24. Dakota
The morning sun filtered through the windows of my momma’s kitchen as I stood at the sink, rinsing out a coffee cup I’d barely touched, my thoughts miles away. I could see Austin and Colt out front, waiting outside Tucker’s truck before the three of them made the trip back to Colorado. Tucker was out there, too, his voice low as he talked on the phone. He stood on the porch, having not yet knocked on the door to say goodbye.
A knot formed in my chest, tightening with each passing second.
They were leaving.
Even though he’d told me all I had to do was ask, after everything that went down at the Harvest Festival last night… Tucker hadn’t given me a chance.
But why was I so surprised? Had I really thought he was serious that night in his truck?
I’d known this day would come. From the moment Tucker rolled into town with that gruff, guarded demeanor, I knew he wasn’t staying. He’d never planned to. It was just supposed to be a job. A case. Something temporary, like the cool autumn air that would eventually give way to winter.
But now that the moment had arrived, now that he was standing on the porch, ready to say goodbye and then head back to his real life... I wasn’t ready.
He must have finished his phone call because a knock sounded at the door. I wiped my hands on a dishtowel, taking a steadying breath before I forced myself to open the door.
The late-October air was crisp, a light breeze tugging at the ends of my hair as I stepped onto the porch. Tucker stood with his back to me at the edge of the porch, as if he’d turned away right after knocking, his posture stiff and tense.
Colt gave me a quick nod, then climbed into the passenger seat as Austin waved before getting into the back. I waved back, but my eyes were locked on Tucker, on the rigid line of his shoulders as he stood there, his face hidden from view.
This wasn’t how I’d imagined saying goodbye. I’d pictured something different—something softer, lighter, maybe. Something like a “see you later,” instead of the way this all felt so… final.
He turned around, and when his eyes met mine, my heart twisted. This was not the Tucker I’d gotten to know over the past few weeks. It was like the walls had gone up higher than they ever had been, brick by brick, blocking me out.
He stepped forward, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His gaze flicked away for a moment, like he couldn’t quite meet my eyes.
“Dakota...” His voice was low, rough, and it hit me like a physical blow to hear him say my name in that tone instead of calling me Wildcard with a wry grin. “I, uh... I don’t do this kind of thing. You know that, right?”
I blinked, confused by the abruptness of his words. “What kind of thing?”
“This.” He gestured vaguely between us, his brow furrowing. “Relationships. Emotions. All of it. I don’t... I’m not good at it. I can’t...”
His words trailed off, and for a moment, all I could do was stand there, staring at him as the meaning behind them slowly sank in.
I thought we were past this. I thought that after everything—the haunted house, the stakeout, the kiss in the ER—that maybe, just maybe, we’d gotten somewhere. But now, it felt like he was pulling back, retreating into the safety of that emotional distance he seemed to crave.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he added gruffly, his gaze flicking back to mine, filled with something I couldn’t quite place. Guilt, maybe? Regret? “But this... I can’t stay. And dragging this out—dragging you into it—wasn’t fair. You deserve better.”
The knot in my chest tightened, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep my voice steady and casual. “It’s fine. I knew you were leavin’, Tucker. I’ve always known that.”
And no, I didn’t mention the fact that I’d started to believe he was staying after he’d offered me the chance to ask him to.
I’d tried—hard.
Right after that insane revelation at the Harvest Festival that his client was Syd Wharton in disguise, I’d started to ask him to stay.
But what did he do? He’d silenced me with a brief, painfully soft kiss, and he’d uttered the words that’d nearly broken me: Please don’t ask me to stay.
Tucker looked away again, his jaw clenching. “Yeah, well... knowing it was coming doesn’t make it any easier, does it?”
The silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating. My heart felt like it was being slowly squeezed in a vice, the ache spreading through my whole body. I wanted to say something —anything—to break through the distance that was growing between us. But what could I say?
Tucker cleared his throat, stepping closer until he was right in front of me, towering over me with that same quiet intensity that had drawn me in from the start. His hand came up to cup the side of my face, his thumb brushing lightly against my cheek in a gesture so gentle it made my breath catch.
“I care about you,” he said, his voice so rough it nearly broke. “More than I thought I would. More than I should. But this... it would never work. You know that, right?”
I forced myself to meet his gaze, even though the tears were already starting to sting the backs of my eyes. “Yeah. I know.”
It came out quieter than I meant it to, my voice betraying the hurt that I was trying so hard to hide. I didn’t want him to see how much this goodbye was tearing me apart.
He leaned down, pressing his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin. “I hate that it has to be like this, Wildcard.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, regretting that I’d wished for him to say it. Then again, it really did hit the same when he said it like this. My hands curled into the front of his jacket, clinging to him even though I knew I needed to let go. “Me too.”
For a moment, neither of us moved. We just stood there, our foreheads pressed together, the silence between us heavy with everything we weren’t saying. I could feel the tension radiating off him, the way his body was coiled tight like he was fighting against something he couldn’t control.
Then, without another word, he tilted my chin up and kissed me—desperately, like he was trying to pour everything he couldn’t say into that one kiss. I kissed him back just as fiercely, my heart breaking with every second that passed, knowing this was the last time.
When he finally pulled away, his eyes were darker than I’d ever seen them. He pressed a final kiss to my forehead, lingering there for just a second on a long inhale before he stepped back, his hand dropping from my face.
