Page 29 of Every Single Vow
“Where’s Kota?" I call out to Laiken.
She frowns. “I don’t know. I called her three times. She never came outside. I figured maybe she hitched a ride with someone else.”
My sister glances up at me, her eyes unsure as Brady, her boyfriend tosses an arm over her shoulder.
“She’s probably just being Dakota. Running around here on someone’s horse.” He chuckles.
Could be. Dakota had a way with horses. Since the first time she rode one at the ranch, you couldn’t keep her off of one.
I fish out my cell, dialing her number as they announce the next rider. It rings until I get her voicemail. I curse under my breath, but thumb over to her contact and click on her location. Her asshole father wouldn’t get her a phone, so I talked to my parents about adding another line. It was only fifteen dollars a month, so I pay for it out of my paycheck I get from working at the ranch each week. I wanted her to have a way to reach me when shit got bad. Billy Sterling was a mean drunk, and a low class criminal who already had one too many DUI’s, and even an assault charge. She’s called me more than once to pick her up when he was on one of his benders and for some reason, something in my gut wasn’t sitting right. Because the marker on my maps indicated where she was. Mayson Ridge Mobile Home Park.
“I’ll be back.” I push to my feet.
“Where you going?” Ryder asks, his eyes focused on the horse bucking toward the fence line.
“Something is off. Going to get Kota,” I say before shoving my phone back in my pocket.
Ryder glances up at me, his expression turning to stone. “Need me to come?”
I shake my head. “That’s ok, I got her.”
All of my family is aware of her situation, and she’s quickly becoming not just my best friend, but a part of the family.
Hurrying down the sea of bleachers filled with cowboy hats and teenagers sneaking vodka in their Styrofoam cups, I make a beeline for my truck then peel out of the rodeo grounds, unease settling in my chest.
When I pull up to the trailer with the warping paint and rotted skirting, I slam my truck in park and jump out. I notice Billy’struck is gone and part of me is relieved because I’ve come close to beating his ass more than once, and tonight, I’m not sure I can hold back any longer. I hate this feeling of anxiety. The fear he’s finally crossed a line. My fist pounds on the door, my voice loud as I holler for Dakota. After knocking once more, I reach for the knob, twisting it easily before I step inside. The stench of smoke hits me first, the thick fog causing my eyes to burn. Empty beer cans are scattered across the living room, along with three different ashtrays filled to the brim with old buds of cigarettes. I’ve never been inside before, and the sheer filth has me grinding my molars.
“Kota,” I call.
The stale atmosphere has me cracking my neck, my hands flexing as I stride through the trailer, strategically moving around the trash and dirty piles of clothes. There’s a room at the end of the hall, the light dimly shining from beneath the crack of the door.
“Birdie,” I call, opening the door with caution.
The room is the only one in the house free of smoke. It smells like spice and leather, a familiar scent that I know is my cologne. A lone bottle sits on the window sill, one she must have taken from my room.
My heart aches.
Fuck, Kota.
The room is spotless. A twin mattress sits flush on the faded green carpet, made up with two small, yellow pillows. And the bear. The one that I won for her at our first carnival. Three tubs line the back wall, along with two pairs of boots.
The ones I bought her.
My teeth grit as anger rises. She doesn’t even have a fucking bed or dresser.
I’m about to walk back out into the hallway, when I hear a small sound coming from the closet in the corner. My feet movequick, my boots heavy as I cross the room before opening the broken door with a crack zigzagging right down the middle. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.
A lump lodges in my throat as misty blue eyes meet mine. They shine with tears, along with a nasty bruise forming under her left eye. Dried blood scatters across her lip, the corner busted as she sits curled up in a ball in the floor of the closet.
Motherfucker.
“Coop,” she sobs out.
Dropping to my knees, I reach out my arms, inviting her into my safety. She climbs up from the floor, her arms wrapping around my neck as she sobs into my shoulder.
Fire ignites in my veins, anger and rage boiling as she squeezes me tighter.
“Sshhh. I’m here,” I whisper, my hold strong. “I’m so sorry, Kota. I’m here.”
