Page 43 of Wicked & Wildflower

Leo shakes his head. “No. But the way you speak to her sometimes—the flirting—it’s like you’re playing games. She cannot be played with that way, Everett.”

I stop in the middle of the lobby. The girls continue walking ahead of us, oblivious to what’s going on, but Leo pauses too, turning to look at me with concern on his face.

“You know Dahlia as Darby’s sister. You see her for what she’s gone through and what she’s struggling with. You want to protect her, and I love you for that.” My brother crosses his arms as I step into him. “But I met Dahlia and only knew her for exactly whosheis. Have you ever considered that she might want a break from being someone’s sister? Someone’s mom? The daughter of a fucking psychopath? Have you ever thought that maybe she just needs a safe place to breathe? To play? That maybe I’m trying to be that for her? I’m not trying to fuck and forget her, Leo.”

My brother flexes his jaw, eyes boring through mine, but he doesn’t know what to say.

“Don’t you try to be that for Darby too? Make her laugh and give her a safe place to escape the rest of the world?”

Leo’s eyes flash with something unrecognizable before he dips his chin in a shallow nod. “But Darby is going to be mywife. She’s not a meaningless one-night-stand.”

And that’s it for me. An unexpected wave of jealousy slams right into my gut, almost causing me to stumble backward. I pull myself together and walk past my brother without another word. It’s not that I’m jealous of him and Darby; I’m just jealous of what they have.

I’m also angry at his insinuation that Dahlia means nothing to me, or that I mean nothing to her. Nothing about what happened between us was meaningless—even if we intended it to be. For me, it happened before I ever learned her name. She’d taken root in my mind the second she sat down next to me at that bar. After that night, all I could think about was how badly I wished there was some way I could find her again. If I could locate the tiniest thread between us, I’d hold on with everything I had until she was pulled into my life again.

Then, suddenly, there she was.

I don’t know if I believe in fate. I’ve never wanted something bad enough to care if it was destined or not. But I remember watching Dahlia run out of that bar and wanting nothing more than to have something—anything—to tie me to her again, only to find her standing in the center of my business, needing my help. I find out she lives with my brother, that she works for me, as if the universe took every tiny string and created a massive knot, placing me right at the center of it. I’m entirely caught up in her, entwined, and I don’t want to be untangled.

“Everett.” My brother’s on my heels, calling my name as he catches up to me. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I…just be careful, yeah?”

I look at him, and I hate the caution I see on his face. I suppose I don’t have the best track record to back me up, but I’ve never intended to hurt a single person in my life. I try my hardest tobe easy-going and fun. It’s all I’ve fucking got to offer. I don’t have my sister’s intelligence or creativity. I don’t have Leo’s God-given talent or business-savvy mindset. I don’t have a whole lot to offer anyone, nothing but myself. For the first time, I consider the fact that maybe I’ve gotten used to leaving someone before they realize that nothing but myself isn’t enough.

For the first time, I realize that I don’t want to leave Dahlia before she notices that. I just want to figure out a way to be enough for her.

So, I don’t say anything more to my brother as I nod and head toward her like she’s a beacon. She’s calling to me. She needs me. I’ve never been needed before. I finally have something to offer her, and I’m going to make damn sure I give her every bit of it she deserves.

There is a small red carpet set up outside the ballroom, a handful of photographers and reporters snapping photos as people enter. A few high-profile athletes are in attendance, and some celebrities, including Leo’s friend, Milan, a socialite and influencer whom I make note to introduce Dahlia to later. As my brother and I catch up to the girls, a worker for the event explains how we’ll each walk down the carpet to allow for photos before entering the room, and that the four of us are sitting together at a table toward the front.

Dahlia looks at me with wide, scared eyes. I place a hand at the small of her back and give her hip a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll let Leo and Darby go first,” I chuckle. “That way, we can just copy what they do.”

“Who’s even going to want to take photos of us, anyway? We’re not famous.”

