17. Logan
Chapter 17
Logan
W hen I woke, it was dark outside. And from the moment I opened my eyes, my head was pounding like it had been hit with a sledgehammer. I groaned, reaching up and grinding my palms against my eyes in a vain attempt to make it go away. What had happened to me?
It didn’t take long for the memories to start to return. The bank, the bar, the whiskey bottle, and then Dakota screaming at me for being fucking stupid. And the worst part was, he was right.
Guilt twisted at my stomach, making me feel more nauseous than I already was. I knew he’d grown up in a house with an alcoholic, one that apparently had a penchant for being abusive. And yet I’d gone out and gotten drunk as a goddamn skunk then drove myself home. He was right, I was fucking stupid. And for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why I’d done that to him. What an asshole thing to do.
Well, the truth was I knew the reason, but now that I was sitting in the dark with the worst headache of my life and Dakota pissed at me, it no longer seemed worth it. Even though we’d only been seeing one another officially for a couple days, I’d developed feelings for him quite a while ago. And now I’d hurt him. He deserved better.
I pushed myself up, wincing as the room spun around me. My mouth felt like sandpaper, and my stomach churned with every movement. But I had to find Dakota, had to make this right somehow.
Stumbling out of bed, I grabbed onto the nightstand for support. The house was quiet, really quiet. Had he left? The thought sent a jolt of panic through me.
“Dakota?” I called out, my voice hoarse and weak. No answer.
I made my way down the hallway, using the wall for support. The living room was empty, but I noticed his hat still hanging by the door. He hadn’t gone far, then.
That’s when I heard it - the soft rhythmic sound of chopping wood coming from outside. Of course. Dakota always took to physical labor when he was upset or needed to think. But judging by a quick glance at the clock, it was one in the morning.
I stepped out onto the porch, squinting against the glaring porch light the illuminated the front yard.
There he was, his broad back to me, muscles rippling under his sweat-soaked shirt as he brought the axe down again and again. The steady thunk of metal meeting wood echoed through the still night air. I could see the tension in his shoulders, the rigid set of his jaw as he worked.
“Dakota,” I called out softly, my voice cracking.
He froze mid-swing, his back stiffening. Slowly, he lowered the axe and turned to face me. His eyes were dark, unreadable in the harsh porch light.
“You should be in bed,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “Sleeping off your stupid decisions.”
I winced but took a tentative step forward anyway. My head throbbed as I held onto the porch rail for support. “I... I needed to talk to you. To apologize.”
Dakota’s jaw clenched, and he turned back to the woodpile, grabbing another log. He positioned it on the chopping block, his movements sharp and agitated.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said, his voice tight. “You made your choice.”
I took another unsteady step forward, fighting against the dizziness. “Dakota, please. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you. But I want to explain.”
He brought the axe down with a resounding crack, splitting the log cleanly in two. The pieces fell to either side as he straightened, his chest heaving with exertion and emotion.
“You don’t get it, do you?” he said, finally turning to face me again. His eyes blazed in the dim light. “It’s not just about you getting drunk. It’s about you not thinking about the consequences. About you making me relive every bad memory I’ve ever had all at once even though I told you about it. And told you how I felt about alcohol.”
“Dakota, I know. And I’m sorry. But I have a good reason if you’ll just?—”
“A good reason?!” he cried, throwing the axe to the ground. “What possible reason could you have for putting your life in danger like that? For risking everything when I was just finally starting to feel alright about opening up to you?” He stared at me for a long moment, his brows furrowed. “Did your father die or something?”
“No,” I said quickly. “God no.”
“Then why the fuck are you being so stupid, Logan?!”
I just stood there, my head swimming as I tried to make sense of the mess I was in.
“Give me a good fucking reason!” Dakota yelled, startling me down to my core.
And the moment his voice reverberated through me, I came unraveled. Everything I’d been trying to hold inside, all the worries and fears about my father and the ranch, came crashing back in an instant. Tears formed in my eyes as I slumped against the porch rail.
“The ranch…” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “We’re gonna lose it.”
Dakota’s anger seemed to deflate instantly, replaced by a mix of confusion and concern. He took a step towards me, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean, lose it? Logan, what’s going on?”
I slid down to sit on the porch steps, my head in my hands. The world was still spinning, but now it wasn’t just from the alcohol. “The bank,” I mumbled. “They’re calling in the loan. We don’t have the money to pay it off. In fact, we’re months behind on the payments now and that’s why they’re putting us in foreclosure. Dad’s been trying to keep it quiet, but...” I trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
I heard Dakota’s heavy footsteps approach, then felt him sit down beside me. He was close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body, but he didn’t touch me.
“How long have you known?” he asked quietly.
“Since this afternoon,” I said. “Just before I went to the bar.”
Dakota let out a long, slow breath. “Shit, Logan. Why didn’t you just tell me?”
I shook my head, still not looking up. “I didn’t know how. It’s... it’s everything, Dakota. This ranch, it’s been in my family for generations. Not only that, but it’s your job, your home, and all of my father’s dreams. I couldn’t bear the thought of him finally getting out of the hospital only to find out all he’s ever worked for is…” I choked on the words, unable to finish.
