by Reese Ryan
“I’ve proposed a handful of festival ideas over the years. No one has ever taken them seriously. But I guess in a cutthroat city like New York, you learn to do whatever it takes to come out on top. Then again, you were always pretty good at that anyway.”
Okay, now Dakota was pissed.
She whipped around, her arms folded. “What the hell are you talking about, Angela?”
The woman behind Angela covered her young son’s ears. Dakota mouthed an apology.
“I hear that you talked Dexter into taking you to some expensive festival in New England for a long weekend. Just the two of you. You always did have a way of convincing him to do nearly anything for you. The poor lovesick fool adored you so much he even ‘broke up’ with you”—Angela used air quotes—“just to save your precious future. Because the great Dakota Jones was too good to go anywhere but NYU. Like you were more special than the rest of us.”
All of the arguments and finger wagging Dakota had planned died when Angela mentioned the breakup.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dakota resisted the urge to shove the woman.
But the truth was, Angela did seem to know what she was talking about. Dexter had only admitted to her a few weeks ago the real reason for their breakup. So how on earth did Angela Gilson, of all people, know the truth?
“Sorry, I forgot you didn’t know the real reason he broke up with you,” Angela said smugly.
Dakota grabbed the woman by the arm and led her away from the line.
“Hey! We lost our place. You do realize the store will be closing soon,” Angela whined.
“Then I guess you’d better talk fast.” Dakota glared at her. “And if you’re lying, I swear I’ll dig up every bucktoothed, braces-wearing picture I can find of you and post them online.” She shoved a finger in the woman’s face. “Now spill what you know.”
Angela flipped her dark extensions over one shoulder and batted her long, thick eyelashes. She sat on a nearby bench and indicated that Dakota should sit in the seat beside her.
“I’d prefer to stand, thanks,” Dakota said, her patience wearing thin.
“Suit yourself.” Angela shrugged. “Dexter never wanted to break up with you. Your mother put him up to it.”
“That’s a lie, and I told you if you lied—”
“It isn’t a lie.” The woman looked genuinely outraged by the accusation. “Your mother offered Dexter five grand if he’d break up with you.”
“My father would never have given her a portion of their savings for a foolish scheme like that.” Dakota should’ve known this pathetic, jealous troublemaker was full of lies.
“Of course not. But it was not long after your mother’s wealthy aunt died. She left your mother some money, and she was willing to use most of it to sabotage your relationship with Dexter.”
Dakota’s spine stiffened and her heart started to beat harder. The part about her mother’s aunt leaving her some money was true, though Dakota had never known exactly how much or how her parents had used it. She also knew that her mother hadn’t wanted her to stay with Dex after he went off to college. She’d tried everything in her power to convince Dakota that she should focus on school and her career, not some boy.
“If that was true, why wouldn’t my mother have offered me the money instead?”
Angela laughed. “Are you kidding? You’ve always been as stubborn as a mule. The more your mama tried to talk you out of being with Dex, the more in love with him you proclaimed you were. Her only hope was to appeal to Dexter’s love for you.”
“So you’re saying that Dexter broke up with me for the money?” Dakota’s legs suddenly felt weak. She dropped onto the bench beside Angela.
“Told you that you were gonna wanna have a seat.”
Don’t throat punch her. Don’t throat punch her. Don’t—
“And no. Dexter Roberts is too honorable to have given up the love of his life for money. He was hurt and angry on your behalf that your mother would even offer him a deal like that.”
Now, that sounds like the Dexter Roberts I know.
“So if everything you’ve said is true, why did Dexter break up with me?” Dakota couldn’t believe she was asking the question of Angela. But if there was any truth to what the woman was saying, she needed to know.
Angela sighed, her mood shifting from contemptuous to something that almost seemed like admiration. “Your mother tried to convince Dex that if you stayed together he would ruin your life. That you’d be sidetracked from the career you’d been planning for since you were ten. He promised that he’d never let that happen, and he reminded her of how independent her daughter was. But then he came home for Christmas and you—”
“I told him I was changing my plans to go to NYU. That I was following him to Texas A&M instead.” Dakota pressed a hand to her forehead. “It was one of my gifts to him. That’s when he said he wanted to break up.”
Dakota had always believed Dex broke up with her because he was seeing someone else at school and didn’t want her following him there. But that wasn’t it at all. He’d promised her mother he’d never let her derail her career for him, and then she’d gone and done just that.
“Like I said, he was head over heels in love with you. And was willing to sacrifice being with you so you could have the life your mother always dreamed of,” Angela said, the mocking tone back in her voice.
So you could have the life your mother always dreamed of.
The words played over and over in Dakota’s head. Dex’s father and Dakota’s mother hadn’t been so different. Her mother had always told the story as if Dakota had chosen to be a big city reporter of her own volition. But in reality, it had been a goal that her mother had always guided her toward. Because her mother had been a local reporter for her small town’s newspaper. And she’d had aspirations of going into television broadcasting.
