18. Wildflower

18

Wildflower

Making Sure He Knows You're Mine

Parents are fucking mean.

I've never been one to fit in with a crowd, really. I had some surface-level high school friends. I thought I'd met my ride-or-dies in college when I fell in with Jason's group, but they all abandoned me once I got pregnant.

People I've never fit in with, though, are the school moms. I've always been a solid decade younger than the majority of them, and especially back home in Kansas, being Dane Andrews' black sheep daughter was like having a warning label on my forehead. I won't pretend I wasn't hopeful things would change once I got to Pacific Shores, but a lot of these people are just as catty, small-minded, and rude as those I dealt with back home.

It started with a parent-teacher night when I was repeatedly asked if I was Lou's sister or her aunt, followed by wide-eyed sneers when I confirmed that I was, in fact, her mother. Then, I showed up on the first day of school in Everett's Jeep, which is apparently well-known. Ever since, it has been cold shoulders and fake smiles, being left out of conversations or glared at across parking lots. I don't have any interest in befriending most of them anyway, but I can only hope their mean streak doesn't extend to their children, because Lou is loving it here.

She has made several friends, though she hasn't asked to see any of them outside of school yet. She doesn't seem concerned about it, so I pretend I'm not either. Today is her first soccer game, and she seems close with most of her teammates. My heart soars as I watch her excitedly run out onto the field and meet up with her friends.

Of course, it's just my luck that the girls she has grown closest with happen to have the moms who seem to make a hobby out of burning holes through the side of my face with their eyes. It's fine, though. Today, I brought reinforcements.

A group of parents huddle in a circle on the other end of the bleachers, stealing glances every few seconds, no doubt hyper-focused on the six-foot-something, tattooed mechanic hulking over me. I shift under Everett's arm draped around my shoulder, but I don't remove it. Being this close to him gives me comfort—something I'm afraid to admit to both him and myself.

It's been three weeks since we finalized our faux relationship agreement, two since the Hayes Foundation Banquet. I'd known Everett had a friend who died, but I hadn't realized how deep those cuts ran. I'm not even sure Leo knows just how affected Everett still is. After we danced, the night went on more smoothly. He seemed present, at least. I could tell Leo was struggling too, but when we got home that night, he went to bed with my sister. He wasn't alone. Leaving Everett by himself almost killed me, but with my daughter sleeping upstairs and his mother waiting up for us, I couldn't easily invite him to bed with me. Not to mention that having Everett Ramos anywhere near my bed is a detrimental idea.

I'd probably never let him leave it again.

Plus, Lou's getting increasingly comfortable having Everett around. We explained to her that we're friends, and we enjoy spending time together. Neither are lies, but to the adults of the world, we're putting off the air that much more is going on behind closed doors. While Lou may not understand all of that, she's still getting attached to him. Eventually, this fake relationship with Everett will end, and so will my situation with my dad and Jason. Either they'll finally go away and let us move on, which means Everett will move on too, or they'll win, and I'll have to take her back to Kansas.

Everett may always be around in some capacity. As her uncle's brother. As a friend. But eventually, space is going to exist between us, and I don't want Lou being hurt by that.

A snide cackle of laughter erupts from the circle down the field, pulling me from my thoughts. I glance over to find a group of parents snickering as their eyes flicker back and forth between them and myself.

"I don't know what I've done to be so offensive," I mutter under my breath.

"You're prettier than they are," Everett says immediately.

"It's okay. I'm Public Enemy Number One," Darby adds from my other side with a chuckle.

I rear back, turning beneath Everett's arm as I look at my sister. "You? The All-American golden girl? How could anyone ever possibly hate you?"

My sister scowls at me, and I wince. I've never been resentful of her, never blamed her for being the good girl, the perfect child, growing up. Rebelling was my way of protecting myself, and conforming was hers. I know she resents that, though, and I know she's still trying to find her way out of it, to figure out who she is.

"Sorry," I murmur.

"It's fine." She rolls her eyes at me. "But I'm not joking. The teller at the bank is rude to me. The barista at the coffee shop downtown always spells my name wrong, and I'm pretty sure she purposely messes up my orders. The owner of the antique store I love glares at me every time I walk through the door."

"Why?" I ask. "Didn't everyone here love Grandma? Didn't they love you when you spent that summer here years ago? What could you have done now?"

