Chapter 21
DAKOTA
Mara sits cross-legged on my armchair with a bowl of ice cream balanced on one knee.
“Did you tell him about your dad and Noah or any of that stuff?” She asks after I’ve explained my real-life Cove freakout.
“No,” I reply. “But he was understanding. He sort of sensed that something was going on without me needing to explain what. Then we went to the diner, and that jerk was there, the one I told you about.”
“That was the same night?”
I nod. “I didn’t tell you what happened after, either. Jack stood up for me. He went full caveman and called me his woman. And I loved it. I felt possessed. Owned. Protected.”
“And you… loved it,” Mara mutters in wonder.
“I know. Talk about mixed signals.”
“I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you a hundred times, that’s just being human. Where did you leave things?”
“Up in the air, I guess,” I say, shrugging.
“We’re still seriously hot for each other.
I’ve never experienced anything like this.
One touch and…” I shiver. “He had to sit on the other side of the limo just to stop himself from touching me. It was crazy. But the whole time, there’s this alarm going off in my head.
He wants to control you. He wants to own you.
All while enjoying when he called me his. ”
“You can be his in certain contexts,” Mara says. “And independent in others. You just need to navigate it together. Have you talked since?”
“A little. He texted me last night when I got in. Mostly about the game. But he’s so busy with work.”
“I saw they put an announcement on X.”
“Yeah—the new zone. He’s been working so hard on it. And when he took me to our real-life Cove…”
“You’re going in circles, Dakota,” Mara points out.
“It’s like—he wants to tell people. About us. But tell them what? Am I supposed to hop on stream one day and announce that I fucked him on somebody’s desk and had one failed date at a diner?”
“Don’t kid me. I know it means more to you than that.”
I avert my gaze because I can’t lie. She’s right. An hour in the game with him is better than any date I’ve been on with any other man.
“Maybe I should explain what happened,” I muse.
“It’d be a start. You said he shared something personal with you?”
“About his family,” I say, nodding. “I feel so bad. I thought he might be lying for a while. Then he mentioned it on the boat, and his tone, Mara, God. It was like his heart was being torn from his chest.”
“What’s his game plan if you go public?” she asks.
“Honestly? I don’t even think he has one. Not specifically. He just doesn’t want a PR scandal. Which is fair. Neither do I—what?”
Mara raises an innocent eyebrow. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to…”
“He doesn’t want a PR scandal, so he makes public hints at you, transforms public places into scenes from the game, and takes you to a public diner… Maybe he doesn’t even know it—you know what men are like—but he doesn’t want this to become public, Dakota, he needs it to.”
I shake my head. “You’ve been watching too many romance flicks.”
“Nah-uh.” She shakes her head. “If he were the cold, PR-obsessed CEO he’s pretending to be, he wouldn’t have even met you in person.”
“Just because he cares enough to wreck our careers, it doesn’t mean I should let him.”
“Would it wreck it, though?”
“We’ve been over this,” I say, sighing. “Most of my viewers are great. Some? Not so great? And if there’s this big influx of people who just want the drama, it’ll only be a matter of time before it’s too stressful, until there’s too many awful comments.
Online, once a bandwagon gets started, it’s almost impossible to stop. ”
“Don’t worry about that part for now,” Mara says. “Just think about the two of you. Do you want my honest opinion?”
I wink. “Why do you think I bribed you with ice cream?”
She laughs. “You owe him an explanation. I know it’ll be tough. But clearly, based on his reaction when you told him to turn the boat around, he wasn’t trying to love bomb you, Dakky. He was trying to be nice.”
“You’re right,” I murmur. “And I threw it in his face.”
“Just give him a call,” she says.
I glance at the clock. It’s almost one in the morning. My stream ended thirty minutes ago, then Mara swung by. “It’s late—I’ll text.”
Mara smiles. “You two and your messaging obsession…”
I sit up in bed, knees tucked up to my chest, biting my lip as I look at our texting thread. The last exchange reads:
Jack: I think you’re going to love the final phase of this boss, beautiful.
