Page 145 of Stay Wild Darlin’

I tugged on pink pants I’d borrowed from Fable and threw on a plain white tee. Simple. Comfortable. Plus, it didn’t matter anyway because Cora was the star of the day.

“Mama,” she said suddenly, reaching for me with both arms.

The word still made my chest tighten. Since Dalton’s championship ride a few weeks ago, she hadn’t stopped saying it. Mama or Dada, all day long.

I lifted her into my arms and kissed her cheek. “I’m right here.”

Dalton never corrected her, and neither did I. I followed his lead, unsure of where the line was, but afraid to cross it. We never talked about it. Not once. I was too scared to say the wrong thing and disrupt the fragile rhythm we’d fallen into.

I knew I wasn’t her mother. I never wanted to take that role from anyone, even if she wasn’t around, but I didn’t know what else to do, either. So I let Cora call me Mama.

We didn’t talk about any of it—not the names, not the roles we were playing, not even when he told me he loved me at the championship. He hadn’t said it again. I hadn’t said it back. We kept going, one day at a time, like everything was normal.

Soon, he’d be shifting into the summer team series. More travel. More distractions. More pressure. I still didn’t know if this—whatever this was—was something we’d chosen or just something we’d slipped into because it felt good.

“Hey,” Dalton said, knocking gently on the doorframe as he stepped into the room. “Look at my big girl.”

“Dada,” she babbled.

He stepped into the room, a plastic bag dangling from one hand and that lopsided grin on his face. “I come bearing gifts,” he said, holding it up.

“For me?”

“For us,” he said, already looking like he half regretted whatever was inside.

I frowned, curious, and reached for the bag. “What is it?”

“It’s ridiculous.” He warned me, running a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m going to regret wearing it, but I had them made. For today.”

That only made me more curious.

I reached in and pulled out the first shirt and unfolded it. Immediately, I burst out laughing.

In big, bubblegum-pink letters, with a cowboy boot graphic stamped right in the center, it read: Rodeo Queen’s Dada.

“Oh my god,” I laughed.

Same pink lettering. Same boot.

Rodeo Queen’s Mama.

“I can’t wear this,” I said, staring down at the shirt in my hands. “I know that’s what she calls me,” I added, glancing at Cora as she played with the crinkly plastic bag on the floor. “I can’t have people thinking⁠—”

“You’re fired, Poppy.”

My heart stuttered. “I-I’m fired?”

Panic hit me like a slap. I didn’t have another job lined up. I needed one. I needed the paycheck. The independence. The plan.

“What am I supposed to do without a job?”

He didn’t flinch, only handed me a card—his debit card—and looked me square in the eye. “I don’t want a nanny anymore. I want you. I want you home with me and Cora. I’ve already added your name to my account. Whatever I was paying you as a nanny, use it—grocery runs, diapers, coffee, whatever. If you want to start looking at teaching jobs, we’ll figure out daycare together. I don’t want to keep playing like this is temporary.” He stepped closer. “Because to me, it’s not.”

I could barely breathe.

“I’m not trying to take anything away from you. I know what it means for you to rely on someone. I know how hard that is. So I made sure you’d never feel stuck.”

He reached into his pocket and handed me a folded piece of paper—an account summary.