Page 146 of Stay Wild Darlin’

“I took money from the championship bonus, and I put a full year’s worth of your salary into an account with your name on it. I can’t touch it. You don’t have to ask me for a thing.”

I stared down at the paper, my hand suddenly heavier with it than it should’ve been.

“You can save it, spend it later, paint my whole house green, or use it for whatever you need. It’s not about control. It’s about you never having to feel like you gave something up to be with me.” His eyes didn’t waver. “I don’t want you to feel trapped, but I’m also not gonna pretend I don’t want you here every single day.” He stepped even closer, hands sliding around my waist. “You’re not my nanny anymore. You’re my partner. Darlin’, you’re not going anywhere.”

I looked down at the paper in my hands. The account. The gesture. The quiet, steady love behind all of it.

This wasn’t about money. This was trust and security. A man who’d thought through every reason I might run and gently, intentionally, removed them one by one.

I’d spent so much of my life holding tight to independence like it was the only thing keeping me afloat. I knew how to survive alone. I was good at it. This—us—wasn’t survival. It was comfort. A life I never dared to imagine I deserved.

Was I going to let fear talk me out of something I already knew in my bones was right?

Dalton didn’t want to own me. He wanted me with him.

Little did he know, I already was.

I cleared my throat, still a little shaky. “For someone who was always on their own, I never, ever imagined I’d find a home in Lindley.”

He smiled and leaned in to press a kiss to my lips. “That mean you’re stayin’ with us?”

I looked down at Cora, who was grabbing onto the playpen, using it to stand up.

“Of course.” I grinned. “Gimme the damn shirt.”

Dalton laughed, grabbed the shirts from the ground and we changed quickly, slipping on the ridiculous white tees—mine stretched across my chest with pink letters that matched my pants.

As we stepped outside, toward the party and our people and a life I never thought I’d get to call mine, I realized I hadn’t taken the leap.

I’d already landed.

50

Dalton

The late afternoon sun dipped low enough that the patio was bathed in a soft golden haze. Streamers fluttered in the warm breeze, pink balloons bobbing from every post and branch, the air thick with the smell of barbecue and the low hum of country music playing through the speakers.

Everyone I loved was here.

Papa Banks was posted up by the fence, a plate in his hand, talking to a few of the guys from the circuit. Beau and Fable were laughing with Gatlin, who had a beer in one hand and was tossing a football back and forth with a couple of the other dads. Kids ran wild across the lawn—boots stomping, tiny cowboy hats flying off, wild shrieks of laughter cutting through the music.

Right in the center of it all was Cora.

Passed from arm to arm, cooed over and spoiled rotten. She didn’t seem to mind one bit—grinning, babbling, reaching for anyone who waved something shiny in front of her. She was the rodeo queen of the day, no doubt about it.

Goddamn.

This was the life I wanted.

Not the championships. Not the checks. This.

I leaned against the railing, soaking it in. For the briefest moment, my mind drifted to my parents. To the empty chairs they’d never bother to fill. To the birthdays and milestones they’d never show up for.

Yet, when I looked back at the patio, at this, the ache dulled.

It wasn’t me missing out. It was them.

This—this laughter, this chaos, this family—was everything they’d never have.