Page 13 of Endgame

I don’t know the extent of that pain, but it seems detrimental and likely to be the reason for her cold exterior. Her secret smile at the apartment leads me to believe that a soft heart lives in there somewhere.

I can tell Navy chose wisely in picking her as her best friend.

“Take a left at the stop sign; my apartment is around thecorner.” Dakota cuts off my analyzing, catching me in my thoughts.

I have so many questions.But again, none of my business. I’m just intrigued by her.

“You got it.”

Since leaving the apartment, I’ve been silently observing her, hoping she doesn’t break. I’ve been around my fair share of women, and while I’d never consider being emotional a bad thing, I know it helps to process it with someone you care about.

Dakota and I don’t have that kind of relationship, so I can’t help but be a little nervous at the off chance I have to console her.

I can’t pinpoint it, but something about her stands out to me more than usual. It could be the fact that I know she’s my sister’s best friend and Navy cares about her immensely. But the other part of me feels strangely protective of her and wants to take away her pain.

I gathered everything I needed to know about Trevor and the damage he’s caused. Still, she doesn’t seem invested in him enough to let his dismissal and disinterest in her trigger her emotional lever this badly.

The woman I picked up from the DDS was hurting long before the phone call that shifted her afternoon.

Lucky for me, she looks surprisingly relaxed, despite the chapter she closed.

It’s apparent she’s far from enjoying my company, but a different side of her that you’d have to be intentional about noticing seems at peace. Maybe not necessarily with me, but by being one with the outdoors. The wind blows through her shiny hair, putting me in a stupor as I try not to let her catch me staring. I remind myself as we approach her apartment complex that I should offer to help her carry up her things.

“I can help you bring these boxes up. It’s no trouble at all.”

I love how unpredictable she seems. It’s the same feeling I get when I’m up at bat, the bases are loaded with two outs on the board, and I’m about to face whatever threatening pitch the opposing team is plotting. That’s the pivotal moment in a game. Connect with the pitch, and we’re golden; in the best case, the runner advances, and we get the runs-batted-in. The worst possibility is we miss the pitch and lose the potential runs we worked our asses off to get.

Losing isn't an option.

Kind of like leaving here without taking some of the load off her shoulders isn’t an option. No one should have to do difficult things like this alone.

“I think I can manage.”

Does she not realize these boxes combined likely weigh more than she does?

My Jeep rolls to a stop in front of her apartment building, a touch of silence occupying the space between us.

After unbuckling her seat belt, Dakota rushes to gather her things, notably ready to flee. At least, that’s what it seems like with the rate at which she’s gathering her purse and getting her keys into her hand. “Woman, let me help.”

That stops her mid-rush.

Before she can thank me, which I know is coming, I hurl myself out of the truck and circle the front towards her side. Quickly opening the passenger door, I stand back and wait for her to exit before circling to the tailgate to open the door and start unloading her boxes.

There’s not much.

“I said I can handle it, Callaway. You’ve already helped me enough.”

“And I’m going to do it again. You have a tough time accepting help, Dakota?”

I can tell she’s not used to having anyone help her. Is Navy all she has?

Her head drops as she circles the side of the Jeep, meeting me where I deliver the boxes. “Just forget it.”

As I step close to her, I can’t help myself, her smell invading my space. I chose to do whatever I can to lighten up her mood without making her feel bad about being upset. I reach out to tap the bottom of her dropped chin gently enough to get her attention, causing her to lift her pretty face to lock with mine.

She needs to hear me when I say this, “Accepting help doesn’t make you weak; it makes you fucking strong.”

All the hurt she’s hiding floods to the surface. Yet, the tears hold back.

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