9. Dylan
nine
Dylan
I lie in Izzy’s bed long after she’s fallen asleep, staring up at a ceiling that’s tinted hazy pink by her new night light.
“I thought a lamp might make you feel safer on your own, Little Bee,” I confess, then risk waking her with a brush of my fingertips across her forehead. “But it’s not enough, is it?”
I’m not fighting it. Not tonight. Not when she tried on her old cowboy boots this morning and they were tight in the toes, and it hit me like a wrecking ball how much she’s grown. And she’s only going to keep growing. Keep getting older. Keep throwing me the kind of looks that tell me I won’t always have superhero status just because I’m her dad. And one day, probably before I’m ready, she won’t want to hold my hand while she falls asleep.
Lulled by her steady breathing, I’ve got time I don’t usually have to think. Izzy starts her new school in ten days and, thanks in no small part to Poppy, she’s excited about it. A little nervous, sure, but looking forward to making new friends in a supportive environment. I don’t think she’d be so eager to transfer if it weren’t for Poppy.
I carefully extract my arm from underneath Izzy’s head and sneak out of her room. Once upon a time, I’d be starting my Friday night about now. Heading out for drinks with friends. Flirting with the prettiest girl at the bar. Hooking up with someone new every other week. I wasn’t young for very long—fatherhood didn’t give a fuck about the date on my birth certificate—but those days feel like a lifetime ago. And although I could never regret Izzy, there are times I’d give anything to experience a single hour of my old life. I miss having less to worry about and more time to chill. I miss the energy and passion I had for food and friends and working out. And fuck, I miss sex.
I’m not surprised to see Daisy stretched out on the couch in the living room downstairs, but I’m not expecting Finn sprawled across Dad’s old armchair and swiping through his phone. And I’m not prepared for the sinking disappointment that Poppy is gone. It’s been two days since I licked her wrist like a fucking puppy, and she’s barely spoken a dozen words to me since. The energy between us is awkward. She’s polite and professional. I’m frustrated not knowing what’s going on between her and Wade, and I’m constantly talking myself out of reaching out to touch her.
“Beer?” I ask Finn as I pass him on the way to the kitchen.
“Thanks,” he says without looking up as his thumbs fly across his screen.
“Daze?”
“Sure.”
I return with three open bottles, pass them around, then sink into the smaller sofa opposite Daisy. “What are we watching?”
Daisy turns off the television with a disgusted grimace. “Nothing. I’m too depressed.”
“What’s wrong?”
Finn glances up from his screen but doesn’t go so far as to put his phone away.
“What’s wrong ?” she echoes. “Look at us! It’s Friday night and we’re in our pajamas before ten o’clock.”
“These aren’t my pajamas,” Finn rumbles, glancing down at his white t-shirt and gray sweatpants.
Daisy lobs a cushion at his head. “If those aren’t your pajamas, they should be.”
Finn grunts as he stuffs the cushion behind his back, then returns to scrolling through his phone.
“In case you forgot,” I say, “there’s a little girl upstairs who needs her father here seven nights a week. A beer in front of the television is just a regular Friday night in the Davenport house, and it has been for six years now.”
“But it doesn’t have to be,” she replies. “Things are different now that Finn and I are back home. And you’ve got Poppy. You could go out if you wanted to. Have a little fun.”
My heart skips hard before it leaps clear into my throat. Did Poppy say something to Daisy about what happened between us in the kitchen? Is this my sister’s way of saying that if I’m interested in her best friend, I’ve got her blessing to go for it? And if she is cool with it…am I?
“What do you mean?” I ask, clearing my throat when it cracks.
“I mean you’ve got more time to focus on yourself now that Izzy has a nanny,” Daisy says. “You shaved this week. Next step: do your hair. Put on a nice shirt and a pair of pants without food stains. Wear a little cologne.” She raises her eyebrows suggestively. “Meet new people. Maybe even go on a date.”
“A date?” If we’re not talking about Poppy, then I don’t want to talk about this at all. “I don’t have time to date.”
“Yeah, you do,” Finn mutters.
I shoot him a dirty look. “Whose side are you on?”
“Daisy’s.”
Our little sister gives me a triumphant smirk, and I glare at her. “What are you scheming this time?”
Daisy rolls her eyes, like I’m the one giving her a hard time. “I was right about Poppy being a great nanny for Izzy, wasn’t I?”
I take a sip of my beer to delay the inevitable. “Maybe.”
“Definitely. So can you please keep an open mind when I tell you about the incredible woman I’ve set you up with for tomorrow night?”