My reply was.
Dakota: I can’t wait. Just make sure it’s not as easy as the expo version!
I take a breath, shocked at how nervous I am. It’s worse than I’ve been for any stream in years.
Dakota: Are you still curious about why I went all weird on the boat?
He types back straight away. I love this about us: no games, no waiting until we reply. Even Mara does that when she meets guys. She says she has to make them sweat. But we make each other sweat enough without resorting to that.
Jack: I’m curious about what upset you so much. But I wouldn’t categorize it as you going ‘all weird’. Something happened on that boat. Or maybe something happened another time, and the boat brought it up. Whatever it is, I’m ready to hear it. If you want to share it.
I take another breath, then let it out shakily.
Dakota: I sometimes compare my life to other people’s. This is a big thing for me, even now, at thirty years old. But for other people, people who have lived harder lives, it would be a blip.
Jack: You don’t need to qualify it. Or make excuses. Or anything like that.
Dakota: Since when did you become so enlightened?
Jack: Since I met you. That sounds like a line, but it’s the truth. I left college, then I lived two decades inside an office. Now, here I am.
I tap my finger against my chin, touched. I wish I could enjoy his compliments and attention without this mental block always holding me back.
Dakota: My dad never hit me. He DID hit my mom, and that’s just one reasons I’ve gone no-contact and I’ll stay no-contact. But he never hit me, not with his fists. But he had this way of controlling us, criticizing, making sure every little thing fit into his idea of who we were supposed to be.
I click send, then see the status turn to read.
Jack: I’m here, Dakota.
His words are the best thing he could’ve said.
Dakota: I hated it, even as a little kid.
Even before I knew that it was wrong, something in me rebelled against it.
Then I met Mara and her cousin, Noah. Noah was younger than us, but he was so, so perceptive.
He had autism, and it got really bad sometimes.
He’d stim for an hour straight. But after, he’d say things that were so simple, so direct, it stripped everything away.
I pause, coughing back a sob as I see his happy, bright face in my mind.
Dakota: As we got older, Noah began mentioning how wrong it was.
He said my dad had no right to be so involved in my life.
Not in those words, but it was enough. He and Mara helped me to distance myself from his control, to make my own identity.
If we went to a party and Dad started berating me, calling me names, talking about my body and sick things like that, they were always there.
I hit send, then wait anxiously. My feet insisting tapping against my mattress.
Jack: Christ, Dakota. That’s awful. I’m so sorry you had to experience that. At least you found your people at the right time. I don’t know what consolation that offers. I don’t know if I can offer anything. Except listening more.
Dakota: That’s all I want.
Jack: I’m here, Dakota.
I smile and sob at the same time, my throat going tight.
Dakota: Noah got sick when we were in our late teens. Unfortunately, he passed away. He’s the one who encouraged me to finally start streaming the game we’d all fallen in love with. Your game, Jack. He empowered me to make that decision. It was his last gift to me.
Jack: I’m so sorry. I wish I was there so I could give you a hug.
Dakota: I bet you’re wondering what relevance this has to the boat.
Jack: No.
Dakota: You’re not curious?
Jack: I could be wrong, but it makes sense to me already.
Dakota: Go on.
A minute passes with three dots on the screen, telling me he’s writing a message. Each moment feels like an eternity, stretching.
Finally, his message arrives.
Jack: This is how I see it, beautiful. Your father was a controlling, abusive POS.
Men like that don’t behave that way from the beginning.
Otherwise, they’d be alone forever. So, I bet he could turn on the charm, act like an angel when he needed to.
He probably took you on days out or bought you stuff.
That messed with your head, because that man was a monster, and yet there he was, being all nice like all that monstrous shit never happened.
And on the boat, that all came rushing back.
That’s why you mentioned love bombing. You were terrified I was going to take your agency away.
You saw that cove and it was like a dream come true, then came the pressure, the what if…
what if this man flips a switch, like your father did?
