Rope the Moon (Runaway Ranch, #2)(29)

Did you hear she left her daddy and that store?

That McGraw girl is out there, going it alone. Let’s see if she makes it.

Shame she ran just like her mama.

She’s ready for the big city? Well, let’s see how much of a big city girl she is when she sees how much everything costs.

I ached to put a fist through the face of anyone who dared talk badly about her.

Pacing across the floor, my focus shifts from the sterile waiting room to the door Dakota disappeared through. I don’t like that she went in alone, but what can I do? It’s better if it’s just her. It’s not my job to go with her.

A door opens.

Dakota walks toward me.

Fuck. She’s been crying. Just the sight alone threatens to take ten damn years off my life.

“Hey,” I say. “Everything okay?”

She sniffles. Forces a lukewarm smile. “Fine. Healthy. I have low blood sugar, but there’s a baby in there.”

Dakota glances down at her belly, and I fight the urge to yank her into my arms and keep her there. She looks so damn sad; she’s carving out my heart.

“I’m eighteen weeks,” she whispers, glancing up at me. “Eighteen. It feels like bad luck.”

“I don’t believe in bad luck.” I don’t want this kind of thinking for Koty.

She holds my gaze, as if she’s considering what to say next, when the lobby door opens.

With the chill of the ice-cold wind, come Stede and Fallon.

Surprise flares in Dakota’s eyes. “Daddy.”

“Hey, daydreamer.” Stede steps forward to squeeze Dakota’s arm. “Davis.”

I nod. “Sir.”

Dakota’s dark, hopeful eyes flick to her sister’s. “Hi, Fallon.”

There’s a hesitation in Fallon’s guarded gaze. It’s been obvious in the conversations I’ve had with Stede that something chilled between the sisters the day Dakota left town.

Fallon stays silent, giving a cool nod. Dakota’s face falls, and I clamp my teeth together to hide a growl.

Dakota takes a deep breath. “What’re you doing here?”

“Got treatment.” Stede’s gaze drops to Dakota’s stomach. “How’s that grandkid of mine?”

“Had my first appointment,” she offers, waving a hand over her stomach, but stopping just short of touching it.

I frown.

“Sure can’t wait to meet the little one,” Stede says, and Dakota’s face softens. Her father’s words are exactly what she needs.

Fallon, in a worn army-green jacket, shoulders her backpack. A Louis L’Amour book peeks out from a torn pocket. “C’mon, Dad, we should go.”

Dakota perks up. “I can stay with him.” She tucks a long lock of dark hair behind her ear.

Fallon looks like Dakota’s offered to auction her off in marriage. Her face is a storm cloud. “It’s okay. I read to him while we wait.”

“I can read too, you know.”

I silently swear as Dakota digs in her heels with a stubborn, older-sister attitude.

I take a step forward, wanting to intercept the argument before it starts, but Stede sighs. Blocks me from going forward. “Let it run its course, kid. You’re mad for five minutes; these girls stay mad for life.”

I look at Stede, the old man’s wise and weathered face, and a brick of trepidation lands in my stomach.

Dakota gives Fallon a long, pleading look. “He’s my father, too. Let me help.”

Fallon snorts. “I’ve been here since the beginning. You don’t know anything about his treatments and you don’t get to roll up in here and act like you’re some great savior.”

“Okay.” Dakota’s lower lip trembles. “You’re mad at me, I get it.”

“Do you get it, Dakota?” Fallon’s voice rises in the quiet lobby. “You can’t help. You got yourself into a mess you have to fix. You have to think of yourself. Like you’ve always done.”

Dakota closes her eyes at the verbal hit.

When they finally flash back open, I note the fierce spark of fire in her eyes. “That’s not fair,” Dakota snaps. “I didn’t even know Dad was sick. If you want to act like a martyr because I left town, so be it. But that’s on you, Fallon.”

Fallon utters a condescending laugh. “If that’s the story you want to tell yourself to feel better, good for you.”

Fuck it.

I can’t stay out of it. I don’t want animosity with Fallon, but if I have to choose between them, I’ll piss Fallon off every damn time to protect her sister.

“Look.” I glare at Fallon, hoping she gets my fucking point, that if she makes Dakota cry, she’s going to have a whole other set of problems. “Your sister’s been through a lot. Can you give her some grace?”

“Wish she’d give me some,” Fallon mutters.

A vein pulses in my temple.

These sisters couldn’t be more different. One evokes brotherly love and frustration in me, while the other has my heart full of so many fucking twists and turns I don’t know where my mind is half the time. I want to strangle Fallon. Kiss the fuck out of Dakota.

“You know, Fallon, you’re pissing me off and acting like a brat,” I bark. “Shut up.”