A spray of beer bursts from my lips, and I scowl hard at Finn. Daisy interferes enough without his encouragement, but by the look on his face, this part of her plan is news to him too.
“Daze,” he says with a tone of warning. “What did you do?”
“What?” She stiffens with indignation. “You agreed he needs to get out there.”
“Yeah, but I thought you meant with a woman he knows. Maybe one he chooses for himself?”
Daisy’s snort is so quiet, I might be convinced it never happened except Finn hears it too.
“What’s so funny?” he asks.
“You want Dylan to choose a match for himself? With his track record?”
“All right.” I stand, unable to tell if I’m offended because Daisy’s wrong or because she’s got it really right. “I’m not talking about this, and I’m not going out with a woman I don’t know just because you tell me to.”
Daisy scrambles to her feet, following me into the kitchen, and even Finn tucks his phone away and trails along behind.
“Aren’t you the least bit curious?” Daisy asks me.
“Nope.”
She crosses her arms with a huff, then frowns at Finn like she just noticed him. “Why are you following me?”
“The police are going to want a witness.”
Daisy shoves him—he doesn’t move—before she positions herself between me and the exit, bracing herself with a wide stance as if she expects me to barrel right through.
“Her name’s Molly,” Daisy says. “She’s twenty-six years old, has an English lit degree, and runs a bookstore in Jasper Creek.”
“Good for Molly.”
I step to the left, but Daisy darts to the side to block me. Behind her, Finn lounges against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching with amusement.
“She’s a brunette—I know you like brunettes—and she loves small town life.”
“Who said I like brunettes?” I ask, then shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. The answer is no.”
“She’s got no plans to move away from her hometown,” Daisy says, ignoring me and talking faster with every word. “But Jasper Creek is only twenty minutes from here, so it’s not like we’re talking long distance. How great is that?”
I weave to the right, and Daisy mirrors me again. “She’s never been married and doesn’t have kids, but she comes from a big family, so she wants at least three—two boys and a girl—preferably within the next five to seven years.”
My heart starts to race, my neck feels clammy, and I have no idea why I’m starting to panic. I used to be so fucking cocky. The king of confidence. Always in control. These days, I’m in control of nothing— not even my own love life.
“What the hell did you do, Daze?” I demand. “Put out an ad? Conduct interviews?”
Her cheeks flush pink as she holds my stare.
“You’ve got to be freaking joking.” I laugh because what else can I do? This is ridiculous.
“It wasn’t an ad exactly,” she argues. “It was an anonymous post in an online forum.”
Finn snorts, and at a hot glare from me, he turns his chuckle into a chesty cough. I tuck my hands under Daisy’s arms, lifting her petite frame off the floor so we’re eye to eye.
“Cancel it,” I say before setting her to the side and stepping around her.
“Dylan. Wait.” Daisy sets a hand on my arm, and the softness of her voice makes me pause. “Can you stop being so defensive for a second and hear me out? I’m worried about you, and I’m worried about Izzy.”
Izzy is the chink in my armor, and Daisy knows it, so I turn around with a sigh. “Why?”
“Don’t you want something more for yourself? A family? Don’t you want that for Izzy? What we’ve got here is wonderful—you know we all love that girl as if she were our own—but aunts and uncles can’t replace the role of a mother figure.”
“Izzy has a mother,” I reply, then wish I hadn’t.
Daisy’s hazel eyes flash. “Annalise doesn’t do enough. Not for Izzy and not for you. She’s the reason you haven’t dated all these years. You’re still hanging onto hope that she’ll come to her senses, move here permanently, and the three of you will be one happy family.”
“That’s…” I run a hand through my hair as my brain shuts down. “That’s not true.” Is it?
Daisy’s head drops to the side, her expression sympathetic, and Finn averts his eyes when I glance his way.
“I know Annalise isn’t going to choose Izzy over her career,” I say, but even I can hear my hesitancy. The ghost of old hope.
“She isn’t going to choose you either,” Daisy says gently.
I swallow thickly. “I know that too.”
“Maybe you know it here”—Daisy taps my temple, then places her palm over my heart—“but I’m not sure you believe it here.”
The possibility that I’ve subconsciously put my life on hold waiting for a future that won’t come true feels like the world shifting beneath my feet.
Daisy must see something of my thoughts on my face because her smile turns a little sad. “You don’t have to go out with Molly if you don’t want to, but I think it will be good for you. It doesn’t have to be anything serious. Just one drink. Just one hour. Just the first step in a new direction.”
