Rope the Moon (Runaway Ranch, #2)(91)

I give him a wink. “Be sure to save you some.”

Lou shuffles out of the store, making way for Clyde and his six-pack. After that, the store is quiet. Fallon’s called in late, so I make myself useful, whipping up a batch of cinnamon rolls and letting the dough rise.

Finished, I exit the kitchen and cross to the big window overlooking Main Street. Warm. Sunny. Spring’s in the air. Shops and boutiques and restaurants are all getting ready for the tourist season. When the ice melts in the pass, that’s the sign our small town is open for business.

My gaze flits around The Corner Store. Nostalgia sweeps over me. But also change.

I reach in the back pocket of my jeans and unfold the check I got this afternoon—the fire insurance claim payout for Milk & Honey. A nice sum that has me marveling at all that money.

I can see it all. The realm of possibilities. My bakery. A place with warm coffee and caramel rolls. A place that opens with the sun and closes before the day is done. That grows with Resurrection, not against.

For so long, I thought it was all about escaping my hometown and moving on to bigger and better things. But finally, I see Resurrection for what it was: a place to leave.

And I see it for what it is now. A place to be.

And I shouldn’t feel bad about that.

That’s what second chances are for.

That’s the life I make.

I had to grow out and grow up first.

Because sometimes there is no place like home.

I glance at the police station where I know Davis is watching and fall just a little harder in love.

My core warms, and a familiar throbbing between my legs makes me sigh. I smile at the memory of Davis’s hands running over my body, and I love you on his lips. It feels like a fever dream. I’ve wanted him for so long, and now…he’s mine.

Since we officially said I love you, calm has settled over my soul.

This life I am building, this baby, Davis…it suddenly doesn’t feel so nebulous. It feels real. Hope’s a bright flame burning in my chest. I both crave and fear it. Because it means I have something I cherish. Something I can lose at any time.

I’m still terrified Aiden’s lurking somewhere in the shadows, still unsure about where the future will lead, but as for me and Davis…

We are the right-now. And I’m all-in.

I slide a hand over the curve of my belly, then deposit the check back in my purse. I’m making shit happen. Making my life right for me and my son.

The door opens, and Fallon slinks in. “Sorry, I’m late,” she says, avoiding my gaze. “Late night.”

“Lot of those lately.” She’s been noticeably absent from The Corner Store, calling out of her last two shifts to work the rodeo circuit in Round Up. She’s been keeping ungodly hours and coming to work tired as hell.

Fallon gives me side-eye. “Planted at the window like some war wife? Let me guess…daydreaming about your Marine?”

I laugh. “Not much to do. You could have stayed home. But since you’re here,” I say, trying to sound casual. “I wanted to talk to you about The Corner Store.” She’s the first one I need on my side if I’m going to talk to our father about taking it over.

“What about it?” Fallon hisses a breath as she sinks into a squat. The back of her shirt rides up as she stuffs her duffel under the front counter.

That’s when I see the bruises.

Up and down her back, spattered like war paint. Yellow tells me some are old, but there are fresh ones.

My pulse skyrockets. “Fallon,” I croak. “What happened?”

My sister gives me a strange look as she stands. “What do you mean?”

“Your back.”

She busies herself at the candy counter, making me even more anxious. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit. That’s not nothing. Look at me.”

Shoulders stiff, she slowly turns. Oh god. Her right eye is black and blue. I recognize the attempt to disguise it with concealer.

My body freezes and revs up at the same time. Alarm races along my spine, and it’s the moment where I remember who the fuck I am.

I take a step toward her. “The guy you’re seeing. Did he do this?”

Fallon’s eyes dart to the door. Fear flashes across her face, her ice-queen routine disappearing briefly. “Do what?”

“Cut the shit.” I grab her arm. “Did he do this? Did he hurt you?”

“What?” She squirms in my grip, but I tighten my hold. I fist my hand in the hem of her shirt and yank it up. My eyes widen at a large bruise on her right side.

“God, Dakota,” she complains, struggling to pull her shirt down. “For a pregnant woman, you have actual insane strength.”

“What’s going on?” My voice borders on hysteria. I feel rage building in my chest. Rage for my sister. For myself. I think of her late nights, her duffel bag, her strange, secretive boyfriend.

“Tell me now,” I demand, not bothering to let her loose. My heart feels like it’s in a vise. If I have to tattle to Davis to keep her safe, I will.

She holds up one hand. “It’s not what you think.”

“Talk to me,” I demand. “I know I left you, but I’m here now. I’m here, Fallon.”

“Stop. Stop,” Fallon hisses, using the leverage I have on her to pull me in closer. She holds my cheek with her free hand. “You don’t have to do this, Koty.”