I don’t even know her name.

She’d claimed she wanted nothing that could tie us together, but now, I’m wishing more than anything I had something that would.

3

Wildflower

Stress Baking

I stress bake.

This isn’t news to me. I’ve always known I bake when I’m overthinking, but as I stare down at the massive mixing bowl full of brownie batter and the clock on the microwave that reads one-thirty-four am, I realize it may be an issue.

The recipe I’m working off is supposed to make a dozen, but I quadrupled the measurements, and now, I’m wondering what the fuck I’m supposed to do with forty-eight brownies. I don’t even have enough pans to bake that many.

My eyes dart around the kitchen, taking in the mess of flour, sugar, and chocolate-covered utensils that accent my sister’s counters. I’m suddenly feeling very tired, and I don’t know what to do with all this batter, nor do I have the energy to clean up right now. I know, eventually, Monica is going to wake up, and I don’t need her seeing what a mess I am. She’ll start askingquestions about my date, and I don’t have the energy to go there right now.

I don’t know how to tell her that I ditched the guy she set me up with and fucked some random man in the office behind the bar before running away.

Sighing, I wrap the bowl of batter and throw it in the fridge before I begin loading the sink with dishes. At the very least, Darby and Leo are out of the country, so they won’t know if I leave their dishes sitting in the sink overnight.

I pull out my phone, wondering if now would be a good time to call my sister. I think it’s got to be mid-morning in Portugal, so she’s probably awake, though I’m not sure if I want her to start asking why I’m up this late.

I notice three more missed calls from my dad, plus another text message. He’s getting more aggressive, more desperate, demanding Darby and I return his correspondence. I roll my eyes, deleting the text before even reading it. There is a message from my sister sent a few hours ago, likely when she first woke up but assumed I was still asleep.

Dad called me again.

Me too.

You don’t think he’d come here, do you?

She replies immediately:

Leo says he doesn’t think so. Dad’s too intimidated by him.

I chuckle at that, clamping a hand over my mouth as it rings out through the silent house. It’s not even because I disagree;Leo’s probably right. He’s likely the only person who has ever told my father to fuck off straight up and gotten away with it. Everything in my dad’s life is categorized by money and status, and Leo has an abundance of both—more than my father could ever dream of achieving. He stole my sister away from her own wedding and humiliated our family, and when my dad demanded Leo bring Darby back, he essentially told my dad to go fuck himself then anonymously bought my grandmother’s house out from under him.

My father has never been served like that, and if I were him, I’d stay as far away from Leo as possible. That knowledge gives me an additional kernel of faith that Pacific Shores is the one place on Earth where my sister and I are safe.

My phone buzzes with another message from Darby:

I can’t imagine why he’d bother to come after us anyway.

I know exactly why he’d come after me, exactly what he wants from me. But Darby doesn’t, so I confirm her claim and tell her I’m going back to sleep before she can ask why I’m awake at this hour in the first place.

My goal was always to get out from under my parents, to leave and start over somewhere new, but my sister’s abrupt move to California earlier this summer kind of catapulted that timeline. I couldn’t stand remaining in Kansas without her, so the moment I could get Lou and I out, I followed her to Pacific Shores.

Though, due to the messy timeline and lack of planning on my end, Lou and I ended up rolling into Pacific Shores just days after my sister and her fiancé, Leo, left for a surf competition in Portugal, meaning I moved into my grandmother’s—well, technically it’s Leo’s now—house with my daughter, not knowing a single soul in this town.

A few days after settling in with our things, Leo’s adoptive mom, Monica, showed up with dinner and introduced herself. Lou immediately became smitten, and I couldn’t blame her for it. Monica’s cool as hell. Plus, I think she’s a little lonely with Leo and Darby gone. Her daughter, Elena, lives in New York and doesn’t visit often. Apparently, when Leo told her he’d reconnected with Darby after ten years and they’d be getting married next spring, she was elated. She immediately took Darby in like a daughter—which was great, given that our own mother has never been particularly nurturing—and it now appears that extends to me and my daughter too.

Monica has taken us around town, helped me get Lou registered at the elementary school nearby, and has even started apartment hunting for me. Leo got me set up with a job that I’ll be starting once he returns from Europe and I get Lou settled at school. After one particularly late night and a few too many margaritas after Lou went to bed, I explained my dating history to Monica, who then decided I was far too young, hot, and smart to be so accepting of my single status. Now, her goal is to help me find a boyfriend.

I didn’t have the heart to explain my deep-seeded trust and daddy issues, so I played along, thinking it was something she’d forget. I wasn’t expecting her to inform me that she set me up with the son of a friend of a friend—because apparently, everyone in this town knows everyone—and she would be babysitting.

I was adamant on not going, but when she showed up at the house this evening and demanded I leave, I couldn’t say no. At the very least, I looked forward to the opportunity to get out of the house and feel like an adult for a little while.

That date ended up going sideways when I walked away on the arm of a stranger, fucked him in the back office, and scurried out like a sewer rat. I didn’t even have a ride home, so I ran aroundthe backside of the building while I called my Uber, afraid that the gorgeous man whose name I never learned would come looking for me.