“I mean, no . . . but . . . you haven’t heard from him?” I ask, more concern growing.
“No, but that’s normal too. He can get into these moods where he doesn’t want to see anyone. He’ll sometimes go up north and stay in the family cottage up there. If you two had words, he’s probably up there.”
Oh.
So . . . he’s just mad.
“Okay.” I clear my throat. “Well, thanks for letting me know.” Leith gives me a quick nod and heads out of the coffee shop.
Isla moves to the counter and takes my hand. “Where do we start?”
I clutch my phone. “Find My Phone. We’ll track her down.”
I open up the app and quickly click on Dakota’s name. Isla leans over, and when the app pinpoints her, Isla nods next to me. “Badicaul. I know where she is. Come on. I’ll drive.”
“Do you want to talk about what happened with Rowan?” Isla says as we drive to what seems to be an outlook on a beach in Badicaul, northwest of Corsekelly. When we spotted her on Find My Phone, Isla explained that it was a place she’d told Dakota about on one of their dates. She said she didn’t think there was anything dangerous there—no cliffs or anything like that—which now eases my beating heart, slightly. Not that I think Dakota would hurt herself, but then again, I’m not sure what kind of mental state she’s in at this point.
Staring out the window, I watch the rolling green hills pass by as I shake my head. “Not really. I don’t think there’s much to talk about, honestly. I already went through all of it with Leith.”
“Did he say Rowan would come round?”
“Pretty much.”
“Trust him—he’s right.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, trying to rein in my emotions. I’m over crying at this point. I’ve shed way too many tears.
“But honestly, if he does come around, hasn’t the damage already been done?” I ask, my mind racing with disappointment. Did I push him away by being too caught up with my own life problems, just like I did with Dakota?
“Is the damage so bad you can’t work through it?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper as we pull down a dirt road and go toward the water’s edge.
Nerves tickle my throat, tightening my vocal cords. We curve around a bend, and then our MINI Cooper comes into view, followed by Dakota, sitting on the flat ground overlooking the shore. She’s staring out at the water, her legs pulled to her chest.
“There she is,” Isla says, relief in her voice.
At the sound of the car approaching, Dakota looks behind her, and I see her ravaged eyes, bloodshot and sunken. My heart twists in my chest, and before Isla can stop the car, I’m unbuckling my seat belt.
“Do you mind staying in the car so I can talk to her first?”
“Not at all,” Isla answers, understanding in her eyes.
“Thank you.”
Once the car is parked, I hop out and head to Dakota, who turns away again. I have no clue if I’m looking at a loch or the ocean at this point, but whatever it is, it’s pretty.
Not saying a word, I take a seat next to her and mimic her position, bringing my legs into my chest.
“Find My Phone?” she asks, her voice brittle.
“Yeah. I’m glad you were psychotic about losing me when we decided to move here and forced me to download it, just in case.”
“Glad it came in handy.”
She falls silent, and I allow the moment of quiet to hang between us. Sometimes you just need a friend beside you to ease the anguish in your chest before you can talk about it.
After a few draining minutes, I hear her sniffle. I look to the side and catch her wiping her eyes. Her tears feel like a punch in the gut. Dakota’s pretty emotionally tough, almost stoic sometimes, and I’ve only seen her cry a handful of times. Today being one of them.
I wrap my arm around her as the wind picks up, making it chillier than I care for, and I pull her closer. She automatically rests her head on my shoulder and quietly says, “I’m sorry, Bonnie.”
“Why are you sorry?” I ask, confused. “I’m the one who screwed up.”
She shakes her head. “No, I screwed up. I made you believe you were the lost one, that you needed to find yourself, when in reality it’s me who’s lost.” Her voice grows tight. “I have no idea who I am. I lost myself with Isabella, and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered, even though I’ve been pretending that I have.”
“Hey.” I squeeze her tight. “Relationships don’t define us, Dakota; they only help mold us into the people we’re supposed to become.”