Page 66 of Seaside Cowboy's Second Chance

Then he turned off the engine and waited. Skylar was going through some inner struggle, and he wished he could help her. But he couldn’t rush her. The previous Skylar couldn’t stop talking. The new Skylar could clam up fast.

Lord, whatever she’s going through, please help her.

No matter their past, or maybe because of it, she mattered to him. She mattered a lot. Then she turned to him, her eyes hollow once again.

He tensed. “What happened? And how can I help?”

“Any way your brother can find out if Wyatt has a tattoo on his left shoulder blade?”

O–okay. Although the request surprised him and he couldn’t imagine it was going to be easy, he nodded. “I’ll ask.” Then he leaned to her, the question in his mind slipping from his tongue. “What kind of tattoo?”

She visibly swallowed hard. “A spider. With a web. For sailors, the web signifies missing home. And yes, my fear of spiders wasn’t because of being bitten. It was because an image was connected so deeply with my trauma it sent me into panic. Even if it was irrational.”

“I’m sorry.” His chest tightened, the tension so thick in the air the humid stuff was hard to breathe. “A sailor? You mean that this person is...” He could guess it, but he couldn’t believe it.

“Yes.” She ducked her chin. “My father.”

“What?” Dallas’s whole body jerked as he flinched as if from a slap. “Are you sure?” His recollection of the man was blurry at best, but he needed to trust hers. And wasn’t her father presumed dead? For over a quarter of a century? He struggled as if a strong wind tried to knock him off his feet. “Could it just be someone with similar features?”

“I’m sure hedoesn’tlook much like my father.” She grimaced.

“Then why do you say...” He stared at her. She couldn’t see the tattoo in the photos because the guy’s shirt covered that area.

“A feeling, but there’s more.” She pointed at her forehead. “Do you see that?”

“I see a beautiful face, but what else am I looking at?” he asked carefully.

Her lips twitched in a hint of a smile, and some color returned to her cheeks. “Thank you, but I meant the birthmark. My father has the same birthmark in the same place. I might not remember many things about him now, but I remember that.”

He did his best to wrap his mind around this development.

How was this possible? Why hadn’t her father come back if he was alive? Didn’t even try to contact her? Not to mention it was a shocker he could be alive in the first place.

“But... but everyone assumed he died.” Including Dallas.

Her expression turned bitter. “No, he didn’t,” she spoke with more conviction than he’d expected.

What?

One could knock him out with a feather right now. If he felt like that, he could only imagine what this did to her. Without thinking, he drew her into his arms as much as the truck seats allowed and held her close. He meant the gesture to offer support, but soon blood surged in his veins. She fit in his arms perfectly even ifhedidn’t fit in her life.

His breathing went shallow, and he cherished the moment. He didn’t want to let her go. But after a few minutes of leaning into him, she eased out of his embrace. Just like he knew she would.

“I know this can’t be easy for you...” His voice trailed off as he studied her.

She didn’t seem to be glad her father might turn out to be alive. What he’d attributed to shock was something else. She looked frightened out of her mind. On guard, like a suppressed metal spring in an old couch, ready to uncoil if let go. And she’d mentioned trauma so deep the live embodiment of her father’s tattoo sent her into a panic.

“Youalreadyknew your father might be alive.” He should’ve said it as a question. Instead, it sounded like a statement. “Was it because you held onto hope? Because you needed him so badly?”

She shook her head, then sighed. “I might be able to tell you soon. But we need to take Breeze to her appointment. Let’s check this gas station first and drive to Grandma’s.”

Was she shutting him out again? No, then she’d have slipped away and gone to the vet clinic by herself. Instead, she’d said, “we.” It might be a small consolation, but it was something.

He hopped from his seat, jogged around to the passenger side, and opened the truck door for her. “Have you seen your father since he disappeared?”

“No.” She dashed toward the convenience store in an obvious hurry to get there. And in an even more obvious hurry to get away from the questions.

He stiffened as he followed and caught up. He’d better not prod more, or she’d clam up completely.

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