I laugh because I get it. I hate doing this kind of stuff too. Leo isn’t addicted to the spotlight, but he doesn’t mind it. The attention comes naturally to him, always has. I feel like Darbymight feel the same way, because she’s calm and cool, if not a little excited. Dahlia’s like me, though.

“Isn’t that the point of thisdate, Dahlia?” I wink. “We’re supposed to be seen together. Plus, it’s not just for the celebrities. Sadie and Alex use these photos for the Foundation website and to promote other events they put on. It helps.”

She takes a deep breath, nodding. They call my brother and Darby up, and the cameras start flashing wildly. Reporters are shouting questions over each other. Even though Leo is the household name, he ushers Darby in front of him with a hand on her back like she’s the star to be gushed over.

If she’s nervous, it doesn’t show. She walks with confidence and a soft smile to the center of the carpet, pausing as photos are taken. My brother saddles up next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist. Darby smiles at the cameras, but Leo’s eyes are on her, like she’s brighter than all of it. A reporter asks for a look at Darby’s ring, and she simply turns sideways, placing her left hand at the center of Leo’s chest. The reporters go wild at that, and my brother chuckles, pressing his lips to Darby’s forehead. He snakes his arm farther around her body, tugging her in tighter. His hand grips just at the curve of her ass, a borderline inappropriate gesture, but his way of telling the rest of the world that she’s all his.

The event staff wave them off the red carpet, and suddenly, it’s our turn. Dahlia looks up at me with unsure eyes, and I’m brought back to that timid woman who stared after me with those same bright baby blues the night I met her, the woman who wanted me to take control and guide her.

Dahlia’s got confidence, or at least, she appears to at work and with her daughter. She’s independent, used to being on her own and doing everything herself. These tiny moments of vulnerability that she tries to hide from the rest of the world—I see them. She’s unsure about this, not confident, and she has never had someone to pick that up for her before.

So, I do what I think she needs at this moment, and I take over. Grasping her hand, I lead us onto the red carpet, her eyes on me as cameras begin flashing around us. I pause at the center, and it’s not as wild as it was when Leo was up here. Still, the attention is on us for this brief moment. I know Dahlia’s hating it as much as I am.

I pull her in front of me, wrapping an arm around her waist. Her hand rests at the small of my back, the top of her head just below my mouth. Her entire body is rigid, so I brush my thumb against the fabric on her hip. Leaning forward until my lips meet the shell of her ear, I whisper, “You don’t have to look at them, Wildflower. You can look at me.”

I keep my eyes up, smiling at the cameras, but I know Dahlia’s head snaps sideways. I can feel her gaze boring through me, and her body softens slightly. I tighten my grip on her, knowing the gesture appears possessive. Allowing my mouth to brush against her neck, I whisper again, “You know, they say you’re supposed to imagine everyone naked during shit like this, but I think if I tried doing that, I’d only end up imagining you naked—maybe in nothing but those heels—and I’d really embarrass myself here.”

I have no idea if that’s the right thing to say, if she’s going to get offended and I’m going to make her anxiety worse, or if that kind of joke is exactly what she needs to relax right now. I think back to what my brother said and wonder if he’s right—if I think I’m offering her some kind of reprieve, or if I’m only seeing it that way because I’m desperate to be around her, to make her want me as badly as I want her.

My stomach twists with anticipation as she pauses, but it quickly morphs into the rapid flap of butterfly wings when Dahlia’s mouth bursts with bright laughter. The flash of the cameras intensifies at the sound, and I find myself looking downat her, watching her face fall from pinched and nervous to carefree and open.

She catches her breath, meeting my gaze with grateful eyes. Something like pride blooms in my chest, sending warmth throughout my body.

We’re ushered off the carpet, and it’s Dahlia who grabs my hand now, interlacing our fingers and squeezing gently. “That was awful. Let’s never do that again.”

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