Because of her inquisitive nature, Dakota had come to love journalism. Especially once she’d started working on hard-hitting stories that impacted people’s lives. But she hadn’t come to the decision on her own.
“How did you know all of this?” Dakota asked.
Angela’s cheeks flushed, as if she did in fact have the capability to be ashamed. “When your mom got really sick, she’d come to visit my mother sometimes, when she felt up to it. They’d talk on the screened porch. You know the one where we would listen to them through the vents when we were kids?”
Dakota jumped to her feet, startling Angela. Angela held up her hands in defense, as if she feared Dakota was going to attack her. But as much as she’d enjoy seeing Angela Gilson land in those prickly bushes behind her, feet in the air, the woman wasn’t worth spending a night in the town jail.
She turned and headed toward her father’s truck, not bothering to say goodbye.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dexter was doing push-ups in his bedroom when there was a sudden banging on the front door. It was the kind you’d expect when the building was on fire or there was an evacuation order. He hopped to his feet, searching for a T-shirt.
But then came another round of the urgent banging. He tossed the shirt over his shoulder and strode to the door. Dex looked through the peephole, surprised at the source of the noise. He swung the door open.
“Dakota? The way you’re knocking, I thought you were a sheriff’s deputy trying to clear the building.” He chuckled, but his demeanor shifted immediately when he saw that her eyes were watery and her chin trembled, as if she were on the verge of tears. She clutched at her stomach, her shoulders rounded.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Your hands are shaking. Is your father okay?” Dex reached for her, but Dakota flinched, pulling her hand just out of his reach. As if the thought of him touching her was repulsive.
Her reaction knocked him on his ass. His muscles tensed and his heart thudded in his chest. Whatever had happened earlier to make Dakota pull away…this was ten times worse. She hadn’t even said whatever it was that she ha
d come to say. Yet he could see it in her eyes. Disappointment. Fury. Pain.
“My dad’s fine.” Dakota dragged her fingers through her hair, not looking at him directly. “Is it okay if I come in for a minute?”
“Of course.” It was an odd question, since he hadn’t wanted Dakota to leave in the first place. He stepped aside, so she could enter the condo.
“I need to ask you a question, Dexter, and I need you to be completely straight with me. No bullshitting. Promise me that.” She lifted her chin, finally meeting his gaze.
Dexter took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. It was a loaded request. One that felt like the beginning of the end for them. Still, whatever it was that she’d come there to ask him, he wouldn’t lie to her about it. Couldn’t lie to her about it. Regardless of the consequences for either of them. Because he loved her.
It was the same reason he’d fought so hard to keep the truth from her. Because he loved her and didn’t want her to be hurt by the truth. He’d spent his entire life trying to fix things. And people. And while his propensity for problem solving made him outstanding at his job, it was exhausting and sometimes backfired in his personal life.
As a kid, he’d tried to be the glue that would mend his parents’ broken relationship. The star player that would make his father’s derailed life a little less disappointing. The bridge between his father and grandfather’s fractured relationship. And he’d been willing to make a painful sacrifice to prevent Dakota from throwing away her aspirations while also shielding her from the ugly truth.
But he realized now that had never been his call to make. It was Dakota’s life, not his. Even back then, he should’ve trusted her to make the right choice for herself and then respected her decision. Whatever it may have been. He couldn’t fix his past mistake. But he could do the right thing now.
She deserves the unfiltered truth.
He nodded, swallowing hard, his throat dry. “Of course, Dakota. Ask me anything.”
“First…can you put on your shirt? I can’t have this conversation right now with you looking like that.” She waved her hands in front of his abs, her appreciative gaze trailing down his chest and settling on the outline visible through his black basketball shorts before she shut her eyes and folded her arms.
Maybe she’d been hit by the memory of what had happened between them up against the wall behind her just a few short hours ago.
He obliged her, putting on his shirt. “Can I get you some water? Tea? A glass of wine?”
“No. All I want is the truth,” she whispered, her voice breaking as her gaze locked on his. “I just ran into Angela Gilson in the line at Helene’s Homemade.”
Shit.
Dexter sucked in a quiet breath. Any story with a setup of According to Angela Gilson would not end well. But there was also a good chance that it would amount to nothing more than vicious gossip or contrived innuendo.
“Did my mother ever offer you money to break up with me?”
Dakota’s pointed question felt like a ton of bricks being dumped onto his head. He’d long hoped she’d never need learn of the drastic measures her mother had gone to in order to separate them. But regardless of what would happen between them, she deserved to know.
“Yes.” He sagged against one of the barstools, his response a harsh whisper. “Right before I left for college, she offered me five thousand dollars to break things off with you.”
She pressed a hand to her mouth, fat tears rolling down her cheeks.
He would’ve done anything to erase the betrayal and pain she must be feeling. And though he had the overwhelming desire to take her in his arms and comfort her, it was the last thing she wanted from him right now. Anger and disappointment were evident in her scowl and the way she glared at him.
She didn’t want anything to do with him. The way she hovered near the entrance of the condo, he was afraid that she planned to dash out of the door at any moment.
“Did you take it?”
