Page 130 of Wicked & Wildflower

“Were you here in California when this conversation was held?”

I nod.

“Two-party consent state. You’re safe.”

I hear Everett let out a breath at that.

“For argument’s sake, is it possible that a thumb drive containing files from your father’s business could’ve been mixed up with your personal belongings when you left your job at his company?”

“For argument’s sake, it’s notimpossible,” I respond, polishing off my drink.

“Alright, and let’s say those personal belongings got stashed away somewhere during your move from Kansas to California. You have your stuff in storage, right?”

“Right. I owned a home there, so I brought most of everything I have out here with me, but since I’ve been living with them,” I nod at my sister and Leo, “I had to get a storage unit for my stuff until I find a place of my own.”

Everett’s hand finds my thigh, squeezing lightly.

“So, you’re saying it’s possible that if you took a look through your storage unit—say you need to find something in there—you could potentially come across a thumb drive you don’t recognize, take it home and stumble upon some incriminating documents?”

“I suppose that could happen, yes.”

Ryan smiles. “Then I’d say, if you were to spontaneously come across something like that, it’d be your responsibility to turn it in to authorities right away.”

“And if the incriminated individual claimed she had possession of the documents for an extended period of time and used them for blackmail?” Everett asks.

“His word against hers, and in my experience, criminals are not often believed. I imagine he and his legal team would be more focused on keeping him from receiving a life sentence.”

An elephant of anxiety is lifted off my chest, and I take a deep breath, realizing for the first time that there may be a way out of this, a light at the end of the tunnel that my father has kept me locked inside my entire life.

Looking back, I know I should’ve taken those files as I sign I could’ve put this all to bed months ago, could’ve saved us all a lot of heartbreak and fear, but at the time, I didn’t have it in me. My dad was right; I’d secretly been pining for his approval all my life, and the thought of being on top—of finally having something over him—made me feel powerful where I had always felt weak.

The longer I held on, the harder it was to let go, to tell my sister.

Knowingly turning our father in—potentially sending him to prison—is a heavy weight in and of itself, but it’s nothing in comparison to the fear that wretched through me when I was told he tried to come for my child. If nothing else, she must be protected, and Darby and I agree on that. We need him out of our lives for her.

But maybe for the two of us as well. We deserve to move on, to heal, with the family we chose for ourselves. The family who chose us when our own never did.

“You know,” Leo snaps his fingers, gathering our attention, “I think I threw some decorations for the wedding in Dal’s storage unit a few months ago. We’re probably going to need to go get them.”

Darby nods, face flushed with alcohol. “Yeah. I think you’re right.”

Ryan winks at them. “Well, I’ll be at the wedding if you have anything you might need to…run past me.”

They continue making small talk, hatching their plan. I notice Everett silently slide off his barstool and grab my hand, pulling me with him as he leads me toward the pool table at the back of the bar.

“You two better stay where I can see you!” Emilio shouts, sending a cluster of laughter our way.

“We’re playing pool, asshole,” Everett calls back, grabbing two cues and a rack off the wall. “Thought you could use some space to breathe, and you never did get the chance to show me your skills.”

I hum, reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. “Well, I’m not faking them this time, so consider yourself warned.”

He grabs my hips, spinning me around and pinning me between his body and the pool table. All the day’s chaos, all the heartbreak weighing me down, dissipates at his touch. He’s my life raft in a raging sea.

“We’re not faking anything anymore, Wildflower.”

Cupping the back of his neck, I pull his head down so his lips brush against mine. “We’re real,” I whisper against his mouth, feeling him smile. “Now, watch me really kick your ass.”

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