Page 8 of Wicked & Wildflower

He’s probably a model,I tell myself.Or another surfer friend.

I’m sure I’ll never see him again.

The gnawing, prickling sensation in my gut tells me I’m wrong, though.

I realize for the first time that I had stopped speaking mid-sentence, and the cashier has been staring at me blankly for God knows how long.

“Um, who is that?” I ask, pointing at the photo above the desk.

He looks behind him. “Oh, that’s—” The bell on the front door chimes as it opens, distracting the employee.

“Dahlia.”

I jump at the voice, boxes of brownies falling to the ground. That familiar voice, like a caress of recurring nightmares. It echoes through the chamber in my chest, my past and present morphing together in the worst possible way.

Breath stalls in my lungs, and I become a true statue as I feel his presence at my back.

Too many things are happening at the same time. My mind is going blank. I squeeze my eyes shut, afraid to turn around. Willing him away. Willing him out of my existence.

He can’t be here. He isn’t here.

“Dahlia.” His harsh tone rings through my consciousness again, clear as haunting bells.

I summon all the courage I have left and turn around to face Dane Andrews.

“Why?” is the only word out my mouth.

Why are you doing this to me?

Why can’t I escape you?

I thought I was safe here.

“What do you mean ‘why?’” His jaw is set, eyes crazed. He steps toward me, and I step back into the counter. “You know exactly why. You ignore my calls and run away? You don’t have the right. I’ve been searching for you. Had to follow youhere.” Disgust drips from his tone as he spits the words.

“How did you find us?” My voice is hollow.

My father has never frightened me physically, but mostly because I think he has never had to resort to it. He doesn’t lose his temper or lash out in fits of rage. He’s far too composed. Everything he does is calculated and planned. He uses words to cut and blow and destroy. He knows he could slash me far deeper with his voice than with his hands.

This was supposed to be a fresh start, a way to escape that forever.

But he’s here. And I’m alone.

Because everything he does is calculated. He waited until my sister was gone, until he knew I was by myself in an unfamiliar town with nobody to protect me—not the way Darby has Leo to protect her—before he came for me.

My parents have never loved me or my daughter, but they shrouded us in a veil of money and power. That made him feel entitled to me, and more terrifyingly, to Lou.

The only thing more potent than my fear of him is my love for her.

So, I stand up straight and approach him. I’m tall at five-foot-ten, and he’s almost exactly my height. I used to shrink myself beneath him when I was a teenager, but now, I lift my head and stretch my neck.

“How did you find us?” I ask again.

“My daughter runs off from her wedding with some D-list celebrity athlete. It’s not hard to figure out where she went. Then, you disappear after that shit you pulled a few weeks ago? It wasn’t a stretch to assume you followed.” He sneers. “Darbyfinds herself a millionaire, Lord knows you’ll be riding those coattails.”

Bile burns my throat as I swallow. His words slash through my soul like a flaming blade.

I’ve forgotten the brownies on the ground, forgotten the cashier standing behind me and the fact that this is supposed to be my workplace soon. I’ve forgotten why I’m even here, and I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the need to leave. I need to pick up my child. I remind myself that she’s safe with Monica, down at the beach not far from here, but I won’t feel okay again until she’s in my arms and nowhere near his.

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