41. Wicked

41

Wicked

Got Pickles?

I rush through the front door, attempting to remain as quiet as I can but too on edge to care much. The house is dark and silent, as it should be in the middle of the night, but the text message I received from my brother on the flight back to California had me rushing to his house the moment we touched down.

I find my brother sitting on the couch in his living room with his face in his hands. He lifts his head when he hears me enter, a mix of exhaustion, devastation, and anger coating his features.

"Where's Dahlia?" I ask.

He silently stands and leads me down the hallway behind the kitchen, where I know his bedroom is located. Quietly, he creaks open the door, and we both peek our heads inside. Darby and Dahlia are in bed together, sleeping deeply, turned on their sides and facing each other.

All of my instincts go on alert at the sight of them.

Something happened.

"Lou?" I ask, panic rising in my chest.

"She's okay," Leo reassures me. "She's asleep in her own room."

Knowing I should let her sleep, my instincts betray my efforts as I step to the side of the bed she's sleeping on, brushing my lips across her temple. I need to feel the warmth of her skin—it has been too long, and I'm too worried to go without reassurance.

She stirs, turning to face me as her eyes slowly flutter open. She blinks rapidly, taking in her surroundings before realizing I'm standing in front of her. "Everett?" Her voice is groggy and sleep-mused, so I hush her, kissing her head again.

"I'm here, baby. I needed to make sure you were alright." I run my fingers through her hair. "You go back to sleep, Wildflower. I'll be here when you wake up, okay?"

She raises a hand, covering my fingers with her own. "You promise?"

I bend forward, pressing my lips to hers breathly, inhaling her coconut scent and warmth. "Yeah, baby. I promise."

She turns back over, inching closer to her sleeping sister as I back out of the room and shut the door behind me, following my brother into the kitchen.

"What the fuck happened?" I ask.

"You hungry?" he asks, opening the fridge.

Actually, I am, but there's no way I'm going to keep anything down until I understand what happened to Dahlia. "No."

He nods, shutting the fridge as I fall into a barstool across from him. "We caught the fucker leaving notes on her car."

"What?" I immediately stand back up.

"Calm down," Leo says, motioning for me to sit. "I took care of it. It won't happen again."

I nervously scratch my beard, taking a seat as Leo does the same across the island from me. "Who was it?"

"Random kid. He was paid by her father."

"And that's who has been behind it this entire time?"

My brother nods solemnly.

"Fuck." I rub my eyes, suddenly feeling bone tired. The last forty-eight hours have been a whirlwind of stress and anxiety. This was the last thing I expected to come home to, but when I saw the message from my brother that something happened to Dahlia, adrenaline rushed through me. I couldn't breathe, or think, or halt until I reached her.

"Is this guy a complete basket case or what?" I ask.

"She has been blackmailing him." Leo sighs.

"Who?"

"Dahlia," he confirms. "She has been blackmailing him with files that incriminate his company. This was his retaliation." He runs a hand down his face. "I don't understand his motivations—I'm not even sure he understands them. I guess he thought he could scare her into running back to Kansas?"

"Why the fuck would Dahlia blackmail him?" I seethe.

Unease funnels in my stomach at the thought of the secrets she's been keeping all this time. Why would she knowingly and willingly play with fire after she spent her entire fucking life being burned? I rub my chest, feeling the sensation there, the worry and dread and trepidation.

I swear to God, she's the most complicated, stubborn, reckless woman I've ever met. I feel so angry at her for putting herself at risk, and at the same time, I'm in utter awe, because I know whatever her reasoning is, she was doing it to protect her sister and her daughter.

Dahlia is complicated, stubborn, and reckless, but fuck—she's also selfless. She's protective and nurturing. She's the most incredible woman I've ever known.

"She drives me crazy," I find myself murmuring.

Leo lets out a laugh. "Yeah. They'll do that to you."

"I don't understand the logic behind it," he continues. "But at the time, I guess she felt it was the only thing that was going to keep him from coming after Darby and forcing her to go back to Kansas."

"Darby's a grown woman." I shake my head. "He can't force her to do anything."

