The Highland Fling(98)
“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.”
“And what have I become?” She wipes at her nose. “I’m not proud of what I said to you, how I’ve acted, how I neglected to show up for you today because I was too embarrassed, too ashamed. I’m not proud of who I am when I’m with Isla, and not because there’s anything wrong with her. She’s perfect, actually, but she just reminds me how fucked up in the head I am. I second-guess everything. I’m terrified that after every conversation with her, she’s going to judge me, scold me, tell me that’s not how to be a lesbian, how to carry myself. She’s so damn amazing, and I honestly don’t think I’m healthy enough to have that kind of relationship.”
“A loving one?” I ask. “Because I think that’s exactly what you need. Someone to nurture you, remind you of just how special you are and everything you have to offer this world.”
“I have nothing to offer.”
“That’s not true, and I’ll tell you why—because the girl who’s sitting in the car right now was worried sick about you. There is so much love in her eyes, Dakota. The entire drive here, she was telling me how much she cares about you, how happy you make her, how she wishes she hadn’t given you space because she doesn’t want to lose you.” I squeeze her tight. “You offer so much value, and you can’t even see it.”
She lifts her head and wipes her eyes. “She said that to you?”
I nod, wiping at Dakota’s eyes as well. “You might feel broken, but she doesn’t see you that way, and neither do I. I see you as a strong woman, a strong gay woman who knows herself but is just wary of trusting her intuition.” I press my hand to her heart. “This is your path, your guide. Follow it, Dakota, and don’t let your mind tell you otherwise. You have value—you are worth everything to me, to Isla, and yes, it will take time to shake the damage Isabella has done to you, but guess what—she didn’t break you, girl . . . she just bent you. It’s time to straighten you out . . . well, not like praying you back to straight, but you know, keep the gay, but just straighten—”
“I know what you mean.” She laughs and sighs. “Jesus, Bonnie, I can’t believe I said those things to you. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I’m sorry I told your story to Isla. I never should have done that. I understand how important it is, and I think I was just trying to cling to anything that would keep you close. I felt you drifting away, and it scared me. I didn’t want to lose you.”
“I felt you drifting away too,” she admits. “First with the coffee shop, then with Rowan. I felt like they were all more important than me, but instead of talking to you about it, I bottled it up and chose some painful words to shout at you—words I didn’t mean.”
“There was some truth to them, even though they hurt. There’s truth.”
“I’m proud of you, though.” She faces me, sitting cross-legged. “I’m so proud of you, Bonnie, and I can’t believe I missed the opening. It was selfish and wrong and—”
“It’s okay.” And I mean that. It’s really okay. During the drive, I wasn’t thinking about the coffee shop. I was thinking that I might lose my friend, my rock, the one person who’s been through all the ups and downs of my life. I can’t lose her. “I really, truly mean it. It’s okay, Dakota.”
She wraps her arms around me and pulls me into a hug. “You’re all kinds of special, Bonnie. You know that? You don’t need to figure out what to do in life, because you’re damn near perfect as you are.”
I shakily smile against her shoulder. “If only that was enough.”
She pulls away and lifts my chin. “It should be. What did you say to me? ‘Relationships don’t define you; they only mold you’? Same goes for you. A job, a relationship, where you live—they don’t define you. It’s how you live your life, treat others, and take advantage of every moment presented to you.” She grips my cheek. “Like right now, after everything I said, you’re still here, showing up, letting me know that no matter what we say, nothing can tear us apart.”