Page 107 of Stay Wild Darlin’

It was a nice evening out, and the walk would probably sober us up. “Let’s walk.”

We headed down the driveway and walked in silence until we reached the road.

“You think your family’s gonna be pissed we dipped?”

I thought about it.

The one who always said the wrong thing, wore the wrong dress, showed up wrong and left wrong. They never saw me. Not the version I actually was.

I shrugged. “No. They won’t even notice.”

“Does that bother you?”

We rounded the corner, the soft glow from the shops and restaurants spilling onto the sidewalk.

“Sometimes, but it’s . . . unfixable. I used to think maybe one day we’d reconcile, have some picture-perfect moment where everything’s said and forgiven and everyone hugs at Thanksgiving.” I shook my head. “That’s not me. That’s not them. I can’t keep trying to change people who never cared to know me in the first place.”

We walked a little farther before I added, quieter, “They’re gonna try, though. My dad will. Especially now that he knows who your parents are. I don’t want that anymore. I don’t want to be reached out to out of convenience or status.” I paused. My voice thickened. “I spent years of my life being second. The other daughter. I’m . . . tired. I don’t want to be tolerated. I want to be first in someone’s eyes.”

Dalton stopped walking and looked right at me. “You are,” he said. “First. And last. In mine.”

I blinked, that soft pressure building in my eyes.

I smiled and linked my arm through his. “Okay, cowboy.”

Together, still tipsy and slightly off-balance, we stumbled through the front doors of the hotel. Somehow, this had become my favorite part of the night.

39

Dalton

“This place is fancy,” Poppy said as we stepped into the hotel. Her heels were in one hand, and she walked barefoot across the marble floor without hesitation.

She looked good. A little messy, sure—hair loose, dress creased from moving and laughing and not giving a damn.

The lobby was all marble floors, gold accents, and tall windows. It was over the top, but I’d wanted to spoil Poppy tonight, especially knowing the evening would be hard for her.

When I walked back over from checking in, she fell into step with me.

“You good?” I asked as we headed for the elevator.

“Yeah. Surprisingly.”

Her arm brushed mine, but she didn’t pull away.

When the elevator doors opened, we stepped in, and she stayed close.

We rode up in silence, not because there was nothing to say, but because everything felt too full to speak aloud. The kind of quiet that settled between two people when everything important had already formed beneath the surface.

Even the walk to the room was wordless. I unlocked the door and stepped inside, glancing around the space.

“Two beds,” I said, half an explanation, half a nervous admission.

She followed, slowly moving her eyes across the room—the crisp white bedding, the soft lighting, the untouched and pristine look.

She stopped in the center, her voice barely above audible. “Two beds?”

I turned toward her, heart in my throat. “I didn’t want to presume.”