Page 31 of Wildest Dreams

Orla turns and takes Lainey from her chair and soothes her, bouncing her gently and walking her out to the front porch to look at the leaves on the trees dancing in the soft summer breeze.

My bottom lip trembles as I walk over to the sink, turning the faucet and rinsing out the dirty cloth. Folding, I hang it over the side of the butler sink then press my hands flat to the surface either side, head hung low as I cry quietly before I am caught.

Is it guilt? All-consuming guilt because I am lying to Orla ad Jorge? They've been so good to me; they've been more of a family to me than my own. I mean, that wasn't hard. My mom died, my kid sister died, and my dad beat me black and blue before I left town.

But even that came with its own problems.

Young girl looking for an escape.

Powerful male promising her a better life.

I'll let you connect the dots.

I hear the sound of heavy boots, my skin prickling, and I know it's Tripp. Sniffling, I lift my hand and run my finger under both of my eyes to wipe the stray tears away.

“Dixie?” his voice is soft and warm, and I hate that. I spin around, forcing a fake smile upon my lips as I look at him.

“Yeah?” my back is pressed against the sink, fingers curled around the edge of the worksurface.

His eyes roam over me quickly and I let my head drop. The sound of his footsteps become closer and my heart stutters in my chest.

Toe to toe with me, his hand slips from his jean pocket and grips my chin softly, tilting my head back to look at him.

His brown eyes bounce between mine, his pupils dilating slightly, the once harsh frown lines that were dug into his forehead smooth out as worry paints across his handsome face.

“Who upset you?” he asks me, letting his hand fall from my chin.

“No one,” and it's the truth. No one did upset me.

“Then why are you crying?” he steps back a little and I miss how close he was to me.

“Hormones.”

He hangs on my words a little longer before he gives me a sharp nod.

He is dirty. Hands covered in mud, boots thick with it too. His jeans have hand marks rubbed into the thighs and his face has a golden glow to it from the sun.

“I saw mom out front with Lainey, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

The breath catches at the back of my throat, and I swallow the burning lump down. Giving him a soft nod, he turns and trudges mud back through the kitchen then kicks his boots off at the door.

“I'll clean this up,” I call out, not sure why I offered.

He glances at me as he walks towards the stairs, lips part as if he is about to say something, but he doesn’t. He just continues upstairs, and I jump when I hear the bedroom door slam shut.

Moving towards the cupboard, I grab the broom and begin to sweep the dry mud clumps off the floor, then run the damp mop over.

I press the coffee machine on and sit at the table, the house is quiet and for the first time in a long time, I can hear my thoughts.

They're not as heavy or messy as they once were.

I have a lot of shit to unpack, but I am hoping whilst I am here, I can figure out what I need to do next.

And, if I decide to stay, I need a job.

The Rivera's have been far too kind to me the last few days and I can't keep taking from them. I've also got to remember that when they find out my connection with Clay, I’ll no doubt be kicked out to the dusty road.

They're not going to want me or Lainey here.

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