Page 91 of Homebound

“I slept with her, Cruz.”

“Hell yeah!” he erupts on the phone screen, startling me enough that I nearly drop my razor in the bathroom sink. “I knew she couldn’t resist a shirtless Patty Daddy.”

He wiggles his dark brows, and his brown eyes brighten.

“Yeah, thanks for the top-tier advice.” I huff a laugh, the razor gliding precariously close to my skin. “Except now, every time she steps into the arena in those fringe chaps, my dick gets rock-hard, and I can’t focus on anything but her.”

I almost nick my throat, thinking of those chaps, as I shave my neck beard. Last night, Dakota kept nuzzling up against my scruff. I think she likes it, so I’m leaving the stubble along my jaw and cleaning up the edges.

“So, things have been good with her?” he asks on speakerphone, his deep voice reverberating against the bathroom tiles.

Good is an understatement. She can’t keep her hands off me, and I’ve never been this happy. Nothing could bring me down right now. “Things have been incredible. Going back to Nashville is gonna be tough, though.”

His brown eyes turn down, and I’m tempted to take back my words at the sad look on his face. “But I’m in Nashville.”

My stomach drops, but I need to come out and say it. Cruz is my boy, so he deserves my honesty.

“I’m thinking I might put in for a transfer,” I blurt to get it over with. “Austin’s getting an NHL team, and it’d be nice to move back home.”

I wait, carefully analyzing him. Cruz goes silent for a second and then throws his head back onto the pillow on the screen. “Why the fuck is everyone leaving? Tremblay first and now you? I’ve barely spoken to him since he moved to Argentina, and I don’t want to lose you too.”

Guilt slithers beneath my skin. “Aw, come on, Micah. Don’t do this to me.”

He jams his finger at me on the screen. “No. No first-naming me. I want to know why.”

“It feels like home for me,” I explain, setting down the razor. “I love it down here, man. I’ve got family here. The schools are great, and I want to be with Dakota. I can’t leave her.”

Cruz stares at me through the phone, and then heaves a sigh. “Fine. If you need to transfer, then do it, but don’t be surprised when I follow your ass down to Texas.”

My brows soar. “You’d follow me here? Really?”

“If you or Tremblay jumped off a bridge, I’d jump,” he admits, and that’s Micah Cruz, loyal to a fault. “You do know it’s hot as shit down there though, right?”

“Only in August and September, and even then, you just find a lake, crack open a beer, and fall asleep on a floatie in the water. I got the world’s worst sunburn from doing that one summer. My entire chest was peeling off.”

“You’re really selling me on the whole Texas thing,” he deadpans.

“Wyatt!”

Dakota’s wild shriek slices through the quiet of the barn, sending a jolt of panic straight through me.

“I have to go.” I drop my phone, our conversation forgotten, and the razor follows close behind.

I rush out from the bathroom with shaving cream still smeared on half my face, my towel hastily wrapped around me, trying not to imagine the worst-case scenario.

I burst into the living room, and my eyes immediately dart to her. “What?” I panic, my heart throbbing in that way it only does around her. “Is Vi okay? Are you okay?”

I scan Dakota’s body for injuries, blood, something terrible, but she’s standing by the stone fireplace in nothing but a thin white tank (that shows her nipples) and boxers (that look a lot like… mine?). Damn, I like seeing her in my clothes. But then, I notice Tuna wagging her black tail and the look of radiant joy on Dakota’s face.

Her grin is so blinding I blink to make sure she’s real.

“Wyatt,” she yells again, pointing at something in the living room. “Stop staring at me and look at your girl!”

My gaze follows the direction of her outstretched arm, and there, right there, on her ABC mat—holy shit—there’s my baby girl, wobbling on her tiny feet like a drunk toddler staggering her way toward me. My heart vaults from my stomach to my throat.

She’s walking.

My little girl’s finally walking.