39. Cheyenne
Cheyenne
I stare at the man across from me, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Knox McNichols has become my biggest champion. There’s so much emotion swirling inside me, it’s hard to pin down exactly what I feel.
“I’m going to run to the restroom,” I tell him, setting my napkin on the table.
“Okay.” He gives me an easy smile. “I’ll order dessert for us.”
My throat constricts. He’s being so amazing. So steady and sure. It makes me want to cry. Whatever version of Knox I’d carried around in my head for all these years, he’s turning out to be so much more than that.
More thoughtful.
More protective.
Just more everything.
“That sounds good.”
The support he’s shown settles deep, even as the nerves from the audition churn low in my stomach.
I just need a minute. A second to breathe.
As I step into the hallway where the restroom is located, the noise of the restaurant fades behind me.
By the time I push open the door and slip inside, the silence feels like a relief.
Two women stand near the sinks, talking quietly.
They glance at me before going back to their conversation, as if they have no idea who I am. Or maybe they just don’t care.
It’s one of the things I love about Chicago.
The anonymity.
The freedom of not always being watched.
I slip into one of the stalls, lock the door, and lean back against the wall. My heart is still racing. The audition keeps looping through my mind—every note, every expression, every second I stood in front of the panel.
I close my eyes and force out a gradual breath. Maybe Knox is right. No matter what happens, I did it. I walked in and sang my heart out. And that’s worth something.
By the time I finish and push open the stall door, I’ve almost managed to calm myself down. I glance up and then freeze when I find Dakota leaning against the counter. For a second, my brain refuses to process his presence, and my stomach drops.
He looks terrible—unshaven with bloodshot eyes. His clothes are wrinkled, as if he’s been wearing them for days. He looks nothing like the polished, camera-ready version of the man I’m used to seeing.
Unstable.
That’s the only word that blares through my head.
He straightens as soon as he sees me, and unease slithers down my spine.
“Cheyenne.”
My mouth dries. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
He lets out a quiet laugh that ends on a high-pitched note. “I had to see you.”
Every instinct I have goes on high alert.
“There’s nothing left for us to talk about.” I force out the response calmly, even though my pulse continues to thrum. “What we had is over. You need to make peace with that and move on.”
His stare never deviates from mine as he shakes his head. “I can’t do that. I’ve already tried.”
My gaze slices to the door. There’s no way I can get around him.
Left with no other choice, I straighten my shoulders, not wanting him to sense how frightened I am. “I won’t change my mind.”
“If you’d just give me a chance,” he says, his voice rising as he drags a hand through his mussed hair, “we could work it out.”
“It’s too late for that.”
He pushes away from the counter, taking a quick step toward me. “You don’t mean that.”
Another wave of fear slams into me. “I do, Dakota. We’re over.”
He closes the distance between us. “Why don’t you love me anymore?”
My heart hammers against my ribs, turning painful. The truth is, I’m not sure I ever loved Dakota. Not in the way I thought I did. It’s only after having taken a step back that I understand how wrong he is for me.
But there’s no way I can say that when he’s already teetering on the edge. I don’t want to be what pushes him over.
I wish he could see that what he needs is help.
“What we had meant a lot to me,” I say carefully. “It really did.”
The hope that flickers in his eyes is enough to make my stomach turn.
“But it’s over,” I add, gentler this time. “I’ve moved on, and you need to find a way to do the same.”
His jaw tightens. “Knox McNichols isn’t the right man for you, Chey. He’ll never love you the way I do.”
There’s no point in arguing. Not with the look that fills his eyes. Not with the alcohol I can smell on him, even from here.
He swallows up the remaining distance between us until I feel the heat that radiates off his body. “You think he’s so much better than me?”
“Don’t come any closer.” Even though I’m shaking inside, I force myself to remain calm. “You need to back up and give me space.”
Instead, his hand shoots out, his fingers locking around my wrist. Shock ripples through me, and for half a second, I can’t breathe. I stare at his hand now shackled around me, my brain spinning, trying to figure a way out of this situation.
