I hook mine around it. “Deal?”
“Deal,” she says solemnly.
Dallas is quiet behind us, and when I glance back at him, he’s watching us with an expression that makes my lungs forget their job.
Soft.
Wrecked.
Hopeful.
Scared.
That look is the part that keeps me up at night. The wanting was easy. Reckless and hungry, uncomplicated in the moment. It’s the afterward that’s terrifying—the way Dallas looked at me like I could become a permanent fixture in this house, like I could matter to his daughter, like this could turn into a life instead of a secret.
We all pretend none of that is happening.
Dinner is warm. Lila gives me a full tour of every decoration she and Dallas “curated,” her word, which makes me suspicious about her YouTube history. Dallas serves roast and potatoes and cornbread, all of it comforting and a little too much.
We talk about school. About Ellie and her uncles. About how Rusty once stole an entire ham off the counter, and Maggie apparently “almost died” from yelling.
Whenever conversation lulls, Lila fills it. She tells me in great detail about a book she’s reading. “It’s about a horse detective, Miss Faith, he solves mysteries with his nose.” And then asks if I’ve ever been to a real city museum. When I say yes, her eyes go wide.
“I wanna go someday,” she says. “Daddy says maybe when I’m older, we can go see dinosaur bones.”
“He also says they’re probably haunted,” Dallas adds dryly.
Lila giggles. “He does not.”
“Tell her the truth, Dad.”
Dallas lifts one shoulder. “I said if any building was haunted, it’d be the one full of dead giant lizards.”
“They’re not lizards,” Lila and I say at the same time.
We blink at each other, then burst out laughing.
For a little while, the knot in my chest unravels.See? says a small voice in my head.You can exist here. You can laugh. You can eat food at a table where no one is silently evaluating you.
After dinner, Lila insists we all go to the living room to watch “just one cartoon” before bed, which turns into three because she’s very persuasive and I am very weak.
The rest of the ranch is quieter than I expected. Boone and Rose are in the guest house with their kids. Nash is “in town,” which could mean anything from helping at the feed store to flirting with the mayor’s office. Clay’s gone back to the bunkhouse after practice. He likes his space when he’s in rodeo mode. And Maggie… Maggie apparently “turned in early,” probably not wanting to witness any awkward romance in her kitchen.
Lila falls asleep halfway through the third one, head in my lap, hand still tangled in the sleeve of her new jacket. Dallas appears with a blanket, and we coordinate a careful transfer—him scooping her up and me sliding out so she doesn’t wake.
He carries her down the hall, murmuring words I can’t hear. My heart squeezes at the sight of it. This big, capable man cradling his entire world in his arms like she’s nothing but air.
I hover awkwardly in the living room, suddenly hyperaware of how quiet the house is without her chatter.
When he comes back, he looks around automatically for something to do, some task, some distraction. When he doesn’t find one, his gaze lands on me instead.
“Drink?”
“Yes,” I say too fast. “Please. I mean… only if you’re having one.”
He huffs a little laugh. “Yeah, I could use one.”
We end up at the kitchen table with two mismatched glasses and a bottle of amber liquid.
