Page 120 of Wicked & Wildflower

I reluctantly step into the kitchen to find the two of them leaning against the counter. Leo looks angry, but I know it’s not aimed at me. His eyes soften with concern when they land on me. My sister’s eyes are red with rage and the tears I know she won’t allow herself to shed.

I silently slide the thumb drive in my hand across the counter until it glides to a stop in front of them. Both of them raise their heads, confusion on their faces.

“That’s why,” I whisper. “Thatis the reason for all of it.”

“I think it’s time you stop harboring whatever bullshit you’ve been keeping to yourself and tell us what the hell is going on,” Leo says.

I nod, because my line has been drawn, and soliciting a stranger and telling them what kind of car I drive and where I live—where my daughter sleeps—is crossing it. My father thinks the only thing I’ve ever wanted is his acceptance, but he’s dead wrong.

I want my child safe. Happy.

That need trumps all else, and he has called it into question too many times.

“That thumb drive contains files that compromise Dad and his entire company. Fraud. Embezzlement. Forged documents. Enough to put him away for quite some time. I found the information when I was still working for Andrews Development, and when I left town, I used it for blackmail so he wouldn’t come after us.” I swallow, looking directly at my sister. “So he wouldn’t come after you.”

“Dahlia…”

I cut her off as I spill everything I’ve been hiding the last few months. The conversations with my father and his threats. The reason he told Jason I left. The reasons why I kept it from them and why I was trying to protect them.

As I speak, my sister’s tears begin spilling down her cheeks. Leo wraps her in his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her trembling body instantly stills at his touch, settling whatever war is raging in her mind. Suddenly, I miss Everett.

He’s on a flight back from New York right now, his sister with him. He has enough going on with bringing her home, and I can’t imagine what emotions that’s going to stir up in all of them, but it doesn’t stop me from wishing he was here to hold me too.

“We have to do something,” she says, more to Leo than to me. “He can’t keep doing this to us. I don’t know why he won’t let us go and leave us alone.”

“Do you think he’d stop if you gave him those files back?” Leo asks quietly.

“No.” I shake my head with confidence. “He told me that if I gave it back, he’d leave me alone, and he’d get Jason off my tail too. He point blank told me that he’d never give up on Darby, though.” I chew on my inner cheek. “He sees Darby as hisproperty, a cherished item you stole. He saw me as something he never asked for but couldn’t get rid of.”

I honestly don’t know which one of us has it worse.

“I hate him,” my sister chokes through her tears.

I don’t have it in me to cry over that man anymore, but I say, “Me too.”

I hate seeing her broken, especially when she has been fighting so hard to find her happiness, when she’s come so far. I can’t stand seeing her spiral.

Rounding the counter, I pull her from Leo’s arms. He lets her go as she turns to face me, face falling into my shoulder. “It’s okay, Darby,” I whisper. “We’ll figure it out. But we can’t have you crying like this a week before your wedding.” I force a smile on my face. “We’ve got too much to get done, and crying all the time is gonna make you puffy.”

She lets out a broken laugh, nodding against my chest.

“Let’s get you down the aisle first, and we’ll deal with the rest of this bullshit later.”

I meet Leo’s eyes over the top of her head. Looking as devastated as I feel, he sends me a silent nod.

41

Wicked

Got Pickles?

I rush through thefront door, attempting to remain as quiet as I can but too on edge to care much. The house is dark and silent, as it should be in the middle of the night, but the text message I received from my brother on the flight back to California had me rushing to his house the moment we touched down.

I find my brother sitting on the couch in his living room with his face in his hands. He lifts his head when he hears me enter, a mix of exhaustion, devastation, and anger coating his features.

“Where’s Dahlia?” I ask.

He silently stands and leads me down the hallway behind the kitchen, where I know his bedroom is located. Quietly, he creaks open the door, and we both peek our heads inside. Darby and Dahlia are in bed together, sleeping deeply, turned on their sides and facing each other.

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