“Dakota—” My voice catches as I try yanking my arm free. “Let go of me.”
“You used to love me,” he says, his fingers tightening. “We used to be so good together.”
Pain pulses through my wrist as adrenaline spikes through my veins.
“Let go,” I say, louder this time, trying to break free from his grip.
“I will never let you go!”
He drags me closer. “Dakota, stop!”
The bathroom door bursts open.
“What the hell—”
Knox.
Relief hits so hard, my knees almost give out. Dakota turns with his hand still locked around my wrist. Knox’s gaze drops to the place where we’re connected, and rage crashes over his expression. Whatever I saw on the ice the other night is nothing compared to the look on his face now.
“Take your fucking hands off her,” Knox growls.
Dakota drags me closer as he turns toward him. “Stay out of this.”
Knox eats up the distance in two long strides before grabbing Dakota by the front of his shirt and ripping him away from me with so much force that I stumble backward.
“Don’t you ever touch her again,” Knox says, voice filled with fury.
Dakota shoves at him. “She belongs to me!”
“That’s where you’re wrong. She never belonged to you.”
Before Dakota can open his mouth again, Knox’s fist connects with his jaw. The crack is sharp, echoing off the tile as he crumples to the floor with a heavy thud.
A startled sound tears from me as my ex collapses between us. The room tilts as my pulse continues to roar in my ears.
The door opens and a woman walks in before stopping dead in her tracks. Her eyes widen as she takes in the scene. “Oh my.” With that, she disappears into the hallway again.
Knox’s gaze stays pinned to Dakota.
When he takes a step toward my ex, I grab his arm before he can do further damage. “Please don’t.”
His body remains taut beneath my hand, and for one terrifying second, I think he might lunge again.
Dakota groans as he spits blood onto the tile, trying to push himself up.
“Chey, please,” he chokes out. “Please don’t do this.”
Knox slips an arm around my shoulders, anchoring me to his side, while I stare at the man lying on the floor. He feels more like a stranger, and it makes me wonder if I ever knew him at all.
“You need help, Dakota.” My voice trembles even though I try to keep it steady. “And I truly hope you get it.”
Knox looks down at me then—really looks at me—like he’s checking every inch for damage.
“Are you okay?”
Even though I’m still trying to catch my breath, I nod. “I’m fine. Really.”
The bathroom door bursts open again, this time with an older man and two security guards.
“What’s going on in here?”
Voices overlap as someone says the police are on the way.
As soon as Dakota rises to his feet, one of the guards grabs his arm.
“You need to come with us.”
“This is bullshit,” Dakota snaps. “She’s my—”
“No, I’m not,” I say, my raised voice cutting through the noise.
Everyone looks at me. When my hands continue to shake, I curl them into fists and force myself to keep going.
“He’s been harassing me for weeks and then followed me to Chicago from LA. He was waiting for me when I came out of the stall and then he grabbed me.”
The guard’s expression hardens. “Sir, it sounds like there’s a lot the police will want to discuss with you.”
Dakota stares at me as if I just betrayed him. “Chey—”
“It’s over,” I say, steadier this time. “And you need to leave me alone.”
It doesn’t take long for the police to arrive and then statements are taken. Knox stays beside me through all of it, his hand at the small of my back. It’s a steady reminder that I’m not going through this alone.
When the officer asks if I want to press charges, my stomach twists. For a second, I almost say no.
Then my mind flashes through everything that’s happened, and I lift my chin. “I’d like a restraining order.”
The words sit heavy on my tongue. Final. Like a door slamming shut and locking behind me.
The officer nods. “We’ll get that started tonight. You’ll need to file for an emergency order, and a judge will have to review it.”
When I finally leave, Dakota stares at me like he doesn’t know who I am anymore.
Good. Truth be told, I don’t recognize myself either. For the first time, that realization isn’t frightening. It’s freeing in the best way possible.
As if I’m finally becoming the woman I was always meant to be.