Page 50 of Wicked & Wildflower

“You did great, kid.”

“Thanks, Evo.” She smiles mischievously.

He frowns. “Hard pass.”

Lou rolls her eyes, ignoring him. “Can you teach me to whistle like that?”

“As long as you never call me Evo again.”

She lets out an exasperated sigh. “Fine.”

My sister steps up behind Lou and ruffles her hair. “Good job, Lulu. You were awesome out there.”

My daughter talks animatedly about the game as we walk back toward the parking lot. There are multiple groups of parents and kids congregating by their cars as we reach Everett’s, so when Lou isn’t paying attention, chatting with a few of her teammates, he makes a very public display of mauling my neck before heading to his car.

With flushed cheeks and tingling toes, I corral my kid from her friends, not missing the sneers and silence of a handful of their parents. Lou ends up demanding to go home with Leo and Darby anyway, because I have to stop by the grocery store and she doesn’t want to go.

Luckily, the two of them are fine with taking her, because I prefer to grocery shop alone. It’s kind of therapeutic when you don’t have a child hanging off the back of the cart asking for every box of sugary cereal and bag of chips in sight.

I reach my car, unlocking it and throwing my purse into the passenger seat. As I open my door, I catch sight of what appears to be a folded piece of paper underneath my windshield wiper.

Knowing that people are watching, I quickly grab it and shove it into my back pocket as I slip inside my car.

I wait until I’m home before I pull out the sheet and open it.

In sloppy handwriting scrolled across the page is a note:

TAKE THE TRASH BACK TO KANSAS.

19

Wicked

Paper Rings

Taylor Swift’s voice isdeafening as I step inside the house.

I shut the front door behind me and drop my green bodysuit on the dining room table—because lord knows I won’t be changing into that until the last second—as I walk through to the kitchen. Leo and Darby are out doing something for their wedding; I don’t remember what, but Dahlia is supposed to be home.

As I enter, I realize that it smells like hot chocolate. Not like the packaged one, but like someone heated melted chocolate and milk right over the stove—a warm, delicious, inviting smell.

But it’s not hot chocolate I find in the kitchen. It’s a fucking mess.

Dirty mixing bowls are scattered along the counter, sprinkles spilled across the floor. There are little brown balls coated inmulti-colored sprinkles laid out on wax paper-covered baking sheets. I think they might be the chocolate I was smelling.

Despite the chaos, the sight taking my breath away is the sway of Dahlia’s hips as she attempts to moonwalk across the kitchen floor, dancing to ‘Paper Rings’. Lou twirls around next to her, belting the lyrics into the chocolate-covered wooden spoon that she holds to her mouth like a microphone.

They’re both so entranced by the music and their singing that they haven’t noticed me enter the room, and I can’t do anything other than stare at them, entirely allured. Dahlia’s face is lit up with a carefree brightness that I’ve never seen on her before, like all her worries have been forgotten. She throws her head back, laughing as Lou wiggles to the floor and back up again.

She’s so unbelievably beautiful, it feels like a stab right through my chest.

The warmth in her face, the wild movement in her body, has me physically stumbling back and leaning against the wall, like my legs can’t bear to hold me up as I’m buried beneath the weight of her enchantment.

Because that’s what she is—fucking enchanting.

I don’t know how she could ever question her worth as a woman, her value as a mother, when that kid laughs and sings like she’s the happiest girl on Earth. I don’t know how Dahlia doesn’t see that the only thing Lou needs in this world is her. I don’t know how Dahlia doesn’t see that she’s enough.

The urge to capture this moment and save it forever is overwhelming, so I pull out my phone and take two pictures of them spinning around the room—they still haven’t noticed me—before sliding to record video. I capture the song playing, the light on their faces, and their god-awful singing.

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