The Patriot A Small Town Romance - Jennifer Millikin Page 0,111

around her shoulders. “It’s over now. Let’s go.”

I lead her down the steps. My brothers and my dad stand a few feet away, waiting on us to leave. Dakota pauses and shrugs me off. On unsteady feet, she walks over and hugs each one in turn. They nod at her, and then my dad looks at me only, inclining his head toward where we left the horses. His meaning is clear. Get out of here.

I take Dakota by the hand, using my flashlight to lead us back to the horses. We’re slow going, because her legs are shaking and she tells me they hurt. She also needs to pee, so I unbutton her jeans and tug them down, then help to keep her steady so she can go to the bathroom. She laughs shyly, and despite everything we’ve been through tonight, her cheeks flush.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Dakota.”

She finishes and I help her stand upright. Looking at her face, her strawberry hair, swathed in shades of darkness with only the flashlight to provide a slice of light, I’m overcome by how much she means to me.

She sags against me, and it reminds me of how much she has been through. I need to get her back to the homestead so my mom can look her over.

I untie Ranger and help Dakota up, then sit down behind her. She leans back into my chest, and we retrace our way through the woods, this time at a much slower pace.

The danger has passed.

I’ve got my girl.

And starting right now, I’m going to do things differently.

By now I know how I react to crises. I turn off my emotions, respond, and later, when I’m alone, I let go of the emotions I strangled. Tonight is no different. A lone tear slips down my cheek and I wipe it with my shoulder.

The hand that rests on my knee? It’s quivering, which is why I’m tapping my fingers. I can’t stand to watch my own shaking hand.

The other hand? It holds a generous two-finger pour of whiskey.

I’m sitting on the front porch of the homestead. My heritage is spread out before me, thick and lush grass, dirt road, and pine, but it doesn’t smell like my home. The fire was extinguished hours ago, and even though the smoke has dissipated, its scent clings to the air.

I’m looking at my land, the land I was willing to marry Dakota to get, but I don’t really see it. My mind is filled with Dakota.

Her shocked expression when I walked into my dad’s office that day. Indignant and angry, thinking I didn’t remember her. Then later on my front porch, her face softened with concern, urging me to help myself heal.

Dakota on her back, legs encircling my waist and riding a high with me.

Dakota on her knees, terrified.

And just a few minutes ago, allowing me to carry her into the guest room and lay her on the bed. On a normal day, that wildly independent woman would stand on her own two feet, but tonight is about as opposite from normal as it can get.

The front door opens and my mom steps out. She folds her arms across her chest and grips her upper arms as if it’s cold, even though it’s not. Perhaps she’s chilled by the events of the night.

She perches on the arm of the chair beside mine. “Dakota’s okay. Exhausted. I left her so she could get in the bath. She has some pretty good scrapes, especially on her knees. She said—” Mom cuts off, and when I look at her I find her cautious gaze already on me. “She said the scrapes on her knees are because she tried to run from him, and he tackled her from behind.”

Dixon can’t hurt Dakota anymore, but hot rage still burns through me. He got off easy, not just because of what he did tonight, but also because of the damage he’s been inflicting in town. The families he tore apart, the lives people lost due to his selling. Everyone is responsible for their own choices, but some choices wouldn’t be made if the opportunity never presented itself.

“But…” My mom’s voice upturns, like she’s grasping for a bright side. “She said she did a reverse head butt sort of thing to him.” She demonstrates by throwing her head back. “So I guess she got something good in.”

I can’t bring myself to feel good about it, because she shouldn’t have been in that position in the first place.