24. Wildflower

24

Wildflower

A Whole Damn Village

My stomach twists as my phone lights up with a call where it rests on the counter while I finish frosting Lou's birthday cake.

When I asked her what flavor she wanted, she couldn't decide. So I ended up with a three-tiered cake: a bottom chocolate layer, a middle lemon and vanilla layer, and a top layer of red velvet. "For the adults," she'd said.

She was adamant that she did not want a theme for her party this year, as she was too old for that . She wanted pink, white, and gold decorations, and she wanted the party outside. She also wanted face painting but vehemently refused a clown. Being born in late January, Lou has never had an outdoor birthday party before. Kansas winter wouldn't allow for it. I wanted to make this one as special as possible, her first birthday in California and away from her old friends—not that she had many of them.

She has been fitting in well at school, has a handful of classmates attending her party today. My heart soared when she asked me to pick up invites for her to pass out to her friends, and I nearly cried when I saw that every single person she invited had RSVP'd. I think she's secretly nervous, which is why she has been so unable to make decisions regarding the party.

Darby and I have done as much as we can to make it the best birthday she's ever had.

Though the biggest hindrance to today's success is calling now. I sigh, setting my knife on the counter and sliding my thumb across the screen to accept the call before wedging my phone between my shoulder and my ear. I don't want anyone to hear that Jason's calling me, because I haven't decided if I want to let him talk to his daughter yet.

She and Darby are out buying snacks now, anyway, but should be home soon. Everett and Leo are setting up the bounce houses we plan on surprising Lou with in the backyard.

"Hi," I huff into the phone as I answer.

"Hi, Dally." His tone is warm as the familiar nickname rolls off his tongue. "I know I said I'd call later today after her party, but I was hoping I could speak with you first."

Jason hasn't spoken to his daughter in years, but he has been checking in via text message regularly since we moved. His sudden reappearance and concern with her wellbeing coinciding with a new alliance with my father isn't lost on me.

Which is why I've been hesitant to tell Lou her father is suddenly calling, and why I haven't let her speak to him. He began getting worked up over it around the holidays, so I bought myself time by agreeing to let him video call her on her birthday—after her party, so there is no chance of it being ruined.

"What's going on?" I ask.

He's quiet for a moment, as if contemplating what to say. "I just wanted a moment to tell you I'm sorry for how I reacted when I found out you left, for how I've been acting ever since."

"You mean like how you demanded I move back to Kansas so you can have a presence in your daughter's life when and if you feel like it?" I snort, smoothing out the edges of her cake. "Or do you mean when you supposedly went to my parents behind my back and asked them to support how terrible of a mother I am so you can try and take her away from me?"

"For all of it. It was wrong of me, and I'm sorry."

That has me pausing, and I find myself at a loss of how to respond.

"Before you moved away, I was trying. It has taken me a lot longer to grow up than it should have, but I knew I needed to be better for her. For both of you." His voice nearly breaks with some kind of emotion, but I can't decipher what. "Then, when I found out you left without even telling me…" He sighs. "I snapped. I freaked out. I spoke with your dad, and he validated all my feelings. He was hurt by your leaving too and—"

"Do not talk to me about my father. Ever." The knife falls from my hand and clatters against the counter. "You have no fucking clue what that man has put me through because you were not there. You do not get to seek out his opinion of me, my life, or my decisions. Do not speak about him to me."

Rageful tears sting the corner of my eyes, and I blink them away, unwilling to let Jason know the depth of the scars they left on me.

"You're right." I hear shaking in my ear, like he's nodding. "I'm sorry. Your parents were awful to you, to both of you." I know he means my sister when he says that. "And I never should've listened to him. He fueled my fire and encouraged me to act out. Once I realized I'd been manipulated… I needed to think things through."

"And?" I ask, taking a deep breath, bracing myself for whatever point he's trying to make.

"And," he drawls, "I want to be a part of her life, in whatever capacity she's comfortable with, and I'm hoping you'll let me do that. I'm not going to tell you to come back—at least, not right now—but I'd like to speak with her regularly. I'd like to have a visit too."

" I have never been the one keeping you from her, Jason," I snap. "I've always kept the door open. You are the one who has abandoned her over and over again. Do not put this on me like I'm some kind of monster. Every trust issue I have was placed there by you. I won't let you twist the narrative around."

"That's not what I'm saying, Dahlia," he groans. "I take responsibility for everything I've done over the years. I wasn't ready to be a father, and I needed time to grow up. I'm ready now, and I just want to do whatever I can. For both of you."