A pause, another message.
Jack: Or I’m literally mansplaining your emotions to you. In which case, tell me to STFU.
I laugh-cry again, heat swelling inside of me, warmth and affection and somehow, all good things. It’s like when he noticed little things on the stream, things no one else ever has… but times a million.
Dakota: That’s exactly it.
I look at my screen through tear-blurred eyes.
Dakota: It’s like you’ve read my mind. Seriously. How did you do that?
Jack: My father was very similar. He was away all the time, but when he was home, it was like he had to act like the big, impressive tough guy to make up for it.
That was why my mother wanted her own business.
And why its failure hit her so hard. I hate that I ever made you think I’d be like that.
I wasn’t trying to trick you with that cove, I swear.
Dakota: I know that now. I think I knew it then, even.
Jack: We can’t change our programming. We can recognize it’s wrong.
It’s not helping us. We might behave differently.
But the sad fact is, it will always be there.
I’ll have days when I’m a grumpy prick, and you might sometimes want to slap me for buying you flowers. I can live with that if you can.
More cry-laughter escapes me, a mix of emotion that has my head spinning.
Dakota: Do you think I’m being melodramatic?
Jack: No. I wish you’d stop downplaying your feelings. You don’t need to. Not with me. Not ever.
Dakota: Do you see why I’m being careful? My mom was strong and independent before she got married. My parents are divorced now. She’s opened up a lot in later years. She was like me—and he shrunk her.
Jack: I will never shrink you.
But that’s the sticking point. Just being together will mean I have to shrink. I’ll turn from an independent, successful streamer, a self-made woman, into, Oh yeah, I know that girl, she’s Jackson Cross’s girlfriend or something, right? Oh, she streams too?
Jack: What are your plans for the rest of the night?
Dakota: It’s 1:30AM
Jack: Tell me, Dakota.
Dakota: Uh, sleep? Unless you have a different idea?
Jack: Driving over there right now. Holding you. Doing everything I can to keep it sweet and sincere and not give into the lust that burns through me every time I so much as think about you.
Dakota: You’d really drive over here now?
Jack: I’m on my way. So you better tell me to stop before I get too far.
Dakota: I want to see you. But it’s not simple, Jack. I don’t think it’s ever going to be simple.
Jack: Forget about my company. Forget about your career. Forget about the storm raging outside, beautiful. Tonight, you’re just a woman who needs a hug, and I’m the man who needs to give it. Plus, I want to show you something.
Dakota: Not another surprise for me to ruin?
Jack:
Jack: You didn’t ruin it, because it led to this. I want to bring a photo album. It’s got photos of my mother and me.
Dakota: I’d love to see those!
Jack:
Jack: Do you have any of Noah? I’d like to see this magical little kid who changed your whole life.
Dakota: Only about a million!
Jack: Perfect. I’ll be there soon.
I drop my phone and rush to the mirror. I’m wearing a baggy T, no bra, and my hair is still damp from my post-stream shower.
My PJ shorts have got a hole—they’re my comfy pair—and I haven’t shaved my legs.
Mara has sometimes playfully joked, in a friendly way, about me having the world’s fastest-growing leg hair.
Should I shave? Change? I want him to see me at my best, but also, he’s coming here for emotional connection. There are still tears in my eyes. He’s not expecting a show.
Maybe I should start with some shorts that don’t have holes in, at least, and go from there. I go to my closet and take out a fresh pair. I’m debating which T-shirt to change into when a text arrives.
Jack: I’m outside.
Dakota: That was fast!
Jack: I was at the office.
Dakota: At one in the morning?
Jack: This redesign has sprawled into a dungeon with multiple levels—more like a raid, honestly—and multiple new caves for the role players. It’s a lot.
Dakota: You work too hard.
I look at myself in the mirror again. Screw it. If he can’t take tiny little black pinpricks on my exposed legs, is there even a shot at a real relationship?
Dakota: I’m coming down now.