"She took Leo Graham off the market," Everett says next to me.

Leo lets out some kind of annoyed growl from next to him. "That's bullshit."

Everett laughs. "No, it's not." He turns sideways at the same time Leo does, the four of us forming our own little circle as we wait for Lou's game to start. "Leo was just starting to gain attention around the time Darby spent that summer here, but by the time he turned eighteen…" Everett lets out a low whistle. "Everyone in Southern California knew Leo Graham and that he'd be a legend."

Leo's cheeks heat as he dips his head bashfully. My sister glances up at him, beaming with pride.

"He was a hot commodity, but he was also like this sad little puppy. Everyone knew about the girl from that summer who broke his heart. Every girl in this town wanted to be the one to mend it." Leo lifts his head, glaring at his brother. Everett only shrugs. "It went on like that for years. Leo got more famous, made more money, and more women threw themselves at him. He dodged them all. Then, all of a sudden, he runs off to steal a bride on her wedding day?"

"It didn't happen like that," Leo mutters.

Everett laughs again. "You come back to town with that same girl from all those years ago, and you retire early just so you can spend all your time with her. You buy her a house, buy her a business, and ask her to marry you after a month together."

"Technically, my grandma bought the business," Darby chimes.

"Logistics." Everett waves his arm in the air. "Of course people are going to take time warming up to you. You got what so many others wanted for themselves, what parents wanted for their daughters. It's all small-town jealousy. It'll pass eventually."

My sister shrugs. "I'm not worried about it. I won anyway."

A slow grin creeps up on my cheeks. "That's my girl." The old Darby would hyper-focus on what others thought of her, would hate herself for the actions and opinions of others, even the things she couldn't control. I'm proud of the growth she achieved and the happiness she found. "But why are the parents at Lou's school being bitches to me, then? I didn't steal anyone's surfer boy wet dream."

Leo snickers. "No, just their tattooed, motorcycle Hercules one."

My jaw drops as I turn to look at Everett. His thick brows furrow, full lips pout, and deep brown eyes—almost amber in the sunlight—narrow as he scowls at his brother. "Trust me, I'm nobody's wet dream."

He's my wet dream.

I don't say that, though.

"Most of those people," I nod toward the group of parents, "are so much older than us, though. I thought that was why they didn't like me. Because I'm a trashy teen mom."

"You are not," Darby gasps. "Don't fucking say that shit about yourself."

The three of us gape at her. My sister rarely curses.

"Sorry," I murmur.

"I told you, Wildflower; it's because you're younger and hotter than them. They're jealous." Everett rolls his eyes when he adds, "Plus, the PTO is run by Tana Miller, and you know how she likes to hold a grudge."

Leo scoffs while my sister eyes him curiously. "Who is Tana Miller?" she asks.

"Oh, my dear Darby, I think you'd be more familiar with her younger sister." Everett smiles mischievously. "Amaya."

Darby's hazel eyes bulge.

"Who's Amaya?" I ask now, noticing the way my sister blushes.

"Amaya was Leo's first girlfriend," Everett continues, ignoring the glare from his brother. "She broke up with him because he wouldn't let her…deflower him. But even after they broke up, she still hung around, hoping he'd change his mind." He chuckles. "Until this one," nodding to my sister, "went ahead and announced to Amaya—in front of a house full of people—that while Leo was hellbent on protecting his virtue from her, Darby had gone ahead and laid claim to it after…what? Five minutes of knowing each other?"

Both of our siblings scowl at him.

I'm just shocked. "You shouted that you let Leo take your virginity in front of a house-party full of people?"

"No," Darby growls.

"She was drunk," Leo continues. "And she didn't tell everyone we had sex. She just implied that I prefer morning sex to evening sex." He smirks. "Which isn't a lie. She's very perceptive."

Darby avoids eye contact with me, blushing as she focuses on the field in front of us, suddenly real interested in a bunch of nine-year-olds kicking a soccer ball. Leo, sitting a row above her on the bleachers, pulls her back against him and plants a kiss in her hair.

I laugh, shaking my head at them. "Why would your ex-girlfriend's sister from five-hundred years ago care about me, though?"

"If someone hated your sister, even for an irrational reason, wouldn't you hate them too?" Everett asks.

"Of course," I say. "But I didn't deflower Leo Graham or whatever the fuck that girl is upset about."

