Before I hit the road, Dakota and I finally had it out. She told me I was brooding, I told her she was bitchy, and we decided to lay it all out on the line.
I figured everything else had pretty much been ruined, and I wasn’t enjoying my current relationship with Dakota anyway—how we tiptoed around each other—so I needed to finally have an open discussion with her.
“I can’t be who you want me to be,” I said one morning over a cup of coffee. It had been quiet between us. I could tell stuff had been on her mind, too. We used to be more open with each other. Until I had stuff to hide.
And now I still had stuff to hide, and I was weary from the effort.
What in the hell did I have to lose anyway?
“Which is who, exactly?” she said, huffing out a gust of air.
As if she’d been exasperated with me. The same thing I’d been feeling from her since my friends had come up for the concert. Even they’d given me less shit than she had. Sure, they’d call under the pretense of worrying about my campus housing, when in reality it was about my health and I couldn’t begrudge them that.
They seemed to have moved beyond the fact that I had kept plenty from them. But it appeared Dakota couldn’t.
“Miss Goody-Goody,” I said, straightening myself and trying not to cave under her stern gaze. “I know I was that girl before, but I’m not anymore.”
“Finally,” she said, letting out a breath. “God, Rachel, you may not realize this, but I actually admire you.”
“Admire me?” I said in a daze. Dakota’s entire countenance had changed. “For what?”
“For one thing, fighting so hard through your recovery. You went through hell day in and day out.” She grabbed the creamer and topped off her coffee. “And second, for just . . . being your own person. Doing what you wanted. It wasn’t the best way, surely . . .”
I rolled my eyes. She just couldn’t help herself.
“But you were strong. You did things your own way.” Her hand slapped the table, making me jump. “You weren’t completely out-of-your-mind scared about the future—like I’d been for you. I was freaked out and probably didn’t always act in your best interest. I’m sure I was a pain in the butt most of the time.”
I thought of how sheltered I’d felt by Dakota and my parents and how I’d longed to just break free and fly away . . . like Kai. How beautiful he looked in all of his uninhibited glory.
So maybe I had channeled a bit of him during the past three years.
Just thinking about Kai hurt my heart.
“Thank you, Dakota. Hearing you voice that . . . means the world to me,” I said, all of my anger flying out the window. “You’re kind of hard to hold a candle to.”
“Yeah, right,” she mumbled. “I know I act like I’m Miss Perfect—at least that’s what Shane calls me.”
She dipped her head. That was such an un-Dakota-like move that my eyes flicked up to study her. “Is that why you’ve been . . . walking around like you have a stick up your ass?”
“Kind of . . .” She bit her lip.
“Out with it, now,” I said, nudging her leg beneath the table. “Dakota, we used to tell each other everything. What happened to us?”
She gave me one of her award-winning looks.
“Okay, I get it—I had everything to do with that. Keeping our phone calls and visits short. I’m sorry.”
“I’d like to get back to where we once were,” she said.
“Start by telling me what’s wrong,” I said. I knew by saying that I might have to reciprocate, but at this point, I was tired of holding it all in.
“Shane is leaving next week.” She took a fortifying breath. “You are, too. And Kai already left.”
God, how selfish had I been that I didn’t notice that my seemingly strong friend would also feel left behind? She just always sounded so tough—working a ton of hours, hanging out with casino employees, and keeping busy with her college courses.
“Oh, honey,” I stood up to give her a one-armed hug. We were verbal but not always demonstrative in our affection. But I felt like I needed to be this time. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”
“Of course I do—you guys are my family.”
I playfully yanked on a strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail. “Shane is your family, too?”
“Well, no. Shane and I . . .” She looked down at the table, a rose color climbing up her cheeks.
“There’s something there, asshead. I’m no dummy,” I practically hissed. “Massive sexual chemistry.”
“I’ve been denying it for a long time,” she said, finally looking me in the eye.