Rope the Moon (Runaway Ranch, #2)(32)

Fuck, do I feel that.

I lean forward and take her hand. Dakota stiffens, but her eyes grow soft. “Bravery is being scared and doing it anyway,” I say. “You don’t have to feel strong. You’re allowed to not want this, to be fucking pissed off and sad. But I see you, Koty. And I won’t let you fall.”

Dakota bites her lip, her eyes wide. “You won’t?”

“No. I won’t.” I squeeze her hand. “Your baby’s in there and safe. Now we worry about you. Back on your feet, right?”

She smiles. And damn, she’s stunning.

“Right.” Dakota whisks her thumb over my knuckle and I fight to keep my face stoic as an unexpected current of electricity slices up my arm.

The waitress drops off the food, and Dakota twists her hand out of mine. The loss of her touch has me fighting to catch my breath.

I take one last long glance and slide the sonogram photo back toward her. “Here.”

“No. I don’t want it back.” She bites her lip. “Give it to me when I’m ready, okay?”

My chest constricts, but I slip the photo into my pocket.

Dakota takes a deep breath and spears her pickle. “Speaking of mothers… I found mine, you know.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “No, I didn’t. Shit.”

“She’s a dealer in Vegas.” Dakota laughs bitterly. “I ran into her when I was there for a food and wine festival. She left us all those years ago, and that’s where she landed. Dealing cards in some shitty casino. She didn’t recognize me, and when I told her who I was, it was like one big shrug.”

“Fallon know?”

“No.” She picks at the corner of her burger. “Just another thing she’ll blame me for.”

“Dakota,” I warn. “You didn’t make her leave. And you’ll do better than your mother did.”

She makes a brief hum of consideration, pops a fry in her mouth, and chews. When she’s finished, she says, “You’re pretty smart for a man of few grunting words.”

I chuckle at that.

“I just…” Straightening in the booth, she presses a palm to the heel of her damp eyes. “I have to get it together. For my baby.”

“You will. And until then, you’re not alone. Do you hear me?”

Her brow wrinkles in that adorable way of hers. A wrinkled brow means Dakota’s beautiful brain is working. So fucking smart. Always a recipe running through there, a kind word for someone, a witty remark. Keeps me on my fucking toes. I’ve always loved that about her. Her big dreams. Her beautiful brain. A reminder that Dakota McGraw is made for great things. Better things than me.

I spent the last six years torturing myself over not asking her to stay. And now she’s back. In front of me like I can have her.

But I can’t.

She’s not staying permanently in Resurrection. She’ll heal, like the warrior she is, and go off to chase her dreams. She’s meant for the big city, for new adventures. I have a ranch, my brothers.

Dakota is a job. Keep her safe. Keep my distance.

Her faraway gaze drifts to the window. “What if I’m never safe?”

“You will be safe. Sure as my word, Dakota, I’ll protect you. It’s my job.”

Some of the light dies in her eyes as she looks back at me. “You’re such a good guy,” she muses, almost sadly.

“Which means…your number, Cupcake.” I pull out my phone. A grin tilts my lips. “Gonna need you to unblock me.”

She flushes.

“I’m so sorry I blocked you,” she admits in one long rush. “You have to know I never meant to freeze you out. I couldn’t risk him finding out about you.”

My breath stops. The thought never crossed my mind that someone told her to cut off our contact. That she was afraid. That she was protecting herself.

Her long lashes flutter. “It was the same with your dog tag.”

“You wore it,” I choke out. Unable to help it, my cock swells, and I grip the table.

“I always did,” she says, breathlessly. Her darkened gaze lingers on mine. “I never took it off. Until I met A—him.”

Damn, but I almost caught her there. The Marine in me wants to pry the name out of her. But she needs to open up on her own time. Even if it is slowly killing me.

Say his name, baby. Say his name and let me kill him.

She fingers the chain, dulled by time. The look on her face says she’s far away, reliving the past. “He was so jealous, so angry it was from another man. He hated it. I had to lock it up. Hide it away, so he wouldn’t—” A tiny cry escapes her mouth. She presses fingertips to her lips to smother the sound.

“Koty,” I warn, leaning in. Rage floods my system. I close my eyes, dangerously close to losing it. When I find that fucker, every bone in his body will be dust.

“Why didn’t you call me?” The question wrenches from my lips. A question I’ve ached to ask, but dread the answer.

She’s quiet for a long minute. “I didn’t call you because I was ashamed. I didn’t want you to know.”

It makes sense. To Dakota, losing control, admitting weakness, is her worst nightmare.

I lean in, pinning my gaze to hers. A growl rumbles up from my chest. “Trust me, Dakota, had I known, I would have come for you. And there would have been nothing keeping me from tearing him apart.”