Page 19 of Wicked & Wildflower

But she told me we had to pretend nothing ever happened between us, and I want to understand why. I know it has something to do with Lou. I’m not sure what it is, or why she feels she needs to hide herself away, as if she thinks she can’t choose her daughter and also herself at the same time. She deserves more than that.

My emotions must be written all over my face, because she clears her throat and stands straighter, those blue eyes flashing with guilt and something else I can’t sense. “Um, okay. Well, how much do I owe you for that spark plug you’re going to go get?”

I swallow all the words I want to say. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not going to take free things from you, Everett.”

“The spark plug costs far less than whatever you likely paid to fill my tank this morning.”

She hums at that. “California gas pricesarea crime.”

“Exactly. So, if anything, I owe you.”

She smiles. “I can’t argue with that.”

“So what made you into cars?”

“I mean, my dad has owned Ramos Automotive since before my sister and I were born. I grew up running around that place with a wrench in my hand. I think it’s in my blood.” I lean over the hood, plugging the new spark plug in. “But I wouldn’t say it’s like my dream, per se. I just couldn’t stand the idea of my dad giving it up. Of course, there was no chance Elena was taking it over. Leo, either.” I pull back and wipe my hands on the towel thrown over my shoulder. “I was a bit lost in my early twenties, so when the opportunity arose, I thought, why not? My siblings both did greater things. This was the least I could do.”

“Serving your community and preserving your family’s legacy was the least you could do? Seems like a lot to me,” she says thoughtfully. “Something to be proud of.”

My chest takes flight at that.

“In comparison to an international best-selling author and a world-renowned professional athlete, though?”

“Yes.” Her eyes burn through me with such intensity, I can’t question whether or not she really means that. “But I know what you mean. I’m the black sheep of my family too.”

I tilt my head, leaning against the hood of her car. “Well, now you have to tell me more.”

I know a little of her story, the things Darby has mentioned. I know Darby came to Pacific Shores that summer when she was seventeen because her parents were afraid of Darby finding out Dahlia was pregnant. I know Dahlia was a trouble-maker and a wild child in her parent’s opinion. I also know that by the haunted look in her eyes, there are a lot of things she has never allowed to the surface, maybe even some things Darby doesn’t know.

“When I was little and Darby was just a baby, I remember our mother being around a lot. We used to bake all the time. She taught us how to swim in the summer, took us sledding in the winter. My father was trying to build his business at the time, sohe was gone often. It was just our mom and us.” She twirls her car keys around her finger. “Then, when I was around the age of ten or so, things changed. It was suddenly all about appearances. I don’t think it was my parents that changed, I think that it was me hitting the age where it started to become noticeable. What my value was supposed to be in our family unit. No longer a child, but now a prospect to further his success and status.” She shudders at the memory. “We had to go to church every Sunday. We stopped baking, and my mother started controlling our sugar intake, telling us we needed to be pretty enough to catch the attention of nice boys.

“I remember questioning my school teacher one day. She was droning on about the responsibilities of women in society: God-fearing wives and mothers.” I give her what I’m sure is a horrified expression, because she chuffs and adds, “I went to a private school. Anyway, I simply asked if the boys were being taught the same thing.” She lets out an exasperated laugh. “She screamed at me in front of everyone. They called my parents and sent me home early forspeaking out of turn. When my mother arrived at school to get me, I was crying. I was scared. I couldn’t understand what I had done wrong to warrant such a harsh response.” Her face turns to stone. “My father came home that night in a rage, telling me I was an embarrassment. He grabbed me so hard, it left bruises on my arms.”

My vision goes red at the thought.

“From then on, I just…I rejected the idea of all of it. I wanted to cause as much noise as I could. I wanted to scream until they noticed I was the one hurting. I needed attention— needed support and love, and I needed to mean more to them than their reputations. I needed to mean more than status and success.” She looks at me, pain in her blue eyes. “And I never did. It’s like… I went to one end of the spectrum and Darby went to the other. She tried to make up for all the noise I caused by beingquiet and timid and perfect until both of us were so fucked up, there was no way to fix it.”

“I’m glad you both made it out of that environment.” That's all I can say. There aren’t words for the kind of hatred I have for men like her father, and I fear if I allow myself to say anything more, I’ll end up disclosing just how much I want to kill him.

She nods. “Me too. I knew…I knew after I got pregnant—which was not a cry for help, just a genuine misuse of birth control—that they’d never be the parents I needed. That, even if I didn’t, my child sure as hell would deserve more than they could ever give.”

She shudders with something like pain and fear, so I give her the only thing I can offer to help settle the storms raging in her ocean eyes. “You both deserve better, and you’re already giving her that.”

Soft freckles dance across her nose as she smiles at me, resembling something like the sunrise after a hurricane.

10

Wildflower

I Bought A Monstera

“I want to carryit!” Lou exclaims loudly as we finish crossing the street.

I squat down, maneuvering the monstera plant into her hands. “Careful. Hold it from the bottom.” The damn thing is nearly as big as she is, and I know she can’t see where she’s walking through the leaves covering her face.

She wobbles slightly but steadies herself, determined. I place my hands on her shoulders and steer her toward the boardwalk. We slowly make our way to the back entrance to Heathen’s. I finally told Lou I’d be starting my new job this coming Monday after Leo and Darby return home from their travels this weekend. I told her I’d have my own private office—something my father never granted me when I worked for him—and she was elated about it, demanded to see what it looked like.

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