Dakota blows out a breath, gaze on a bright-yellow jalopy. “Dad’s here.” I swallow. “Fuck.” Facing my father is not something I’m ready to do. Dakota pulls into the driveway. Wrapping her arm around the seatback, she twists to look at me. “You ready?” “No.” I make a face. “Don’t make me live with a boy, Dakota.” She laughs. “You and Wyatt will be okay. And if you’re not, you call me. You’re priority.” No way in hell. They have a newborn and a bakery. It’s bad enough Wyatt’s been saddled with babysitting me. I left Resurrection so he didn’t have to worry about me. Now? Fat chance of that.