He nodded once as he backed away.
My throat too tight to speak, I simply nodded back, watching as he turned and walked away.
That evening, I pulled into Hope’s driveway, the faint glow of lights spilling through the windows. Laughter drifted out from inside the house, mingling with the cool evening breeze as I grabbed the box of cookies I’d brought and made my way up to the front porch.
Girls' night.
It was supposed to cheer me up, to take my mind off everything. But after the morning I’d had, with Tucker leaving and that goodbye still fresh in my mind, I wasn’t sure anything could distract me from the dull ache in my chest.
I knocked once before stepping inside, the familiar warmth of Hope’s house wrapping around me. This had become a second home to me for the last few weeks, and since I’d spent all of that time consumed with thoughts of the case and of Tucker, it felt strange coming back inside without a reason to think about either of those things anymore.
The smell of cinnamon and sugar greeted me—likely from the pie someone had brought—and the girls were already gathered in the living room, chatting away like they didn’t have a care in the world.
Laney was stretched out on the couch, her blonde hair spilling over the armrest, while Aubree sat cross-legged on the floor, a glass of wine in her hand. Bailey and Paisley were huddled together on the loveseat, giggling about something on Bailey’s phone, and Rory was curled up in an armchair by the fireplace, absently flipping through a magazine.
“Kota!” Hope called out from the kitchen, poking her head around the corner with a bright smile. “We’ve been waitin’ for you! You brought your momma’s cookies, right?”
I forced a smile, holding up the dish. “Of course. Wouldn’t show up without your faves.”
“You’re the best,” she said, giving me a wink. “Come on in. Wine’s on the counter. Or there’s sweet tea if you’re in the mood.”
“Wine,” I muttered under my breath, making my way to the kitchen. “Definitely wine.”
As I poured myself a glass, I could hear the conversation drifting from the living room.
“So, what’s the guys' night about?” Aubree asked, her tone curious. “Rory, didn’t you say it was at Travis’s gym?”
Rory nodded, still scrolling through her phone. “Yeah, but I thought it was strange that they brought Phoebe. They got the Mommas to watch the babies, but she’s with them.”
“Why?” Paisley asked, lifting a brow as I took a seat on the floor by Aubree.
“No idea,” Rory said with a shrug. “Travis just said they wanted her to come along.”
Hope walked into the room with a tray of snacks, setting it down on the coffee table. “Sounds like they’re up to somethin’,” she mused, sitting down next to Rory.
A few more comments floated around, but I wasn’t really listening anymore. I made my way to the couch and sank into the cushions, holding my glass of wine close, letting the warmth of the drink settle in my chest. The others continued chatting about the guys and their strange plans for the night, but eventually, the conversation shifted.
“How are you doin’, Kota Bear?” Laney asked gently, her eyes soft as she looked over at me.
I paused, taking a slow sip of my wine before answering. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I guess... I guess I’m still processing everything.”
“Of course you are,” Aubree said, her face full of sympathy. “Tucker leavin’ like that... I can’t imagine how you’re feelin’ right now.”
The girls were quiet for a moment, all of them waiting for me to continue. Normally, I’d crack a joke or brush it off, but tonight? Tonight, I just didn’t have it in me.
I set my glass down, running a hand through my hair as I let out a slow breath. “It hurts,” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I knew he was gonna leave, but like he said before he did… knowin’ doesn’t make it any easier. And the way he said goodbye... I don’t know. It was rough, y’all.”
Laney reached over and squeezed my hand, her touch warm and reassuring. “It sounds like he was strugglin’ too, though.”
“Yeah, but what good does that do me?” I muttered, leaning back against the cushions. “He’s gone. He went back to his life in Colorado, and I’m stuck here, tryin’ to pretend like I wasn’t fallin’ for him the whole time.”
“You don’t have to pretend,” Rory said softly from her chair, her green eyes filled with understanding. “We know you, Dakota. We know this wasn’t just some fling.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Funny because that’s exactly what we told ourselves it was.”
Aubree shook her head. “That was just your defense mechanisms talkin’. You don’t just kiss a guy in the middle of the ER like that if it’s only a fling.”
“I didn’t,” I replied, raising an eyebrow. “He did. And then he left.”
The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of my words settling over all of us. I could feel their sympathy, their understanding, but it didn’t do much to ease the ache in my chest.
It felt like I’d been walking a tightrope this whole time—balancing between hope and reality, between wanting something more with Tucker and knowing it could never happen. And now, I’d fallen. Hard.
Bailey spoke up, her voice soft. “Do you think you could try long-distance?”
I shrugged, not trusting myself to answer. He sure didn’t think we could, or he wouldn’t have said it would never work between us. Because the truth was, Tucker had always been so closed off, so hard to read, and now that he was gone, I had a feeling he was right.
I finished the rest of my wine in one long sip, the bitterness lingering on my tongue. “I just... I don’t know how to let him go. But I guess I’ll have to figure it out.”
Hope leaned forward, her brow furrowed slightly. “You don’t have to do it alone, though. We’re here for you. Always.”
I smiled at her, grateful for the support, but the ache in my chest remained. And as the evening wore on, and the conversation drifted back to lighter topics in the name of distraction, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was brewing. Something bigger than this heartache, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
A storm was coming. I could feel it.