Page 50 of Stay Wild Darlin’

Dalton stared at us as he tossed his gear bag into the back of the truck. His eyes lingered—not just on Cora, but on me too.

The rest of the week had been quiet between us. Neither of us mentioned the hug.

The hug that tore me apart.

The hug that seemed to break something wide open inside him.

I couldn’t imagine what Dalton had been through.

Loving someone who left.

Raising a daughter alone.

Carrying all that weight with no one to help hold it.

Dalton stepped closer and gave Cora one last stroke over her soft curls. “Be good, sweet girl,” he murmured to her as his eyes flicked to mine. “That goes for you too.”

I smiled, and before I could say anything back, he wrapped his arm around my shoulders in a side hug.

“Thanks. For everything.” He stepped back, tipped his hat with a half smile, and turned toward the truck.

As the truck pulled out of the driveway, Cora let out a little whimper, a soft fuss at first, but then her bottom lip trembled, and her arms wiggled.

I brought her inside, humming something soft as I grabbed a bottle from the drying rack before mixing up some formula. The second I offered it to her, she stuck out her tongue, barely latching before pulling away. Her little brows furrowed, and she made a frustrated sound deep in her throat.

I double-checked the nipple, the cap, the temperature, and everything looked fine.

“Hmm,” I muttered, tilting the bottle and trying again.

Same reaction. Not quite rejection, but definitely not her usual eager gulping. She seemed a little off, a little clingier.

“It’s okay, maybe it’s ’cause Dad’s gone,” I said softly, smiling at her as I brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “We miss him already, huh?”

She didn’t answer, obviously, but her eyes stayed on the door like maybe she expected him to come back through it.

I lifted her into my arms and carried her outside, settling onto the grass with her on my lap. The late morning sun peeked through the trees, and I lowered her to let her grab at the blades of grass, her tiny fingers curling around them.

“See? This is nice,” I murmured, trying to distract us both.

She didn’t smile right away, but her little hands moved with curiosity, tugging at the green like she might try to eat it. I let out a breath and leaned back on one hand, watching her.

Sometimes a little fresh air could fix more than a baby’s sour mood.

“How’s it going?” Fable asked after we finally got Cora down in her portable playpen in the guest room. We left the door open so we’d be able to hear her if she woke up.

“She’s a little off today. Fussy. Didn’t want her bottle earlier, and it was harder than usual to put her to sleep.”

Fable tucked her legs beneath her on the couch in the living room. “Maybe she misses Dalton.”

“That’s what I thought. She didn’t cry or anything dramatic, just . . . you know when a baby’s not quite themselves?”

“Totally.”

I grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and followed her to the couch.

“Well, you’re doing amazing. And you made it to girls’ night, which already makes you a superhero.”

I smiled, trying to shake off the worry still lingering in my chest. “Yeah. Hopefully a little chill time helps us both.”