"Amaya was queen bee, and Darby's the only person who ever stung her. She was embarrassed and hurt, I'm sure." Darby looks up at him with regret in her features as he brushes a thumb against her cheek. "You didn't do anything wrong, baby. She wasn't kind to you, and that was likely the first time in your entire life you ever stood up for yourself. Regardless, it probably stuck with her. She held a grudge." He shrugs. "Her sister is projecting those feelings onto Dahlia now. Just ignore them; they'll get bored eventually."

We're quiet for a moment as I think through what he'd said.

"Let's also not forget that you're probably getting death glares because the cougars love Everett, and I think some of the single ones secretly hoped they'd be the person to finally tie him down." Leo smiles.

Everett scoffs at that.

"Why cougars specifically?" I snort.

Leo shrugs. "He's kind of known to go after older women. And men, actually."

"Dude."

I laugh. "Well, shoot, maybe this," I wave my finger between us, "isn't as believable as we hoped it'd be."

I duck out from under his arm, but his strong hand grips around my waist and tugs me back to him. My skin lights on fire where his fingers splay across my midsection, searing me even through my t-shirt. Chills race down my spine at the feel of his hard body against my back, his breath against my ear.

Our arrangement doesn't require a ton of PDA. We go out to lunch a few times a week. Everett always holds my hand or places it at the small of my back. He hovers against me closely or tucks my hair behind my ear if someone he knows is watching. Sometimes, he'll brush his lips against my temple, but I know those moments aren't for show. Those are just for him.

Just like now, as he pulls me back beneath his arms and wraps both around my shoulders. He leans down and lets his lips tickle my cheek as he whispers, "You're older than me, so I think it works out great."

I crane my neck to the side as his breath trickles down my body. He takes the opportunity to tightly press his mouth against my throat, and I know he can feel my hammering pulse there. When his hands—his lips and his body—are against me, it's like the rest of the world fades out. I can tell myself he's doing this because of the parents standing nearby, but in reality, I savor this moment because I love the way he feels. He touches me like he's cherishing me, and God knows I'm fucking starved for it.

So I let his lips drag along my skin, just briefly. I bite back the moan I want to let out.

"By what? A year and a half?" I chide, though it comes out breathless.

"I don't discriminate, baby," he murmurs against my jaw before pulling away. "Plus," he says louder, clearing his throat, as if just realizing we're in public. A children's soccer game, no less. "I don't have a type. Well," he pauses, and it's almost like I can feel the smile I can't see as I stand in front of him, "at least not until I met you."

My sister's eyes widen. She watches me curiously, and I can't meet her gaze as I drop my head to hide my blush. A strange weight settles over all of us, like Everett may have just said something a little too real. Thankfully, before anyone can address it, a whistle blows from out on the field, and my daughter's soccer game begins.

We all watch from the bleachers as a bunch of little kids run around in circles on the field, chasing the ball. I don't know shit about soccer, but my eyes are only glued to my daughter anyway. She looks confused, and she trips over her own feet no less than three times, but she's laughing, and that's all that matters.

"Oh, by the way, Lou asked me if I would recruit the three of you to accompany us on Halloween." I sigh. "I think she's afraid of the other kids at school not inviting her, and she doesn't want to feel left out. Of course, I, as her mother, am not enough. She needs a whole crew to join her."

My sister giggles. "What does she want to go as?"

"I need y'all to say yes first."

The boys look at me with perplexed expressions. Hesitantly, all three of them mumble their confirmation.

"She wants to go as Ironman, and she wants us to be the rest of the Avengers."

"Oh God," Leo groans, and the same time, Everett mutters, "Fuck me."

Darby is cackling as she asks, "Do we at least get to choose who we dress up as?"

I give each of them my most apologetic smile. "Nope. She already decided."

We pause as the crowd cheers, but looking out onto the field, it appears the other team scored. Lou stands in the center of the field with her hands on her hips, looking concerned. Everett slips his thumb and forefinger into his mouth—I try to ignore how hot it looks as his tongue darts out between his lips—and lets out a deafening whistle.

Her little head snaps up, braids swaying side to side. He gives her a thumbs up, and even a field away, I can see her smile brightly at him. Something in my chest erupts at that.

"Alright," Leo says as we turn back to each other. "Lay it on us."

"She wants you to be Captain America."

He pops a brow as he nods. "Okay, that's not too bad."

