nod, but I can’t help the silly grin that spreads across my face. “Yeah, that’s totally okay. About ten?”
“Perfect. Ten on the dot. See you then.”
“Goodnight, Clint,” I say softly, watching him step out into the night.
And as I close the door behind him, I can’t help but smile.
Tomorrow, he’s coming back to take Charlie to the park. Tomorrow, we start actually parenting together.
Charlie won’t be informed right away, of course, but we’ll be moving in the right direction. And I never thought we’d get to that place.