Page 11 of Every Single Wildflower
“Ivy!” She gasps.
I wiggle my fingers. “Hey Laik.”
Dakota taps the side of her truck. “Breakfast at the Mayson Jar. Meet us there.”
“But I have yoga before work.” Laiken’s face morphs into clear distress.
Laiken has always been the rule follower. The quiet one. The small notion of skipping a meaningless yoga class might cause her to go into cardiac arrest. She almost did when she found out she was pregnant with her adorable son Trace. She spiraled for days until she finally heard his heartbeat. The rest was history.
“Your ass is perfect, Red.” Dakota winks. “Chop chop.”
Laiken’s response is muffled by the sound of squealing tires and a blaring horn from the other side of the intersection.
When the window is rolled up, I can’t help but grin.I missed this.
“What?” Dakota reaches for the dial, cranking up the radio to an ungodly volume.
“Nothing.” I wave her off, tilting my head back to rest on the seat and decide I can do nothing but let George Strait lead us to breakfast.
As expected, when the three of us enter the Mayson Jar, all heads turn. A few jaws drop, and a couple of eyes give me a bewildered look of pity.
“Ivy Mayson.” Fern taps her red press on nails against the hostess stand. “It’s been a while. Sorry to hear about the fire.”
I nod, giving her a similar version a of a smile. “Thanks Fern.”
She picks up a few menus. “I heard the fire department spent all night out there. Took the team from two towns over to help get it under control.”
“Yeah. I don’t know many details yet. I got in late last night.”
We take a seat at a corner table, the one that sits beneath a large stuffed buffalo.
"How's that little cowboy of yours?" Fern asks Laiken.
“Growing like a weed. I can’t believe he just turned six.” She grins as she takes a menu into her hands.
Fern’s gaze then lands on Dakota, her eyes narrowing. “Ms. Sterling.”
She leaves the table while Dakota tosses a smile and the bird to her back.
“Have I told y’all lately how much I hate my last name?” She mutters.
Her tone is full of sarcasm, but it doesn’t hide the deep set hurt in her eyes. Dakota didn’t exactly grow up with an ideal family. Her being born into a name that holds a bad reputation in this town hasn’t done her any favors. Regardless of her severing ties with her father who’s currently serving a ten-year sentence in the Cove County Prison, people just assume the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
“Your dad doing ok?” Laiken leads the conversation away from Dakota’s unconventional family. Which judging by the look on her face, she’s thankful for.
“He’s alive. We are waiting on the results from a second CT scan. Me and Cooper left about midnight. I planned to grab mom some essentials before I go back to get the update.”
“It was chaos,” Dakota says. “When Clyde was freaking out, I knew it was bad. That man is usually as slow as molasses.”
“He’s pushing seventy,” Laiken nudges her. “Give the man a break.”
Dakota rolls her eyes. “The horses were terrified. Thank God, it didn’t make it to that side of the property, but they knew something was off.” She shakes her head. “I tried to get the hose on the house when I realized the fire had hit the porch, but your brother flipped shit.”
“He was right to.” I give her a pointed look.
“I was just trying to help. Cooper literally hauled me to the apartment and made me stay inside. He was all; she lowers her voice to mock him. “Sit your ass in this chair and don’t you fucking move, Kota.”
Laiken and I share a look, the same one we’ve shared for years.
