Tinsel (Lark Cove #4)(79)

My eyes flooded, my heart shattering for Dakota. “What can I do?”

“Feel like taking a trip to Montana?”

The smart answer was no. I was still hurt and angry at Dakota. We were broken.

But I loved him. With every beat of my heart, I loved him.

“I’ll be there tomorrow.”





“What are you doing here?” Thea asked as I walked in the back door of the bar.

“I need to work.”

“Dakota—”

I held up a hand. “I need to work.”

She opened her mouth to protest again but closed it with a nod. “Okay.”

“Thanks.”

She gave me a sad smile. “I’ve got some office stuff to do today. I’m here if you need me.”

“I’m fine.”

She knew I was lying. But she kept quiet as she walked over, squeezed my arm for a long moment, then slipped past me and down the hallway toward her office.

I walked over to the sink, washed my hands and emptied the dishwasher. Thea had already done the morning tasks to get the place opened, so I found some cleaning supplies and decided the liquor shelves all needed a thorough dusting, even though I’d done it last week.

Later, I’d empty and clean out all of the drawers and cabinets. Then I’d dust all of the frames along the walls. I didn’t care what kind of work had to be done, I’d invent tasks if needed. I just wanted to stay busy. I wanted to stay away from home.

Maybe then I’d make it through this.

Maybe.

I woke up this morning completely lost. Dad and I hadn’t been close lately, but he’d been an anchor. A constant. Despite the distance, I knew he was there.

Now he was gone.

One phone call six days ago and I was set adrift.

Mom called to tell me about Dad’s heart attack, begging me to come straight home. I went, in shock. I didn’t think to call anyone, Xavier included. It took me over twenty-four hours to just comprehend what happened.

My dad died.

I’d lost him. And I was close to losing Mom and my sisters too. They were furious at me because I thought Xavier deserved to be at his brother’s funeral.

But they wanted to keep him in the dark. As I held Mom’s hand at the funeral home, listening to her arrange the services for Dad, she cried and pleaded for me to keep Dad’s death from Xavier. How fucked up was that?

How fucked up was it that I agreed?

Mom didn’t want to make the funeral about Xavier’s appearance. She told me there were too many emotions as it was. It would be easier that way. It was what Dad would have wanted. Rozene and Koko helped shove that guilt down my throat.

So I went along with it . . . until the day before the funeral.

I drove back to Lark Cove, went straight to the cottage and told Xavier about Dad’s heart attack.

Xavier and Hazel were two of the first to arrive at Dad’s graveside. If looks could kill, Mom, Rozene and Koko would have put me six feet under beside Dad.

I did my best to help Mom and my sisters through the funeral service, as much as they’d let me. I shook hands and made small talk with neighbors and distant relatives. I didn’t outwardly cringe when not two but three members of the tribal council asked if I’d be coming home to run for Dad’s seat.

I was busy, too busy, to comprehend the earth’s shift under my feet. But then I came home, where there were no distractions or grieving family members to comfort, and got hit with the magnitude of the earthquake.

My dad died.

I wanted to scream until my lungs bled, just something to release some of this pain from my chest.

My dad died.

The last time I saw him was at the hospital after Koko had her baby. We had shallow phone calls since, none lasting more than two minutes. They were mostly full of awkward silence.

What was the last thing I said to him on the phone? What was the last thing I said that day in the hospital? I’d been trying to remember for days, but I couldn’t recall the words. All I knew was they’d been said in anger and frustration.

I couldn’t take them back. I couldn’t right the wrongs between us.

Because the clock had stopped.

Because my dad had died.

I pulled another bottle off the shelf, revealing a patch of mirror. My eyes caught themselves in the reflection. They were bloodshot and glassy. The dark circles underneath hung nearly to my cheekbones.

I hadn’t slept in days. There was too much on my mind for sleep. There were too many decisions to make.

Come home.

After everyone went home from the funeral and my sisters retreated to their homes to cuddle with their husbands and children, I went with Mom. We sat at the dining room table, cloaked in grief, and she said, “Come home.”

It hadn’t been a suggestion or a plea. It had been an order. An ultimatum.

The first thing that popped into my mind was that if I moved back to Browning, I wouldn’t be in Lark Cove to catch a glimpse of Sofia if she ever came to visit.

Even though our last phone call had been a definite end, my broken heart held fast to a shred of hope.

With every passing second, it faded. I wouldn’t be here the next time Sofia Kendrick came to visit. I’d be back on the reservation. If I didn’t want to drive my mom and sisters further away, I had to move home.

I took down five more bottles, dusting the scotch section for probably the last time. I hated leaving Jackson and Thea in the lurch, but what choice did I have?