Page 14 of Stay Wild Darlin’

The idea of moving back to Texas should’ve made me nauseous. The thought of setting foot anywhere near Dallas—where my parents still lived, where I’d spent my entire childhood suffocating under their expectations—should have sent me into a spiral.

Lindley wasn’t Dallas. It wasn’t my hometown. It was a tiny town on the outskirts, the kind of place I’d driven past without a second thought. It wasn’t going back. It was something else entirely.

I sighed and swiped out of the app, my finger hovering over my texts. The number Fable had given me at the bar a month ago was still sitting there, untouched. I had no clue if she even remembered me, or if she’d already found someone else. But what did I have to lose?

I took a deep breath and started typing.

Hey Fable, this is Poppy from Seattle. I was wondering if you still had that job available—the nannying one?

I hit Send before I could talk myself out of it.

It was a long shot. A really long shot. But . . . maybe this was the universe giving me a sign.

My phone barely had time to dim before three little dots popped up at the bottom of the screen.

YES! HELP US!

I blinked and then broke out into a laugh.

Well, shit. That was easy.

I leaned back into the couch, still grinning. Maybe this whole thing wouldn’t be the disaster I thought it would be. Hell, maybe Fable and I would even be friends.

8

Poppy

As much as I wanted to be the person who had her shit together, who could roll into a new town without any loose ends, the reality was that I was in a rideshare, heading straight toward my parents’ house for the first time in almost five years. I sold my car and furniture for my plane ticket here, so I had no other option except to ask my parents for a car.

There was the healed part of me—the part that had made peace with never needing anything from them again—that wanted to take a rideshare straight to Lindley. The unhealed part? The version of myself that still hoped, deep down, that they’d see me, that they’d give a damn? She won.

That was why I was staring out at the familiar streets of Dallas, my stomach twisted in knots.

I wasn’t asking for money. I wasn’t moving home with my tail tucked between my legs. I needed a car—something to keep me from being trapped in the middle of nowhere, dependent on someone else’s schedule. Somehow my hands wouldn’t stop sweating as we pulled onto the long, winding street that led to my parents’ house.

I stepped out of the rideshare, thanked the driver, and turned to face the house I’d grown up in. It looked exactly the same—grand, polished, and utterly unwelcoming.

Britton, the butler, opened the door before I even reached it, his expression unreadable as always.

“Welcome, Ms. Poppy,” he said with a polite nod.

A small, genuine smile tugged at my lips. “It’s nice to see you again. Are my parents home?”

Britton dipped his head. “Your father is at work, but your mother is in the sitting room.”

I exhaled slowly, nodding in thanks as I stepped inside, letting the familiar scent of lemon polish and fresh flowers wash over me. Nothing ever changed here.

After dropping my bags near the entryway, I made my way toward the sitting room, stopping briefly in front of a mirror. I smoothed my hair back and adjusted the long maxi skirt and denim vest I’d changed into before getting off the plane.

This is fine. It’s a conversation.

With one final breath, I pushed open the door.

My mother sat perfectly poised on the floral-upholstered couch, a teacup in one hand, a magazine in the other. She didn’t glance up when I entered.

“You didn’t call,” she said smoothly, flipping a page.

Here we go.