I felt Dakota’s strong hand on my back, a gentle warmth that seemed to anchor me. “Hey,” he said softly. “Look at me.”
Reluctantly, I raised my head. Dakota’s brown eyes were filled with concern, the anger from earlier completely gone.
“We’ll figure this out,” he said firmly. “You hear me? We’ll find a way.”
“How?” I asked, my voice cracking. “We’re talking hundreds of thousands of dollars, Dakota. There’s no way we can raise that kind of cash. And no offense, but you’re just a ranch hand. I know you don’t have the money and I sure as hell don’t either.”
Dakota’s hand tightened on my shoulder, his jaw clenching as he stared out into the darkness. For a long moment, he was silent, and I could almost see the gears turning in his head as he processed everything I’d said.
“You’re right,” he said finally. “I don’t have that kind of money. And I don’t know a damn person in this world that does.”
I nodded glumly, the weight of our situation settling heavily on my shoulders. But Dakota wasn’t finished.
“But,” he continued, his voice taking on a determined edge, “I do know cattle. And I know how to work. We’ve got a good herd here, Logan. Maybe... maybe we could organize an early drive. Get the cattle to market sooner than planned. It won’t solve everything, but it might buy us some time.”
I wanted to be hopeful, to tell him it was a good idea. “I’ve already tried that,” I said, shaking my head. “The bank said two weeks or nothing. And we don’t have enough cattle to even come close to meeting the loan amount.”
“Don’t you know anyone back in New York?” he asked quietly. “Anyone that would want to help?”
“The only person I know with that much money is my old boss, and he made it clear he never wanted to see me or Lucas again.” But the moment I said Lucas’s name, I paused. “Maybe… Maybe Lucas has some contacts. He and Beau have been looking for investors to transform the Turner Ranch into a sort of tourist attraction. Maybe they’d be interested in a second location.”
“It’s worth a shot,” Dakota replied with a shrug. “What have you got to lose by trying? I’m not thrilled by the idea of a tourist ranch, but if that’s what keeps this place alive, then so be it.” He stepped close, taking my hand in his. The warmth seeped into me, filling me with hope once more. “This is my home as much as it is yours. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
I felt a lump form in my throat at Dakota’s words. Despite everything - my stupid decision to drink, the fight we’d had - he was still here, still willing to help. I squeezed his hand, overwhelmed with gratitude.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “I don’t deserve you.”
Dakota’s eyes softened. “Don’t say that. We all make mistakes, Logan. What matters is how we handle them afterward.”
He pulled me into a tight embrace, and I buried my face in his shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent of leather and pine. For a moment, we just sat there in silence, the weight of our situation hanging heavy in the air.
Finally, Dakota pulled back, his hands still on my shoulders. “Alright, here’s what we’re going to do. First, you’re going to drink some water and get some sleep. That hangover isn’t going to fix itself. In the morning, we’ll call Lucas and see if he can help us out with some contacts. If that doesn’t pan out, we’ll figure something else out. Together.”
I nodded, feeling a glimmer of hope for the first time since I’d heard the news about the ranch. “Okay,” I said softly. “Together.”
Dakota stood up, offering me his hand. I took it, wobbling a bit as I got to my feet. He steadied me, his arm wrapping around my waist.
“Come on, cowboy,” he said, a hint of his usual warmth returning to his voice. “Let’s get you to bed.”
As we made our way back inside, I couldn’t help but marvel at how quickly things had changed. Just an hour ago, I’d been sure I’d ruined everything with Dakota. Now, here he was, supporting me both literally and figuratively.
Dakota helped me back to the bedroom, my mind racing with possibilities the entire way making it hurt even worse. Maybe Lucas really could help us out of this mess. But even if he couldn’t, knowing Dakota was by my side made the impossible seem a little more achievable.
We reached the bedroom, and Dakota gently lowered me onto the bed. He disappeared for a moment, returning with a large glass of water and some aspirin.
“Here,” he said, handing me the pills and water. “Take these. It’ll help with the headache.”
I swallowed the pills gratefully, downing half the glass of water in one go. Dakota sat on the edge of the bed, watching me with concern in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, setting the glass on the nightstand. “For everything. I should have talked to you instead of... well, you know.”
Dakota sighed, running a hand through his long dark hair. “I understand why you did it,” he said softly. “But promise me, Logan. Promise me you’ll never do that again. I can’t... I can’t lose you like that.”
The raw emotion in his voice made my chest tighten. I reached out and took his hand, intertwining our fingers. “I promise,” I said, meeting his gaze. “Never again.”
He nodded, seemingly satisfied with my response. Then, to my surprise, he kicked off his boots and lay down next to me on the bed, pulling me close against his chest. I could feel the steady beat of his heart, a comforting rhythm in the quiet of the night.
“Get some sleep,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
As I drifted off, wrapped up in his masculine, albeit sweaty, arms. Though, if I was being honest, I kinda liked it.