Page 53 of Stay Wild Darlin’

“It’s the first day of the event. You have another day.” My heart thudded. “Dalton, what if⁠—”

“I don’t give a fuck about the event.” He cut in. “If my daughter’s in the hospital, I’m coming home.”

There was silence, then his voice dropped, cracked at the edges. “Please . . . take care of her until I get there.”

“Of course I will,” I whispered, my throat thick, eyes locked on Cora as she whimpered softly in her seat. “I’ve got her. I swear.”

Dalton exhaled hard, and then the line went dead.

I stared at the screen, then back down at Cora, brushing a tear off her cheek.

“Dad’s coming, baby girl,” I whispered.

I stayed in the back seat, holding Cora’s hand while Fable drove us toward the nearest ER.

I didn’t know much about kids. I hadn’t been around babies. I researched things. I asked questions in forums because I didn’t want to screw anything up.

But this? This I knew.

Something in my gut was screaming that this wasn’t normal, that this wasn’t teething or a bad nap. She wasn’t herself.

I didn’t even think to ask the group this time.

Didn’t need to.

This was instinct. This was something deep and immediate. Something innate.

“We’re gonna get you help, okay, Cora girl? I’ve got you.”

Fable didn’t say anything, but her knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and the speedometer inched a little higher with every mile.

Dalton was flying home.

But until he got here⁠—

It was me and her, and I wasn’t letting anything happen to her.

23

Dalton

“I’m here,” I breathed, rounding the last corner of the hospital hallway and stepping into the room Poppy said they were in.

“We are too, Dad,” Poppy said softly from a small chair in the corner, Cora curled against her chest, wrapped in one of the hospital’s too-thin blankets.

Relief hit me like a damn wave, but before I could say anything, the doctor walked in behind me. I turned quickly, heart still hammering.

“Thank God,” I blurted out. “Is everything okay? I’m sorry, I was on⁠—”

“Your girls are doing much better, Dad.” The doctor gently interrupted me, a warm smile on her face.

She looked to be in her sixties, gray hair pulled into a high ponytail. She gave me a reassuring squeeze on the arm before stepping aside so I could move toward Cora.

I didn’t hesitate. I crossed the room in three long strides and scooped her into my arms, holding her against my chest like I could fix everything by being here.

“She’s got a milk allergy,” the doctor explained kindly. “It’s fairly common for children to develop. Her system reacted strongly to the formula she was on. Once we got her hydrated and switched over to hypoallergenic, she perked right up.”

I closed my eyes for a second, pressing my lips to Cora’s forehead as she let out a soft sigh.