“No. I never even considered it.” It hurt that she believed he would’ve accepted her mother’s offer.
“Your family could’ve used that money, and you ended up breaking up with me anyway. So why didn’t you take it, Dex?” She wiped angrily at the tears that ran down her face.
She’d been all he really wanted back then. Not a pro football career or fame. He’d just wanted her. And he’d given up any hope of being with her because he’d thought he was acting in her best interest. So her needing to ask that question…it hurt like hell.
“I loved you, Dakota. I would never have taken a bribe to walk away from you.”
“But you did walk away, Dex. And this time I want you to tell me the truth about why. I need to know.”
Dex sat on the edge of the kitchen stool, his pulse pounding. His heart felt as heavy as it had that day. The day he’d broken her heart and his.
“As long as I’d known you, the only thing you’d ever said you wanted to be was a reporter. And not just any reporter. You wanted to be the best. And you were convinced that the only way that would happen was if you moved to New York and went to NYU for your undergrad and grad school.” He swallowed roughly, his mouth suddenly parched and his throat dry.
“Your mother had approached me several times to say that we were too young to be so serious and that if I wasn’t careful, I would ruin your life. I assured her that wouldn’t happen because I loved you more than anything, Dakota.” He huffed, his chest heaving. “And after all this time, that hasn’t changed.”
“Then why did you break up with me?”
“I promised your mother I wouldn’t do anything to derail your life. But then I came home for Christmas that first year of college and you’d decided to trash all of your carefully laid-out plans to follow me to school in Texas,” he said. “It was exactly what your mother was afraid of.”
“I know that you both cared about me, but it was my life, Dex.” Dakota slapped her chest with her open palm. “So it wasn’t your choice or hers to make. You didn’t even have the decency to talk to me about it. And then you made a decision that completely changed the trajectory of our lives.” Her voice broke, more tears streaming down her face.
“I know, it was a colossal mistake, but…” He choked back the emotion clogging his throat and scrubbed a hand down his face. “But I swear to you, Dakota, I did it because I loved you and I wanted the best for you. I wanted you to be happy—”
“I was happy, Dex,” she interrupted, her hand shaking as she wiped away tears. “Being with you made me happy. And you took that away from me, away from us, without even consulting me. You should’ve trusted me to make my own decision.”
“I know we were happy together then. But so were my parents in the beginning. And I couldn’t help thinking of my dad. How resentful he was that his life didn’t go according to plan and it was because of me. I couldn’t bear the thought of you one day resenting your life with me, the way my father did. Or that you’d regret the things you hadn’t done in your life, like your mom. So I ended things between us, hoping we’d eventually find our way back to each other.” Dexter rubbed at the insistent ache in his chest, wishing, as he had so many times before, that he could have that pivotal moment in his life back. That he’d made a different decision. “No one was more thrilled than I was when you returned home. It was the first time I’d laid eyes on you since your mother’s funeral.”
“You weren’t at my mother’s funeral.” She scowled, her eyes blazing with both hurt and anger.
“I was there, sweetheart,” he said softly. He wanted to hold her to his chest. Rain kisses on her forehead and face. But the way she paced the floor several feet away from him, tension in her shoulders and her brows furrowed, made it clear that she didn’t want his comfort. “I would never have missed being there.”
“No, you weren’t,” she repeated the words, louder this time, her voice trembling. “I know because I looked for you. Despite everything that happened between us, I needed to know that you were
there. That some small part of you still cared. It was the most painful day of my life, Dex. And everyone in town was there except for you.”
“I was there, Dakota,” he said again, his heart aching. It had been another missed opportunity. “You wore that black dress with the jacket that your mother bought you for church. The one you swore you’d never wear because you said it made you look like someone’s great-grandmother.” His mouth pulled into an involuntary smile at the memory, despite the gravity of the conversation. “You refused to wear it, but your mother liked you in it, so she never returned it. She always hoped you’d change your mind because it was smart and—”
“Sensible,” she finished her mother’s words. “You were there.” She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth and her eyes drifted closed momentarily. Her shoulders seemed to sag with relief. She took a few steps toward him, and for the first time since she’d walked through the door, he felt hopeful. “But why didn’t I see you?”
“I sat at the back of the church. I couldn’t not be there, but you were already hurting so badly.” He inhaled deeply, remembering the pained look on her face when she’d entered the church that day, clutching her father’s hand. How it had torn him up inside to see her hurting, knowing there was nothing he could do. “You were furious with me. The last thing I wanted to do was agitate you at a time when you were already suffering. So I didn’t come to the house to pay my respects, but I did send something. Lemon meringue pie.” He smiled faintly. “Your favorite.”
Every day—for the two weeks she was in town after her mother’s funeral—a mini lemon meringue pie had been delivered from the local bakery with a simple note: From the people who love you here on Holly Grove Island.
“That was you?” she stammered, her eyes wide. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you just come to the house?”
“I was terrified you couldn’t forgive me,” he admitted. “And the idea of closing the door on us forever…I didn’t want to take that chance.”
