Page 2 of These Reckless Hearts

He takes a moment to reply, and I have this image in my head of him fretting over what to say. It’s kind of cute, actually. Or would be, you know, if he hadn’t killed the man I knew as my father. “Stone’s on his way to the hospital, and I wanted to know if I’m allowed to come too?”

Now that’s interesting. Cole’s not the type to ask permission.

“There are things I have to tell you, Dakota,” he reminds me, not shying away from the information he started to give me when we were at Jacobs mansion.

I close my eyes as if doing so will ward off everything that’s happened. I’m not that lucky, though, because when I open them back up, I’m still in a stark hospital room with the beeping machine like an alarm for my brain that tells me with each high-pitched sound that I am now fatherless. Or I guess I always was? I actually don’t know. Who is my real father? Or mother? Was my actual mother my mother? Or was that a lie, too?

Pain lashes at my heart like a stinging whip, and even though Cole has the answers I need to all of these questions, I’m not ready to hear them yet. I need time to digest what the fuck is happening before I jump down a rabbit hole of the life I should’ve had. “I need some time,” I choke out.

“Understandable.” Silence engulfs us. The only thing I hear is his steady breathing on the other end of the line.

I chew on my lip. “Are you okay?” I hedge. “You were shot?”

“Don’t worry about me.” After a few moments of silence, he murmurs, “Don’t think too badly of me, baby girl.” Then, he hangs up.

I pull the phone away from my ear.Call Endeddisplays on the screen before it vanishes, and Wyatt’s screensaver moves into view. It’s a picture of me I didn’t know he’d taken. I’m sitting on the beautiful horse I rode the day we went for a trail ride, staring out at the river with the mountains as a backdrop. The sun is streaming in behind me, lighting up my brown curls in a crown of gold.

“I couldn’t not take that picture,” Wyatt remarks. His fingers brush the screen where there’s a smile on my face. “You looked absolutely stunning.”

I don’t have many pictures of me. Barely any, actually. My father—I mentally clear my throat.Clark—wasn’t the type to shell out money for school pictures, so the only ones I have are from newspaper clippings about the Wilder treasure. Seeing myself lit up in these bright colors, it appears as if I’m on top of the world, staring out over my kingdom. A queen. Right now, I don’t feel any of that but to know I have it in me makes me sit up in Wyatt’s lap. “It’s really pretty,” I confess before finding the camera icon.

I’ve seen people take selfies, but in the short amount of time I’ve had a phone, I haven’t tried it. I press the camera, and a view of the blanket on my lap appears on the screen. I start hitting random icons until I see myself. It’s a really unflattering view, staring in concentration at the phone.

Also, I look a mess. Smears of dirt and dried blood mar my face and shirt. Instead of fretting over my appearance, I pick the phone up and center Wyatt and I on the screen. I smile, and he does the same, reaching up to hit the shutter button. Then, I turn my head and kiss Wyatt’s cheek while he hits the button again.There, I think to myself.At least now there are three colored pictures of me out in the world.

“You’ll have to send me those,” Lucas tells us from the bed. “And when I get better, I want selfies with Wild Girl, too.”

“Too bad,” Wyatt teases. “Selfies are now a me and Tits thing. You can suck it.”

Lucas lifts his hand to flip Wyatt off, and I laugh for the first time since finding out that my dead dad isn’t really my dad. I sober up in an instant. If it weren’t for Lucas, Wyatt, and Stone, I’d literally have no one right now. That’s a bitter pill to swallow, but on the other hand, having them has turned out to be the highlight of my life.

The door clicks open, and Wyatt wraps his arms around me, preparing for a medical visit, but we turn to find Stone striding in instead. He’s changed out of his tux and is wearing a dark blue polo and light khakis. He bumps fists with Wyatt, drags his thin-lipped gaze over me, then immediately moves toward Lucas. He bends over, wrapping his arms around his friend. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

Lucas pats his back. “I know, man. We’re good.” They embrace for another minute before Lucas moves the head of the bed into a sitting position and Stone takes a seat on the edge facing Wyatt and me.

“Well, I don’t see a ring on your finger, so I’m guessing you’re not married?” Wyatt quizzes.

“Nope. Wrong girl.” Stone meets my stare, his gray-blue eyes bright in the stark lights of the hospital room.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Lucas comments, shifting his weight so he can face us. He’s adorable in his baby blue hospital gown. My heart starts to melt but then he hisses and it breaks all over again. The image of him struggling on that wire will haunt me forever. I’ve told this boy that I love him, and I almost lost him. Just like everyone else.

Wyatt breaks the drawn-out silence by updating Stone on what happened in the mountains. As predicted, Stone’s going to send the traps off to get tested for prints and anything else they might be able to tell us about who set them. Though we’re positive it’s someone Lance hired, it would be better knowing exactly who we’re dealing with because we all agree that Lance only pushes paper around his desk and makes phone calls. He’s not the one out there doing the shit that gets people hurt.

After that part of the story is over, it’s my turn to talk. With Wyatt’s arms fully surrounding me, I recount what happened at Jacobs mansion.

Lucas and Wyatt are speechless when I finish. I’m not sure which part shocked them more: the fact that I killed Marissa’s father or the fact that Cole killed my father or possibly the part about my dad not being my dad. It’s a lot to take in, and as the silence lengthens, I feel justified in the emotional torrent I’ve been in since it happened.

Wyatt leans close to my ear, lips brushing my skin. “You know it doesn’t matter, right? Family or no family, you’re still you. Names are just names. They don’t represent who we truly are inside. You’re the same girl who walked into that wedding. Never doubt that.”

Of course Wyatt would be the first to pinpoint what’s going on in my head. We both have fucked up families.

“You’ll get through this,” he reassures me.

The beeping machine softens in my head, no longer taunting me with the truth about my dad. It’s a reminder that I’m still living, and despite who I really am and where I might have come from, I’m still Dakota. The me inside is still very much me, and like Wyatt said, no one can take that away.

2

Two days later, I walk next to Lucas’ wheelchair as a nurse pushes him down sterile hospital corridors toward freedom. Stone and Wyatt are waiting for us out front. Through the automatic glass doors, I watch the sun stream down on the silver Audi, making the paint sparkle in glittering waves.

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