Page 45 of Stay Wild Darlin’

I said nothing and drove in silence.

Feeling like the worst version of myself.

20

Poppy

I didn’t say a word. My hands were folded in my lap, pressed so tight together it felt like I was holding myself in place. Dalton’s words replayed over and over in my head. You’re not gonna be around long enough to teach her colors.

He was right.

I stayed quiet, even though my chest tightened and my throat burned.

When we pulled up to the baby boutique outlet, I unbuckled slowly, refusing to look at him.

“I can stay in the truck.”

Dalton paused, hand on the door. “Come inside,” he said firmly.

I nodded because that’s what my boss wanted.

He got Cora out of the back seat, and I grabbed the diaper bag, slung it over my shoulder, and followed him toward the store.

There was no smiling or small talk as we walked through the parking lot, the steady squeak of the buggy wheels was the only sound filling the space between us. Cora sat in the basket, still tucked inside her car seat, her little hands wiggling and feet kicking.

Dalton walked beside me, his hands resting on the handle of the cart.

He stopped when we reached the front of the boutique.

His hand brushed mine, and then his fingers closed around it.

I froze.

My heart jumped into my throat as I turned to look at him. His green eyes met mine, his mouth pressed into a frown.

He was beautiful. Painfully beautiful.

Standing this close, watching him push a baby, made it all worse.

So much worse.

“I was a⁠—”

I shook my head. “No. It’s okay,” I said, forcing a small smile I didn’t mean. “You were right.” I looked down at Cora, then back at the store entrance. “Let’s go inside.”

I didn’t need an apology.

Not from my boss.

Not for something that wasn’t supposed to hurt as much as it did.

We drifted through the store aisle by aisle, Cora babbling from her car seat like she had full opinions about every outfit and pacifier we passed.

I kept my words careful—no “we,” no “us.” I talked in observations, pointed out colors, made jokes about ruffled socks and baby-sized cowboy boots, but I didn’t say anything that made it sound like I was part of their picture.

Still, watching Dalton in a baby store was . . . something.

He looked so out of place, but he moved with this strange sense of ease, and that did something to me I didn’t know how to shut off.