"She wants Darby to be Hawkeye." I turn to Everett, attempting to hide my grin, because I know he's going to hate his costume most of all. "She wants you to dress as—"

"Don't even say it, Wildflower." He sighs. "I already know."

I chew on my lip. I know it's a lot to ask of each of them, which is a major part of the reason I've been trying to teach her boundaries. She has to realize that not everyone is going to be as invested as I am, though unfortunately, I think she's already well aware of that, after growing up with my parents and her dad. She just refuses to lose hope that she's going to find people in her life who'll drop everything to see her smile. I hate the idea that someday, she might be as hopeless as I am. I don't ever want to see that happen, but I can't expect everyone in her life to treat her like their own daughter. She has never had healthy relationships with anyone outside of me and Darby to witness as an example. She doesn't understand the role of aunt or uncle, doesn't understand the role of grandparent. I'm afraid that anyone who shows her the slightest glimpse of love and care, she's going to expect the world from.

And that's going to cause her a lot of heartache.

I told her I couldn't guarantee that the three of them would be able to join us, and I tried to convince her we'd still have fun on our own. Secretly, though, I hoped we could give her this experience. Every Halloween she's ever had was either just Lou, Darby, and myself, or some kind of church event my parents would drag us to. Someday, someday very soon, she won't want to trick-or-treat at all. I secretly hoped to give her one year where she felt totally in control, a year where she could make the night everything she wants it to be.

"So it's a no, then?"

Everett's face softens, and those eyes burn right through me, as if he can read every thought in my head and every expression on my face. "Of course not. You know I'll paint myself green for that kid if she asks me to."

Butterfly wings explode in my stomach, fluttering up through my chest. My throat goes tight and my eyes burn. I've never had anyone say that to me about Lou before, nobody besides my sister. I turn away, rapidly blinking back my tears before they can surface. This shouldn't be such a big deal to me, and I don't want anyone seeing the emotion on my face, seeing the effect those words—that care for her—has on me.

As if sensing that too, Everett's hand lightly lands on my thigh, drawing soothing circles over my jeans with his thumb. "I've just got one favor to ask."

"Yeah?" I say, attempting to keep my voice from cracking.

"Who're you dressing up as?"

"Black Widow."

I turn back to face him just in time to catch his smile. "That's what I thought." He bites his lip as his eyes dart down to my legs, slowly running the length of my torso before meeting my face again. "I'll be there, Wildflower, as long as I get to see you in some leather fucking pants."

My jaw drops as he flashes me that wicked grin that threatens to put me on my knees every time I see it. The way this man can bring me from the edge of tears to bursting with laughter in a matter of seconds is a whiplash I've never experienced before.

I can't help the giggle that bubbles through me, and Everett returns it with his own as he squeezes my thigh gently before turning back to the game.

We watch the rest of the half in comfortable silence, focusing mostly on Lou while my sister and I make idle small talk when she's not playing. Deep into the second quarter, my attention is snagged when the bleacher we're sitting on suddenly dips with the weight of someone stepping up it. We all turn to see Jeremiah—Everett and Leo's intern—climbing toward us.

"Thought that was you guys," he says, running a hand through the blond curls at the top of his head. "What are you doing here?"

I'm leaning against Everett's chest when I feel him tense. "Watching Dahlia's daughter play."

Jeremiah's brown eyes land on me, softening when he smiles. "I didn't know you had a daughter. Which one is she?" he asks, looking out to the field.

"Number eight. The blonde pigtails," I respond.

"She's cute," he says, turning back to us. "I'm watching my niece. She's number twelve on the other team." He points out the small brunette girl across the field. "My sister is sitting on the other side, but I thought I saw Everett's big ass body over here."

Everett's shoulders shake with his scoff, but he doesn't respond.

Jeremiah quietly greets my sister and Leo, who are wrapped in their own conversation, before taking the seat next to me.

Everett loops one large hand around my thigh and tugs me into him. His grip is a possessive warning, and I watch Jeremiah study where his palm spreads across my leg, the ink along his hands and the way his fingers flex beneath Jeremiah's stare, as if Everett's daring him to say something.

"Are you two—"

"Yes," Everett responds immediately.

God, why is jealousy so hot on him?

I swear I could've caught a glimpse of disappointment flash across Jeremiah's face, but it's gone just as fast. Everett is a brick wall next to me, and Jeremiah looks equally as uncomfortable, though I have no fucking clue what's going on.

