Page 82 of Wicked & Wildflower

Thoughts filter to my sister. The affection my mom placed on Leo and I didn’t seem to leave its mark on Elena. I think her love language was silent giving. Necklaces she made us, palm readings, or in depth analysis of our birth chart. Poems she’d slip beneath our doors in the middle of the night, ones she’d write about being bonded, protected, and accepted. Her love was in her written words.

Until it wasn’t.

Until love became so foreign to her that the words died with it. The act of love, the gift of it, ceases to exist. There are no more poems, no more books. She hardly remembers to call and check in, and as much as I want to be angry at her for it, I know it’s happening because she’s broken.

Because for Elena, the word love was always a question.

And all the answers died with Zach.

“Good morning,” Dahlia chimes, breaking me from my thoughts. She’s followed into the office by two reps from Dawn Patrol, and Leo’s agent, Lynn. “Are we ready to get started?”

Leo and I stand, greeting everyone and shaking hands before we all take our respective places around the table. Dahlia sits across from me, flashing a closed lip smile before diving into her presentation. As I watch her speak, I realize that as much as I want to be angry at her, I can’t. She has been broken too.

A half-hour later, Dawn Patrol is deep into their proposal, and I’m attempting not to fall asleep. They’ve been going back and forth with Lynn negotiating Leo’s commission. They argue that Leo’s pending retirement devalues him, while Lynn attempts to argue that his value has increased since his announcement, thathis decision to settle down and start a family has made him more relatable and personable.

When they finally settle on a number, the Dawn Patrol rep dives directly into design aspects and which products will be featured throughout the campaign. My eyes grow heavier.

“I’m sorry,” Dahlia interrupts, her sweet voice snapping me awake. “Are we not going to discuss Everett’s commission for this campaign as well?”

Everyone looks at her like she has grown three heads, including me.

Lynn clears her throat, leaning in and saying quietly to our half of the table, “Leo is being commissioned for his personal brand, his name and likeness. He’ll be inputting additional time into the campaign. Photoshoots, interviews, and so on.”

Dahlia cocks her head, and instead of addressing Lynn, she turns her attention to the Dawn Patrol representatives, whose names I can’t remember. “Why isn’t Everett, as the co-owner of Heathen’s, being asked to participate in the campaign as well?”

One of them, a round, bald man who appears to be in his fifties, straightens his tie. “Well…” He coughs. “Excuse my…my bluntness…” I hold up my palms to let him know I won’t be offended by whatever he has to say next. I’ve heard it all before. “Leo Graham is a household name, a living legend in the name of surfing. Everett is…”

“The other half of this company?” Dahlia snaps. “The person keeping it afloat every time Leo jets around the world? Everett is the person who has stood by Leo since before he wasLeo Graham. Who housed him when he was orphaned and let him borrow surfboards when he had nothing. Who sat out on the waves with him every day so he could become the living legend you speak of.” Dahlia’s jaw sets, eyes wild with emotion. “There would be noLeo Graham, and no Heathen’s, if not for Everett Ramos.”

“Dal,” I whisper. “It’s fine—”

“No, it’s not.” She looks at me, and I see so much conviction in her gaze, I dissolve beneath it.She’s standing up for me.Turning to my brother, she murmurs, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You’re completely right, Dal. In fact,” a slow grin spreads across his mouth as he turns to Lynn, “Everett’s cut matches mine, or I’m walking.”

“Leo,” Lynn hisses. Looking back at the bald man, she smiles tightly. “Can we have a moment?”

“No, I don’t need a moment,” my brother continues. “Everett will be included in all marketing for the campaign, and you’ll pay him whatever you pay me.”

“We simply don’t have the budget allocated to—” the other Dawn Patrol rep, a younger woman with dark hair and frown lines, begins.

“Then pay me less. Just make sure whatever you are paying me, my brother gets the same.”

Lynn’s face falls into her hands, but Dahlia is smiling proudly at Leo.

“Yes, well. Of course. We can figure out how to make that work.” The bald man begins rapidly sorting through papers before he glances up at us. “My main concern is the campaign. We planned on launching with a photoshoot of Leo in the line, and as I said before, he’s a household…”

“You’re telling me that if you took that man’s shirt off and plastered him on a poster, it wouldn’t catch attention?” Dahlia flutters a delicate hand in my direction. “They don’t need to know his name; they only need to look at him. I’ll bet he can sell anything Leo can.”

My brother laughs. “Your confidence in me is astounding, Dahlia.”

She smirks, giving him a side-long glance. “Not everyone likes a pretty boy.” Glancing back to Dawn Patrol, she shrugs. “You’d reach a wider audience that way.”

The two reps look at each other, raising their brows in silent conversation before the bald man nods once. He stands, extending his hand to me. “I think we’ve come to an agreement, then.”

I rise, returning the gesture. “Looking forward to it.”

I’m not, really. I’ve got no desire to model alongside my brother. He made me do it once before the shop opened. We had a photographer come take photos of us to hang up in the store, and I hated every minute of it. I don’t enjoy that kind of attention, and I don’t need money badly enough to beg for a cut of Leo’s deals. But watching Dahlia stand up for me like that, watching her believe I had the same value my brother has, awakened something inside me. I’ve always come second to him—until her. So, if she wants me to take this campaign on, then I’ll do that. For her.

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