“Ryder.” Exasperation filled my tone as I hissed low, “Get out of the way before I pee my pants.”
He did, stepping farther to the left, only he took me by the elbow when I went to step by him, and he pressed me to the door. Caught off guard, my back flattened against the wood, mouth gaping at whatever he thought he was doing.
He loomed over me, illuminated in the light but still dark as midnight.
My breaths went short. Shaky and confused. The desire I shouldn’t feel had to be palpable in the fraction of space separating us.
Eyes ablaze, his head cocked to the side, and he continued to hold onto my elbow like I might suddenly disappear. “You think any of those women could ever be more important than you?”
My chest nearly caved with all the times he’d hurt me doing just that.
A sharp blade dragged across my flesh every time we’d been at a bar, and he’d walked out with someone else.
“More than that, you think I’ve ever brought one of them here?”
A scoff quivered free. “I might not know where you spend your time, Ryder, but I know how you spend it.”
There was no keeping the hurt out of it.
No faking it.
A thundercloud cracked through his expression.
Shame and regret.
Tears stung at the back of my eyes, and I turned my head away, dipping my chin in embarrassment.
God, the last thing I wanted was for him to feel sorry for me.
With his free hand, he reached out and forced me to look at him. “But that time isn’t important, Dakota. It’s wasted. Squandered. Told you before, if you need me, I’m there. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing. I would never forget you. Do you understand?”
Meet me in the place of the forgotten.
I gulped, and I could barely nod.
“Good.” He grunted it right before he turned and walked out without saying anything else.
He left me there, half pinned to the door and trying not to drop to my knees.
Wondering what the hell had just happened.
ELEVEN
DAKOTA
EIGHT YEARS OLD
Dakota moved down the narrow aisle, trying to pretend like she didn’t hear the snickering coming from the few kids who remained on the bus. With every step she took, her backpack swished on her back, hitting the sides of the seat, only making the kids snicker more.
Tears burned at her eyes, and her throat tingled, and as hard as she fought to hold them back, one had already gotten free by the time she made it up to the bus driver.
Ms. Sally smiled at her, though there was a bit of a frown on her face.
“Are you okay?”
Dakota nodded quickly, trying to swallow the ugly feeling, to keep it hidden when it felt so big and yucky it fought to burst out.
Ms. Sally’s worry deepened, though she just angled her head and said, “All right. You take care of yourself, Dakota. Tell your mom I said hi.”
Dakota could hardly nod again as she scrambled down the steps as fast as she could. The soles of her tennis shoes hit the gravelly pavement, and they thudded hard beneath her as she made a beeline in the direction of her house without fully running.
If they saw her running, they’d know why.
The loud engine of the bus churned, and the axles squeaked as it began to roll up the road. The second it disappeared over the hump up ahead, she started to run.
This was just as the full impact of her tears began to fall.
She looked at the door of her house, and she knew it’d be safe inside, that her mom would take her in her arms and hug her tight, but there was something that wouldn’t let her do that. She didn’t want her mom looking at her that way.
With that sadness that swam in her eyes and the way her voice always shook when she promised, It will be okay. Kids at school can be really mean. They don’t know what they are talking about, and you can’t let them get to you. Not when you’re so wonderful.
And maybe they were really stupid and dumb, but that didn’t mean it didn’t make Dakota’s stomach feel sick every time she overheard the whispers.
Those were bad enough.
But it was the loud ones that hurt the worst.
When someone said something like Mason did and everyone laughed, half of them in her face and others trying to pretend like they hadn’t.
She didn’t take the walkway up to the house, and instead, she wound around the side of it, following the path that ran along the back fence and led to the small stream in the woods behind their property.
There was a big tree with a branch that hung close to the ground, so low she was able to crawl up and sit on it.
She unwound the straps of her backpack from her shoulders and let it fall to the grass, then she began to carefully climb up the slanted branch, finding the spot where she could wedge herself into a nook and use it as a seat.
She closed her eyes tight and listened to the babbling of the water and the birds in the trees. Hugged herself hard as she focused on the soft breeze skimming over her hot, fiery skin.
Here was where she could pretend like she could just disappear.
Only she startled when she heard the snap of a twig behind her, and she whirled around in shock, a sound squeezing from her throat when she did.
Then she whipped back around when she remembered her entire face was a mess of snot and tears. She couldn’t let him see her like this.
Yet he didn’t go away.
He climbed up beside her.
Sniffling, she ran the sleeve of her shirt over her face like she could mop up all the evidence.
“What’s wrong?” Ryder asked, trying to peer around her to look at her face.
She shifted farther to the side and mumbled, “Nothin’.”
“I don’t think it’s nothin’ if you’re crying.”
She sniffled again, wishing he would go away all while wishing he would stay. She both hated and liked being around him. Hated and liked the butterflies that flew in her belly when he looked at her. The heavy, strange sensation she got in her chest.
It made her feel shy, but also like she didn’t want to be anywhere else.
“Hey,” he said when she didn’t answer, and he set a hand on her arm and tried to turn her toward him. She finally gave in, looking up at his eyes that were the same color as the night. Twinkling like they had stars in them, but so dark she couldn’t tell how deep they went. “Tell me what’s wrong. You know you can tell me anything. Is someone being mean to you?”
Her teeth grabbed onto her lip, and she bit down to stop herself from admitting it.
“It’s fine,” she said.
“No, it’s not fine if someone is being mean to you, Dakota.” His voice got hard.
She turned away and drew up her legs, hugging her knees to her chest. “Lots of people are mean.” She mumbled that like a dirty secret.
“Who?” he demanded.
“Mostly this dumb boy in class.” She choked over that, and the tears started coming harder again.
“What’s he saying to you?”
She buried her face in her knees, hating the way it hurt to breathe. “I brought cookies into class to share for Paisley’s birthday.”
“That’s cool.”
She shook her head. “At lunch, Mason said I was a fat Betty Crocker.”
Anger moved through him. She could feel it. “He’s nothing but a jerk, Dakota. Everybody’s got their own size. Look at your brother. He’s two times the size of me. You don’t listen to people like that. Besides, my mom says you’re the prettiest girl she’s ever seen.”
“Really?”
Did he think that, too?
“Yeah. He’s probably just jealous of you because he doesn’t get to have all the awesome stuff you make. And who the heck is Betty Crocker?”
She almost laughed, but she was still crying full force, and it made her hiccup instead. “She’s a baker. My favorite one. My mom gave me her old cookbook.”
She’d learned every single one of the recipes inside, and she’d started changing them a bit, making them her own.
Her mom said she had a special talent.
A gift to share with the world.
She wasn’t so sure about that right then.
“Well, whoever this Betty Crocker is, I bet she’s not half as cool as you.”
She knew he was just trying to make her feel better, but he didn’t get it. How everyone had laughed. Even some of her friends.