Jeremiah clears his throat. "So, how are you liking work so far?"

"It's good. I'm enjoying it." Tilting my head toward the men next to me, I add, "They keep things interesting."

He snorts. "That's for sure."

Jeremiah and I make small talk for a little while, but I can feel the tension radiating off Everett next to me. As the conversation dies down, I lean against him and whisper, "What's your deal?"

"No deal."

"Don't lie."

Everett glances down at me, the corner of his mouth ticking up. "He came over here to make a move," he whispers. "Jeremiah knew you had a daughter, and I can guarantee you that dude has never shown up to a game of his niece's before. He was seeking you out. Didn't expect to find me." He slides his hand deeper down my thigh, nearly between my legs. My entire body shivers at the touch, and I know it caught Jeremiah's attention next to us. "I'm just making sure he knows you're mine."

"I'm pretending to be yours," I murmur. "And I doubt he's interested. He's just being nice because his bosses are around."

"Mhmm." Everett's breath is hot against my ear, his nose running the length of my neck until his mouth meets my collarbone. "Pretending." I feel his lips part, dragging slowly against my skin before his teeth nip at my flesh, tongue snaking out to soothe the sting.

"We're friends ," I bite out, holding back a moan. My body ignites beneath his touch and teeth and mouth.

"Friends," he muses, and I feel his smile against my neck. "Do all your friends make you squirt?"

My veins flood with heat, and he laughs again at the sound of my breath hitching. I can't help the flush of my cheeks and the tension in my core, the fixation on every place his body aligns with mine.

A throat clears next to me, bringing us back to reality. Eyes flying open, I look over at Jeremiah, who's still sitting next to us, jaw tight. My cheeks flush with embarrassment as Everett leans around me. "Sorry, man. Forgot you were there."

His eyes narrow. "Right. Well, I should get back to my family." He hikes a thumb behind him. "I'll see you guys Monday."

"See ya!" Everett tosses out, not bothering to make eye contact.

"Bye," I call before turning to Everett and slapping his chest. "You're such an ass."

"I'm an ass?" he deadpans. "That fucker was looking at my girlfriend like she's his next meal."

Leo snorts next to us.

I open up to yell at him some more—masking my lust with anger, because I'm trying to ignore the fact that I'm incredibly turned on—when the final whistle blows, signaling the end of the game.

We all gather our things and climb down the bleachers when Lou runs up to us after her team's post-game huddle. Her pigtail braids bounce at her shoulders as she closes the distance. Despite her team losing in a landslide, she's beaming when she stops in front of me and catches her breath. "You did so well today, bug," I chuckle into her hair, bending down to hug her.

She glances up at Everett as he holds out his hand and offers a high-five. She returns it, laughing as she says, "I heard you whistle at me from so far away."

"You did great, kid."

"Thanks, Evo." She smiles mischievously.

He frowns. "Hard pass."

Lou rolls her eyes, ignoring him. "Can you teach me to whistle like that?"

"As long as you never call me Evo again."

She lets out an exasperated sigh. "Fine."

My sister steps up behind Lou and ruffles her hair. "Good job, Lulu. You were awesome out there."

My daughter talks animatedly about the game as we walk back toward the parking lot. There are multiple groups of parents and kids congregating by their cars as we reach Everett's, so when Lou isn't paying attention, chatting with a few of her teammates, he makes a very public display of mauling my neck before heading to his car.

With flushed cheeks and tingling toes, I corral my kid from her friends, not missing the sneers and silence of a handful of their parents. Lou ends up demanding to go home with Leo and Darby anyway, because I have to stop by the grocery store and she doesn't want to go.

Luckily, the two of them are fine with taking her, because I prefer to grocery shop alone. It's kind of therapeutic when you don't have a child hanging off the back of the cart asking for every box of sugary cereal and bag of chips in sight.

I reach my car, unlocking it and throwing my purse into the passenger seat. As I open my door, I catch sight of what appears to be a folded piece of paper underneath my windshield wiper.

Knowing that people are watching, I quickly grab it and shove it into my back pocket as I slip inside my car.

I wait until I'm home before I pull out the sheet and open it.

In sloppy handwriting scrolled across the page is a note:

TAKE THE TRASH BACK TO KANSAS.