Page 163 of Stay Wild Darlin’

We pushed farther into the house, my hand still in his as we crossed the space.

Inside, it was nothing like I expected.

The outside might’ve looked like it was one strong gust of wind away from collapse, but inside it was warm. Old, sure—worn floors, faded wallpaper, creaky floorboards that moaned with every step—but it had soul. There was no furniture yet, and every room begged to be painted.

He pointed as we moved.

“That’ll be the kitchen. Open it up, knock out that wall, build an island big enough to pile food and backpacks and crayons on.”

I smiled, already picturing Cora with jelly on her cheeks at breakfast.

“This’ll be the front room.”

We passed through what used to be a dining room and turned toward a smaller room off to the side, with a door already slightly ajar.

Dalton pushed it open.

“This is where you’ll be.”

I stepped inside and froze.

It was the only furnished room in the house.

A soft cream rug anchored the space. A vintage wooden desk sat under the window, a lamp, a few notepads, a bookshelf half-filled already. A soft, cushioned chair in the corner. A plant. Curtains.

“What . . . what is this?”

“I bought some furniture earlier. Said I was running errands. Figured if I was bringing you here, you deserved to walk in and see it.”

My heart was in my throat.

“You said you always wanted to be a teacher.” He went on, stepping inside beside me. “This could be your office. You could work in town if you want, but I also looked into some programs. There’s a couple where you could teach English part-time from home. Flexible hours. You’d still be with Cora.”

I stared at him.

“What?” I asked, dumbfounded.

He smiled.

Of course I looked into those programs. Online teaching certifications. Remote ESL options, but I never let myself get too far. Between the long days with Cora and the guilt of even imagining wanting more than what I already had, I told myself it wasn’t realistic.

I was the nanny. I loved her, loved Dalton, but dreaming beyond that felt selfish.

“You don’t have to work, either,” Dalton said gently. “I . . . wanted to make sure you had options.”

Something cracked open in my chest. Something big.

Before I could even think, I rushed toward him, my hands threading through his messy blonde hair as I cupped his face between my palms. His green eyes locked on mine, bright and steady and full of everything I didn’t know I’d been starving for.

“I-I can’t believe you did this.”

He smiled, the barest tilt of his lips. “You’re a part of me, Poppy. I want to support your dreams the way you’ve supported mine.”

I shook my head, stunned—not because I doubted him, but because I didn’t know anyone could love like this. So fully. So quietly. So completely.

I didn’t even have time to collect myself before he gently tugged me toward the stairs. We walked through the upstairs hall, and he pointed out three smaller bedrooms, one perfect for Cora, and then the large primary suite. The bathtub looked big enough to swim in. I couldn’t stop smiling.

Then he led me back to the living room, tossed the blanket he’d brought in onto the floor in front of the old stone fireplace, and knelt to light a fire like he’d done it a thousand times before.