Page 98 of Wicked & Wildflower

Wicked

All My Nights, Preferably.

I’m pulled from thebest sleep I’ve had in years—maybe ever—by the sound of rustling and a prolonged groan. I crack one eye open, adjusting to the darkness. In the moon-lit room, I can make out Dahlia’s form sitting up in bed, and as I raise my head, I find her beautiful face cast in the blue light of her phone.

She’s frowning, sliding a thumb across her screen and holding it to her ear. “Hello?”

I shuffle next to her, rising up on an elbow and catching her attention. Even in the muted colors of the night, Dahlia’s blue eyes are bright as stars. Her brows are pinched, and she chews on her lip nervously as she studies my face.

Everything okay?I mouth.

She shrugs, eyes going unfocused when she zones back into the conversation. “Hi, Amy. Is everything okay?”

Her leg is bouncing up and down, and my stomach twists in knots as I try to think of ways to quell her anxiety. She’s bitingher nails while she listens to who I assume is the mother of Lou’s friend. I run my hand up and down her thigh, halting her trembling limbs.

She sighs at my touch, and I take it as a sign to sit up and wrap my arm around her shoulder as she leans against me. I can faintly make out the woman’s voice while she explains that Lou supposedly had a bad dream and wanted to come home early from her sleepover.

I have no fucking clue what time it is, but it has to be early. Dahlia and I fell asleep sometime just before midnight. Once I was on my knees in the shower with her, my head found its way back between her legs again, and I didn’t come up for air until she was coming on my tongue. After that, she had her way with me, mouth like fucking heaven around my cock as water pounded against my chest. I’ll never be able to get the way she looked—soft, pink lips, bright eyes, and skin wet and smooth as she sucked the soul from my body—out of my head.

When we finished, I changed the sheets while she got ready for bed, and then we laid together, watching stupid movies and talking about nothing. It felt…easy, like it was always meant to be this way. It felt like something I could do every night for the rest of my life, and even if it became inconsequential—routine—I’d never grow tired of it. I’ll never be bored with Dahlia—listening to her speak, watching her laugh. Something about her feels etched into my bones, like I found something I didn’t know I was searching my entire life for.

I’ve always thought Pacific Shores was home to me, but now, I wonder if it’s just where I live. Because falling asleep beside her… That was the first time in my life I’ve felt that soul-deep belonging I think truly bears the meaning of the word. She feels like home.

“I’m so sorry.” Dahlia sighs, breaking me from my train of thought. “I’ll head over to get her right now.” She looks at methen, and I realize the moisture welling up in her eyes as she nods, says goodbye, and ends her call.

“What’s going on, Wildflower?”

She raises a shaking hand to her face, wiping away her tears before they have a chance to fall down her cheeks. “It’s not a big deal,” she says. “I don’t know why I’m overreacting. Lou just decided she wanted to come home.”

“What time is it?” I ask.

“Just after four.” She throws the blankets off her legs and stands out of bed, rummaging around the room rapidly as she searches for clothes. “She had a bad dream, or so she says. She never has bad dreams.” Dahlia hops on one foot as she pulls a pair of underwear up her legs. “I shouldn’t have let her stay the night somewhere. I should’ve known she wasn’t ready for that.” Her voice cracks, and I know she’s fighting back tears again. “Or maybe I shouldn’t have coddled her so much.”

“Baby, don’t cry.” I don’t know what to do, how to help her. “Do you want me to go get her?”

She pauses, almost like she’s contemplating it, before shaking her head and grabbing a sweatshirt from her closet. “No. That would just confuse her.”

“Do you…Do you want me to leave?” I ask as she pulls her hoodie on. When her head pops out of it, I see devastation on her face, and then she crumbles entirely. Her face falls into her hands, and her shoulders shake with silent tears. I’m jumping out of bed and rounding her room, tugging her against my chest. “Dahlia. Baby,” I hush her. “What’s going on?”

“This is so stupid,” she cries into my neck.

“What’s stupid?”

She shakes her head. “I feel horrible.”

I’m so fucking confused. I’m sure she’s tired—groggy and confused, worried about Lou. It’s not an ideal ending to our firstnight together, but I don’t know what’s got her in tears or feeling bad about it.

“It’s okay, Dal. We’ll have more nights together.”All my nights, preferably.

She sighs, stepping back from my arms and wiping at her eyes. I watch as her mask falls into place. The vulnerability that she still only gives me glimpses of disappears. “I don’t want you to leave,” she says firmly. “But I’m not ready for her to see you spending the night here.”

“I understand.” She moves her head to nod, but I’m quicker. Taking her face between my hands, I add, “But I need you to stop hiding from me. I need you to tell me how you feel right now and let me help you work through it. You’re done bottling that shit up.”

I prepare myself to watch those walls lock into place, for her to become stubborn and guarded like I’m used to. There is a hardness to her features that makes me believe she’s about to do exactly that, but instead, she softens, nuzzling her cheek against my palm. “I…” She takes a breath, and I think she’s about to say something, but she must think better of it, because she pulls away. “I’ve really got to go get her.”

“Alright.” I swallow, allowing her space to step back and slip on her shoes. “I’m going to stay, though. I’ll keep out of the way and make sure she doesn’t see me when you get home, but I’d like to stay. I want to be here for you when you get back.” She looks up from her feet, and I watch her throat work as she contemplates what I’ve just said. “Please let me be here for you, Dahlia.”

Whatever thread of resolve she was hanging onto seems to snap, because her eyes go soft and misty, her lips tremble, and she gives me a slight nod before slipping out her bedroom. I listen to her descend the stairs and grab her keys, leaving through the front door.

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