Page 12 of Stay Wild Darlin’

“Damn,” I muttered, rubbing her tiny back. “I miss her too. I bet she’d know exactly what to do right now. Me? I’m a loser.” My throat tightened, but I forced myself to keep talking. “I promise, though. I will try my hardest to make this work. I swear to you, I’m gonna do everything I can to give you the best life. People think all I do is fuck up, but I’m gonna prove them wrong, baby girl. I’m gonna be the kind of dad you deserve.”

Cora settled slightly, her little hand curling into the fabric of my shirt. I exhaled a heavy sigh.

“You wanted to be held, huh? Wanted someone to talk to you? Partied too hard and now you can’t get yourself back to bed?” I chuckled, shaking my head. “Kinda sounds like your dad.”

I studied her tiny face, the way her bright green eyes blinked sleepily, the little spurts of blonde hair that would probably grow wild like mine. The same nose, the same face shape—it was fucking uncanny.

Who knew one night of loving with your mama would ever lead to this?

My jaw tightened as I picked up my phone, swiping to my last texts with Brooke.

Please, Brooke.

*photo of Cora with a bull when I dropped her off with Beau*

She won’t stop crying. I need help.

Nothing. No response.

Ever.

I looked down at Cora, brushing my thumb gently over her cheek.

“She’ll come back,” I murmured, though I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince her or myself. “Your momma will come back, and we’ll get her feeling better.”

Deep down, something in me knew she wasn’t coming back and I was going to have to do this on my own.

7

Poppy

One Month Later

“Sorry, honey, but it looks like the new owners are wanting to refresh the staff, so we’re going to have to let you go.”

I’d seen the writing on the wall the moment management changed, but knowing it might happen didn’t make it any easier when the words finally came.

“You got a teaching job yet?” my manager asked, her voice laced with something that sounded like sympathy, but I refused to acknowledge it.

“No, but I’ll land on my feet.”

I forced a small smile, handing over my tablet and apron before grabbing my last paycheck, my tips, and my purse. Without another word, I turned and walked out of the bar, the cool Seattle air hitting me the moment I stepped outside.

I let out a slow breath, glancing down at the small envelope in my hand. It was enough to get me through the next month or two if I stretched it, but beyond that? I had no plan. No job prospects.

No idea what the hell I was going to do next.

My fingers itched to check my phone, to scroll through job listings for the hundredth time, but instead, I shoved it deeper into my bag. I didn’t need another night of staring at rejection emails and feeling like a failure. It was time to go home, maybe apply for more positions or wallow with a cheap bottle of wine and a sad TV show.

It wasn’t far to my apartment from the bar, which was great because gas was disgustingly overpriced. I climbed the five flights of stairs to my small studio apartment, my legs burning with each step. The building was old, the stairwell dimly lit, and the walls carried the lingering scent of someone’s dinner from hours ago. Outside, the city pulsed with life—sirens wailing in the distance, the steady hum of traffic below, the occasional burst of laughter from the bar down the street. This wasn’t where I wanted to land. I always imagined myself in a house with a huge porch, teaching kids and running through fields barefoot.

The thought of my parents—or even Lana—seeing where I was living almost made me laugh. They’d have something snide to say about it, no doubt. A fifth-floor walk-up in the noisiest part of town, in a neighborhood where the walls were thin and privacy was nonexistent. It was a far cry from the life they had, from the expectations they’d had for me.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside. It was cozy, in its own way. Mismatched throw pillows on my secondhand couch, a tiny kitchen cluttered with thrifted mugs, fairy lights strung along the exposed brick wall. It wasn’t much, but it was mine.

I set my purse down on the counter and exhaled, rubbing my hands over my face. This was supposed to be temporary, but with no job and no backup plan, it was starting to feel more like a dead end.

My fingers moved on autopilot, unlocking my phone and pulling up my bank account. The number on the screen made my stomach clench.