Page 75 of Wicked & Wildflower

Because he has no idea that his aggressive behavior could have instilled a sense of fear in me, just because he never physically laid a hand on me. It’s the same thought process my dad has: it’s not abuse if you’re not touched. Men like them have no idea how many different ways you can abuse a person—not just their body, but their mind. Their spirit.

“I know,” I say anyway. Turning to Everett, I add, “We’re almost done talking, and then I’ll come find you.”

His eyes rapidly dance back and forth between mine and the phone on the counter, assessing the situation. I can tell it pains him. He wants to push, demand to stay, and it has nothing to do with authority or power or possession over me. It’s simply protection. He doesn’t trust the man I’m speaking to. But rather than fighting me on it, he accepts my decision, taking a step back.

“I’m okay, Everett.” I lean up to press a kiss to his warm cheek, keeping my hand on his hard chest. “I promise.”

He cups the back of my head, holding me against him a moment longer. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

It’s silent until Jason hears the sliding door slam in the background. “Never going back to Kansas because of your sister, right?”

“I’m never going back to Kansas for a lot of reasons.”

“And he’s one of them?” Jason asks.

There’s nothing fake about the way I say, “He might be.”

He’s silent for a moment before he finally says, “I know you think you’re hiding away out there, Dahlia, but trust me, you’re not that hard to find. Next time someone tells you to come back home, you should consider listening.”

The line goes dead before I can respond.

25

Wildflower

All Three Of Us

“He loves her, youknow,” my sister says, leaning over the porch rail as we look out into the backyard.

Despite it being late January, the sky is bright blue, broken up by only the occasional floating cloud. It’s not warm, per se, but holding the party outside was doable. The view from my sister’s backyard is stunning. The property backs up to a cliff’s edge, lined with lavender bushes that are already beginning to bloom. The deep blue horizon line stretches out far beyond us, clashing with the sky.

It’s normally a peaceful place. Darby and I will sit out on my grandmother’s old porch swing on Sunday mornings, drinking coffee and listening to the crashing of the waves.

Today, however, the view is obstructed by two massive bounce houses, hollering children, the smell of carne asada—from the tortas Everett’s friend Emilio cooked for the party—and thepounding of music. Mostly Taylor Swift, per my daughter’s request.

My conversation with Jason had me shaking, on the verge of tears. I don’t know if what he said was a threat or a warning. I don’t know if he has something to do with my father. I don’t know anything at all. My life is utter chaos, and I feel like nobody sees that but me.

I’m out here in the middle of the ocean, drowning, flailing my arms and screaming for help, but no one can hear me, and my haunted past is pulling me under.

Registering my sister’s words, I drag my eyes to the bounce-house shaped like a castle, following her gaze where it rests upon the two people inside it. Lou sits cross-legged in the middle of the space while Everett jumps around her on all sides, attempting to lift her as high as possible.

He’s the one person who seems to be holding onto my life vest—who seems to breathe oxygen back into my water-filled lungs.

The sound of Lou’s laughter filters above all else, floating through the air and bringing a smile to my cheeks.

“She’s hard not to love,” I respond.

“So are you.” I glance at Darby, her hazel eyes fixed on my face. “I think he might love you too.”

I scoff. “You’re insane.”.

“Look at all he does for you. For her. You can’t convince me there isn’t something there.”

There is definitely something here. A mutual attraction, absolutely. But love? Ridiculous.

“It’s an arrangement, Darby. He does these things—dates me—for appearances. He’s getting something out of it too. It’s an agreement, that’s all.”

My sister lets out an unconvinced hum. “You really believe that?”

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