Page 174 of Stay Wild Darlin’

“A perfect fit,” I murmured.

“Like us,” she said and rested her forehead against mine, Cora smushed between us.

59

Poppy

Most of my life, when I had questions about how to cook something or what fever symptoms were normal, I asked strangers in online social media groups. I relied on message boards and quiet corners of the internet because I didn’t have the kind of family you call at midnight, or friends who’d bring over soup when life fell apart.

And now, I sat in the backyard of a home we made from scratch, next to my fiancé, holding back tears as he cradled adoption papers in his lap, papers that would officially make Cora my daughter. We were surrounded by people who weren’t here because they had to be. They were here because they wanted to be. Because they loved us.

Because they were family—the kind you get to choose.

“You gonna post about this?”

“In the group?”

He nodded, glancing out at the yard where our people were still laughing, chasing Cora through the grass.

“Don’t think I need to.” A small smile tugged at my lips. “There’s not much to question. I’ve never felt more sure about anything.”

I looked back at him and wrapped my arms tighter around him.

“There was a time I would’ve posted it all—hoping someone, anyone, would tell me I was doing okay. Those strangers carried me when no one else did.” My eyes blurred a little, but I didn’t cry this time. “Now I’ve got everyone I need right here.”

Dalton looked down for a moment. The evening light caught on the freckles scattered across his cheeks and nose. His green eyes were soft. I laughed because he was wearing that worn gray T-shirt that stretched across his chest, the one with the faint paint stain from Cora’s room. He had on his favorite cowboy hat and a pair of old jeans that hugged his hips like they were made for him.

“Look at them.” He pointed to the group as they ran through the field.

I smiled as Fable nearly tripped over a sandal, Harleigh trying to redirect Cora with bubbles, and Beau pretending to fall flat so she’d run back and giggle.

It was wild how fast everything had changed. How fast she had changed. They always said toddlers took off the second they figured something out, and Cora had officially discovered her legs and didn’t look back.

Dalton had changed too.

We all had.

One moment I was a nanny with a guarded heart and a suitcase of plans I didn’t believe in. Next, I had a ring on my finger, a daughter wrapped around my soul, and a house filled with the kind of laughter I used to only dream about.

I reached for Dalton’s hand and squeezed. “It’s chaos out there,” I said, smiling as Cora let out a squeal and darted behind the tree with Harleigh and Fable hot on her trail.

“Yeah. It is.”

His smile faded into something softer as he looked back out at the yard—at Cora, at our people, at this full, wild, imperfect life we’d built.

“Some rides are rough, they throw you hard. Beat you up. Leave you flat on your back, wondering if you’ll ever get back up.”

I turned to him, heart thudding, because I knew this wasn’t only about bull riding.

“But sometimes, you hold on longer than you ever thought you could. You trust your gut. Let the right people guide you. Somehow . . . you make it.”

He looked at me then, and under the soft glow of the string lights, his green eyes burned steady. “If you’re lucky, you don’t survive the ride. You land exactly where you were meant to be.”

“You think this is where we were meant to land?”

He didn’t hesitate. “No,” he said. “I think this is where we were meant to begin.”

I smiled through tears, letting the warmth of his words sink into my skin. My chaos, his steadiness. Our daughter. Our people. This life.