“Yes, ma’am. I just need to talk to her.”

Elaine started to walk away. “If I know our Dakota, one conversation will not fix what drove her here.”

Mr. Laurens shrugged. “She always was our stubborn one. Hard to sway her when she has her mind on something.”

Stubborn or not, Dakota would just have to get used to him. Now that he’d found her, he wasn’t going anywhere.

Chapter Seventeen

Walt realized two things during the time he waited for Dakota to return. First, from his name to his profession, Mr. and Mrs. Laurens knew nothing about him. Second, talking to strangers and doing his best to avoid revealing anything personal was impossible.

“So, Mr. Eddy, what is it you do for a living?” Mr. Laurens asked.

“Dakota hasn’t told you?”

Pursed lips and scowl intact, Mrs. Laurens offered a half a smile, half a scowl that might prove to be a lethal weapon in this country. “You don’t have a job.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’m employed, Mrs. Laurens.”

They both turned . . . said nothing.

“I’m a doctor.”

Mrs. Laurens turned away with a huff. “If you’re going to lie, at least make it believable.”

Walt glanced at his frame. He wore jeans . . . a short-sleeved shirt. He hadn’t shaved, which probably threw Dakota’s parents off. He hadn’t slept much in the days since he’d last seen Dakota.

“We drink sweet tea in the South.” Mrs. Laurens set a glass of iced tea in front of him, and turned away.

“Thank you.” He took a sip, did his best not to show the effect of the sugar as it hit his palate. “Refreshing.”

A snort from across the table came from Mr. Laurens.

“Have you ever been to South Carolina, Mr. Eddy?”

“No. This is my first time.”

“First time? You plan on returning?”

Walt held his tongue, then said, “If I can convince your daughter to give me a second chance, then yes.”

Mr. Laurens swept him with his eyes. “While I find it admirable that you’ve managed to fly here to see our Dakota, I certainly hope it’s not to disappoint her twice.”

“That’s not my plan.”

Mrs. Laurens huffed, turned on her heel, and moved into the kitchen.

Walt ran a tired hand through his hair.

Mr. Laurens laughed. As in actually laughed and Walt looked at him through spread fingers.

He heard the front door open and jumped to his feet.

Mrs. Laurens walked in front of him, lifted an index finger in warning that kept Walt from moving.

He gave her two seconds and then rounded the corner.

His gaze started low . . . she wore flat shoes, slacks, and a soft sweater that reminded him of the blood-soaked one from the ER. Her hair was caught halfway up in a clip, her cheeks pale . . . beautiful. Her eyes found his and she sucked a large breath into her nose.

“Is that him?” he heard the woman with her ask.

Then Dakota turned to bolt.

Walt ran, jumped over a cat that came from nowhere, and pushed in front her.

“Dakota, please.”

Her hand was already on the door, her breath came fast. “Go home, Walt.”

“I can’t. Not until you listen to me.”

“I-I’m . . .”

He took a chance, placed both hands on the sides of her face so she wouldn’t look anywhere but at him. “I messed up, Dakota.”

She wasn’t pushing away so Walt continued to pour out his thoughts. “There was this woman . . .”

He heard someone in the room gasp.

“She looked exactly like you. She was thrown from a car. I tried. We all tried but she didn’t make it. I can’t tell you how often I look into the eyes of a patient or a family member and cringe. I kept asking myself if I could handle if it was you? Could I handle losing you?”

Dakota started to tremble. “So you let go?”

“I couldn’t function, Dakota. I thought if maybe we slowed down I could deal better.”

She shook out of his hold. “You stopped retuning my calls. That isn’t slowing down.”

Behind Dakota, he noticed her parents watching, the woman she came in with stood close by.

“I screwed up.”

She met his eyes. “You more than screwed up, Doc.”

“I know.”

She placed a hand to her head, reminding him instantly of her high blood pressure . . . of their baby. “You should sit down.”

Her hand fell, her eyes snapped to his. “Don’t . . .” she started one sentence, stopped, and glared. “You should leave.” She moved to the door, grasped it.

He shoved a hand in front of it.

“I think you should leave, Mr. Eddy.” Mr. Laurens moved to his daughter’s side.

Walt never played the doctor card . . . but he did now. “That’s Dr. Eddy, Mr. Laurens.” Walt placed his gaze squarely on Dakota. “I care too much for your daughter to walk away when she’s this upset.” He let his eyes move from hers down her frame to her flat stomach.

Her hand fell from the door, her face went stone white. “Who told you?”

Her family lurked over her. Who knew eye-shooting daggers could wound him? “Talk to me, Dakota . . . without an audience.”

Even though the door to the study was closed, Dakota knew someone, somewhere, was listening. She forced several deep breaths and slowed her speeding pulse. Walt found her, and he knew.