Page 65 of Wicked & Wildflower

Leo thinks they’re both just too tied up in their own grief, but I think there’s something more. Before, they were inseparable, attached at the hip an understatement. It was like they spoke a language only the two of them could understand. None of us could come in between their friendship, not even Zach.

But after he died, the mere mention of each other’s names became nuclear.

“We’ll call Elena later,” I answer finally. August shoots me a grateful look.

The table goes back to awkward small talk, and when everyone’s finished eating, Darby and Leo begin clearing plates. Clean-up is their designated job, since neither of them can cook for shit and were of no help preparing dinner. I technically didn’t do anything either, but I’m hoping nobody will notice.

As their seats vacate, August offers to help them, and Lou scampers off into the kitchen to get pie for Dahlia and myself,although I’m fairly certain she just wanted a reason to follow August. I slide into her seat next to Dahlia, desperate to be closer to her. My parents are at the head of the table, chatting amongst themselves as they continue eating.

“So, what’s the deal with August?” she asks quietly.

I had a feeling the question was coming. “I don’t know the full extent of it. I know that the day Zach…” I sigh. “Elena said some things to him that made no sense. Still doesn't make sense to me. Neither of them will talk about it. Talk to each other.” I shrug. “I’m in as much of the dark as you are, but before Zach…they werebestfriends. I’d never seen two people closer.”

“That’s awful,” she murmurs. “And everything with his dad too? I can’t even imagine.” She’s quiet for a moment, brow furrowing. “How could anyone treat their own child like that?” She laughs cynically to herself. “Not sure I’m the one to be asking that question, actually.”

“You think your father would treat you that way too? If something so horrible had happened?”

Dahlia bites her lip, eyes going a bit hazy as she stares down at the table. “I mean…it’s not the same. It really isn’t. But…” She huffs. “After Darby left her wedding, my father blamed me. I told him I had sent Leo the letter. I was the reason he showed up in town. He told me I ruined his chances of ever getting to walk his daughter down the aisle, that I had taken that from him.”

“He has two daughters,” I mutter through clenched teeth.

“That’s what I said.” She laughs again, but it’s not genuine. “He told me he didn’t. He only had one in his eyes, that he’d felt that way for a while. That no good man would be willing to bother with me. That I was ruined, damaged goods. That any man who’d ever want to take that step with me wouldn’t be worthy of my father’s blessing anyway. Therefore, there was no reality in which I’d be walked down the aisle by him.”

I’m going to fucking kill this man.

I hate him. Disgust coats my throat at the thought of Dahlia having to endure those words, that pain, from someone who’s supposed to love her. I glance briefly at August as he re-enters the dining room and decide I hate his dad too. I hate any person who could make their own child feel that way.

Dahlia continues staring at the table, at her hands folded together in front of her. She’s completely unfazed by the things she’s saying, and I know it’s only because she’s numb after a lifetime of hearing it all. I place my hand over hers, brushing my thumb across her knuckles.

The touch seems to break her out of her haze as her head snaps up to look at me. I let myself drown in the oceans of her eyes, hoping she sees the sincerity in my own. “You’re worthy, Dahlia. You’re worthy of everything.”

And my words seem to open some kind of gate inside her, because that numbness disappears, and I watch those beautiful, bright blue eyes fill with tears. She blinks hard, willing them away, but one escapes. Cascading down her soft cheek in slow motion. I reach out and catch it with my thumb. Nuzzling her face into my hand, Dahlia closes her eyes and lets out a shaky sigh.

We stay like that a while longer, letting her take whatever comfort she finds in my touch. Only the pitter-patter of small footsteps hurling through the dining room is enough to pull her away from me. She smiles at her daughter as Lou sets two slices of pie on the table in front of us, her own face smothered in chocolate.

“Thanks, Luz.” I smile at her.

She huffs. “I’ve come up with all these cool nicknames for you, and you hate them. The only one you can come up with is Luce? I wanted a better one, Everett.”

She climbs into one of the chairs across the table from me and leans over it, dipping her finger through the whip cream on her mom’s slice of pumpkin.

“It’s notLuce, like short for Lucille. It’sLuz. L-U-Z. It meanslightin Spanish.”

Both of the girls turn their heads to me, surprise on their faces.

I only smile wider. “Because you’re like a burst of light, all bright and warm. You’rela luz.”

Lou’s cheeks redden, and she hides her face behind her hair. “Oh, okay. That’s a good one, then, I guess.”

“You guess?” I laugh.

She shrugs, but I can see her coy smile through the curtain of her hair. I turn to her mother, but Dahlia’s speechless, staring at me with emotion on her face, fighting back the tears once more. I place my hand back over hers, whispering against her ear, “She’s the light, and you’re all the colors, Wildflower.”

Dahlia and I didn’t talk much more after that. After Leo and Darby finished the dishes and all the dessert was devoured, we sat around the table and played an extremely heated game of Monopoly, which resulted in my brother nearly flipping the table with his over-competitive, dramatic ass.

A phone call from my sister had August on edge the rest of the night, and he decidedly had to use the bathroom at that exact moment. Now, August is quiet, my dad is drunk and bellowingGeorge Strait in the kitchen, and Lou is quite literally passed out face down at the kitchen table.

Dahlia rubs her back where she sits between us, and some kind of strange contentment rushes through me at the sight. It’s like sitting here, with the two of them, is where I’ve always been meant to be.

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