Finn’s watching me with a neutral expression, but there’s something in the set of his mouth that tells me he’s got something he wants to say.
“Do you still agree with Daze?” I ask.
Finn hesitates, glancing at our little sister like he’d rather do anything than back her up, but then he nods. “You need to move on, bro.”
My brother and sister say nothing as they wait for me to make a decision, and all my thoughts about Izzy growing up and making better choices for her collide with the realization that somewhere in the past six years, I’ve put my own happiness on the back burner. I’ve given so much of myself to the ranch, to my family, to Annalise, and to Izzy. Maybe it’s time to make healthier choices for myself as well as my kid.
And perhaps dating will help me gain some perspective about what the hell is going on with Poppy. Chasing a girl because I’m physically attracted to her was fine when I was young and single with nothing to lose, but I’ve got to be smarter about this. For Izzy.
“Okay. I’ll do it.”
Finn gives me an approving nod as he pushes off the wall and disappears into the living room, leaving me with Daisy as she bounces on her toes, clapping her hands under her chin.
“Thank you, Dylan. You won’t regret it.”
“We’ll see,” I mutter. “So, what’s the plan?”
“Poppy has Izzy all day tomorrow, so you can find an hour or two to fix yourself up. Go get a haircut. Buy a new pair of shoes.”
I blow a hard breath out my nose. “Okay.”
“Then you’re meeting Molly for drinks at eight.”
“But—”
Daisy flings up a hand to shut me up. “I’ve already talked to Liz—”
“You what ?” Liz is my sous chef and second in command, and I’m pissed that my sister went over my head. “Why would you do that?”
“I knew you’d try to use work as an excuse to not do this, and I’m too clever to let that happen. I asked Liz if she could cover for you, and she was only too happy to step up. If you ask me, she’s ready for a little more responsibility. Have you thought about making her head chef on weekends?”
“Daisy,” I grind out through clenched teeth. “I’m hitting my limit here.”
“Sorry. Sorry. You’re meeting Molly for a drink at The Slippery Tipple at eight o’clock. See? I’ve kept it all low key. Nothing serious. Nothing scary.”
“The Tipple?” I frown as the logistics don’t come together fast enough. “What about Izzy? Will Poppy stay late?”
Daisy flaps her hand. “No, she works with her mom on Saturday nights. I’ll stay home with Izzy.”
Before I can freak out about meeting a strange woman with Poppy nearby, another kind of panic hits. I won’t be here to put Izzy to bed, and if there was ever a valid excuse to call this whole thing off, this is it.
“I don’t know, Daze,” I say. “Izzy’s been a bit funny about bedtime lately. She likes it when I’m there to tuck her in.”
“So, we’ll have a movie night in the living room. Sundaes and sleeping bags. We’ll crash together on the couch and you can carry her upstairs when you get home.” Daisy crosses her arms like a small, blonde dictator. “I’ll clear every hurdle you throw at me, brother. Don’t think I won’t.”
I believe her, plus she’s got way more energy than I do and I’m already tired of fighting.
“You win,” I say. “I’ll go on your date with Molly, but don’t go making plans for me behind my back anymore, okay? Just… Just talk to me first. Let me make my own decisions.”
Daisy nods as her lips roll together with a smile that might be an apology or might be an attempt to hide a lie. “No problem.”
I drag my tired ass up the stairs, check on Izzy one last time, and then fall into bed on the verge of passing out from exhaustion, but sleep won’t come. I toss and turn, finally giving up so I can stare up at the ceiling and try to muster up a shred of enthusiasm for Daisy’s blind date.
My sister was right about hiring a nanny. Maybe she’s right about Molly being the kind of partner I need. Someone perfect on paper.
It isn’t long before images of Poppy creep into my head—pictures I’ve tried to ignore but only get brighter the harder I deny them. Her mouth curving in a satisfied smile. The crease of her ass behind the rip in her jeans. The swell of her tits beneath her sweaters and the arch of her foot when she removes her boots. The delicious glow of her soft, smooth skin. The sweet snare of her cherry lips.
With a tortured groan, I shove my hand into my briefs, wrap my fingers around my throbbing dick, and muffle my grunts as I pump and sweat my way to a mediocre orgasm that barely takes the edge off. When it’s over, I close my eyes and catch my breath, then grab a couple tissues from my nightstand and clean myself up.
Ten minutes later, I’m staring at the ceiling again. It isn’t enough. Nothing but the real thing will ever be enough.