I scoff, lacing my fingers together on the countertop. "That's wonderful, Jason. I'm so glad you took the extra decade to prepare yourself for fatherhood. I, unfortunately, did not have that luxury. I had to step up from the jump. You remember that day, don't you? Ten years ago? I was in the hospital, nineteen and terrified, birthing our child, with only my eighteen-year-old sister there to hold my hand. You were…getting drunk in someone's basement? Am I recalling that correctly?"

"I know, Dally. I know. I was such a fuck up, and I did so wrong by you." His voice trembles, as if the memory pains him. "That's why I'm playing by your rules here. Whatever I can do to try and make it right."

I swallow hard, working to compose myself, to bite back the memories of fear and isolation that my daughter's birthday dredges up. I try to remain present, remember that she's here, that her happiness is worth more than any heartache I've encountered. But my birth experience was not a pleasant one. I was with my sister when I went into labor, and she was the only person who was there with me throughout the birth. She called Jason at some point, but he had no interest in any of it. Darby took me home to my parents' house afterward, and while they acknowledged their grandchild, they refused to acknowledge me.

I was nothing but a nuisance. An embarrassment. Damaged potential.

I was deemed worthless to my child's father and a disappointment to my own.

I've spent much of the last decade trying to convince myself that I can be anything else.

Willing away those memories and that emotion, I clear my throat. "So are you telling me you're no longer threatening to file for joint custody and take her away?"

"I stand by the fact that she's better off in Kansas. I believe it's a better place for a child to grow up." I hear him gulp. "But for now, I just want to get to know her. Maybe you could bring her out for a weeken—"

"I am not taking her back to Kansas. Never ."

"I'm not telling you to fucking stay, Dahlia," he snaps. "If you'd let me finish a goddamn sentence, I was going to suggest bringing her out for a weekend so I can spend some time with her. It's the least you could do."

"The least I could do ?" I seethe.

"Yeah?" he continues. "God, you should've seen how devastated your parents were at Christmas when you didn't bring her home, when none of you came home. Your mother was heartbroken."

"Don't fucking talk to me about my mother."

He scoffs in my ear. "Oh, I'm aware. Your parents are off limits, because you refuse to believe you're anything but a fucking victim. I get it."

"Fuck you, Jason."

"My parents were upset too. They deserve to know their granddaughter just like I do." He laughs roughly. "I honestly don't even get it. There is nothing for you in California. You're isolating her. She deserves to grow up with her family."

A family she doesn't fucking know!

His parents, while around slightly more often than he was himself—which was exactly zero percent of the time—were far less involved than even my parents were.

I might be mostly alone here in California, but I was completely alone in Kansas.

For the first time in my child's life, she isn't isolated, even if the people loving her aren't family.

"What do you honestly have going for you there that you didn't have here? You had a good job, a house. You have nothing in California."

"My sister is here," I say.

"Your sister isn't Lou's parent. You need to think about what's best for her, not what's best for you."

That one sentence is all it takes for the tears to bubble over and stream down my cheeks. It's the insinuation that I don't think about what's best for my daughter every second of the day, that I haven't put her before myself every minute since she was born.

"That's where you're wrong, Jason." My voice shakes with each word. "Darby is the only person I've ever had, the only constant in my life. She's the only one who has ever loved me. She has been my co-parent and my life partner. She gave up everything for me and our child, far more than you ever have." I angrily wipe my cheeks, upset at myself for letting him hear the effect his words have on me. "So, I go where she goes. She's my person. She's Lou's person too."

"Darby has her own life partner now," he says quietly. "Her own life."

A breathless sob escapes me at that.

"Darby doesn't have a life partner. She has a whole damn village." I jump at the voice coming from behind me. It's hard and brash, but it sounds like salvation as it runs along my skin. "It's Dahlia's village too."

The clip of footsteps echoes on the hardwood floors as he enters the kitchen. The warmth of his body wraps me in safety when I feel him stand behind me. Turning, I look up at Everett's soft brown eyes, etched with concern.

"Hi," I whisper. "I didn't hear you come in."

He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. "Are you alright?"

Leaning into his touch, I nod.

"Who is that?" Jason asks, voice sharp and cold.

"Her boyfriend," Everett responds just as brash.

Jason lets out a sharp, unconvincing laugh."This doesn't concern you."

With his eyes still on me, Everett responds, "Everything with Dahlia concerns me."

"For now," Jason scoffs. "Unlike you, I'm going to be tied to her for the rest of my life. If I want to have a conversation with the mother of my child alone, I'm entitled to that."

"Not if she feels unsafe."

I'm falling so hard for this man.

Way too hard.

The phone goes silent, as if he's taken aback by Everett's response. "I'm not going to hurt you?" Jason says like it's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard.

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.