Page 4 of Far from Destined

Only she wasn’t here. And even if she were, she’d likely take one look at me and run, just like she always did.

“Macon?” a familiar voice asked. I froze, my whole body snapping to attention, my throat going dry.

I looked up to see her. Her dark hair was pulled away from her face in a messy bun, her creamy complexion rosy after a long day, her thick black glasses perched on the tip of her nose as if she had been reading and hadn’t wanted to bother with her contacts. The fact that I knew she wore contacts most of the time should probably worry me, but it didn’t.

Because I was a masochist when it came to Dakota, the woman I couldn’t have, the female who wanted nothing to do with me. She had made it very clear that she didn’t want me in her life, and yet, all I did was want more.

Because I was a fucking loser.

“Hey, Nate’s getting me some coffee.”

She studied my face as if waiting for me to say more. “Okay, you want to tell me what happened?”

“Nothing,” I lied.

“You have blood on your knuckles and a bruise on your jaw. What happened? Who hurt you?”

I heard the fear in her voice and wanted to kick myself. I shouldn’t have come here, even on the off chance that she would be here. It didn’t matter that I wanted to see her.

Because I knew she was running from something. Given what had happened to our friends, and what she never spoke about when it came to her past, seeing me bruised would only bring back the horror of what neither of us wanted to talk about.

I was going to hell, and it was my own damn fault.

“Nothing. Just a long day.”

“At work? You’re saying a dog or a cat did this?”

“I do work with large animals sometimes if I have to go out to a farm and one of the other vets I know needs help.” It wasn’t a lie, but not the truth today.

“So, a cow did this, then?” she asked, and I shook my head.

“I’m fine, Dakota. Don’t even need stitches.”

“And because you’re a vet, you can tell that?” she asked.

“Yes, I guess that’s a good reason for me to know,” I said, knowing I sounded like an asshole.

She shook her head, her glasses falling down her nose. I wanted to reach out and move them back. I didn’t.

“What the hell, Macon? Who did this to you?”

“Nobody. I said I’m fine. Let’s not talk about it.”

She studied my face for a long moment before shaking her head, disappointment plain. “Why are you fighting?” she asked, and I wanted to curse.

“Dakota.”

“No, I see your knuckles. You’ve clearly hit someone. And you want to hang out with Joshua?” she asked, her voice sharp even as she kept it quiet so nobody else could hear.

“Dakota.” I needed to fix this. Somehow, I had to remedy this.

“No. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you better stay away from my son. And me.” Then she turned on her heel and went back to the office, leaving me sitting there, wondering what the fuck was wrong with me.

Nate came back with two to-go cups, a sad expression on his face.

“I honestly didn’t know she would be here.”

“It’s fine.”