Leo nods but adds, "She clearly learned to blackmail from somewhere. I mean, the guy is manipulative and controlling. He forced Darby back home once before, and I know it's something Dahlia feels a lot of guilt about. I think she was afraid of him succeeding again." My brother looks down at the counter, frowning. "She told us she owed us this, that it was her turn to protect Darby. She thinks it's her fault Darby went home all those years ago, her fault Darby lost…" Leo doesn't finish his sentence.

"Dahlia was not responsible for that," I snap. "That was an accident, and the aftermath of it was no one's fault but his ."

"I agree with you," my brother shoots back. "Darby and I have never blamed Dahlia for a goddamn thing."

I nod, feeling sorry for assuming otherwise. My face falls into my hands. "This is fucked."

"Yeah," Leo agrees. "Darby broke down when she found out, and we agreed she doesn't need this kind of stress so close to the wedding. I told that kid to fuck off with his notes and come to me if he receives any more messages from their dad. In the meantime, we're going to get through the next few weeks and then figure out what to do."

"The only thing there is to do is hand those files over to authorities and put that piece of shit in prison."

"I know." My brother nods. "But that's not up to us. We need to let them figure that out on their own. That decision comes with a cost too."

I let out a long sigh. "Fuck."

Rounding the counter, Leo pats my back as he takes off toward the back door. "C'mon. I've got something for ya out here."

I follow him out of the house and into their detached garage. He flips on the light, unlocking a small box on the top shelf where he stores his surf gear. He turns to face me, smiling with a joint between his lips and a lighter in his free hand.

"Let's go take a walk."

"Are we bad boyfriends?" I ask, blowing out a puff of smoke.

Leo snatches the joint from my hand. "We left a note." Taking a hit, he adds, "Plus, we checked in, and all was well. We locked the door behind us. They'll be alright."

I nod. We reach the end of Oceanside Avenue, taking a right down Pacific Street. We checked in on the girls before we left to find them both sound asleep. I ran upstairs and peeked in Lou's room too. She was out like a light. We made sure the house was locked up tight before we took off toward downtown.

"They needed their sister tonight, and we needed our brother."

God, I remember why I don't smoke with him anymore. Leo gets annoyingly affectionate when he's high.

"How's Elena?" he asks, sounding suddenly solemn.

With all the chaos surrounding Dahlia and Darby, we hadn't had the chance to even address that our sister is finally home after three years. I hadn't had the capacity to talk about it, I don't think, but the weed has my head feeling a little quieter and my body feeling a little lighter.

"She's okay, I think."

Leo nods. "She at your house?"

"Yeah. Mom and Dad waited up for us, so they were there with her when I left." I look at him, watching his throat work as he inhales another hit. I can tell he's thinking deeply. "You're going to go see her, right?"

He turns to me, eyes narrowed. "Of course."

"Good."

I turn left down an alley that separates Pacific and Strand, heading toward the house I know but never visit. "Where are we going?" Leo asks, catching up to me.

"August's."

I hear him halt behind me. "At one-thirty in the morning?"

"You know he'll be up."

"Why?" he calls from behind me.

I turn around. "We've got to tell him she's back. He needs the heads up."

My brother sighs, taking one last hit before snuffing it out and placing it in his pocket. We finish the rest of the walk in silence, arriving at the two-story, craftsman-style home. I walk up the front porch steps with my brother on my heels, knocking lightly on the olive green door.

A minute goes by with no answer, but I can see a dim light on from the window next to the door, which I know to be the living room. Leo walks right up to the window, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting, "Auggie! Let's open up, brother."

"Shut the fuck up," I hiss. "He's got neighbors and shit."

My brother shoots me a dopey, stoned smile.

Finally, the door creaks open, and two green eyes assess us from the other side behind a pair of black-rimmed glasses. "What the hell is going on?" he whispers aggressively.

"We came to say hi," Leo says.

"I want a tattoo," I add, deciding suddenly.

"Are you guys drunk?"

"No, we're high." Leo chuckles.

August rolls his eyes, opening the door wider to allow us in. We follow him into the sunroom off the side of the house—the house his brother bought but never had the chance to move into before he died. Zach always planned on having August be his roommate, and after his death, he couldn't sell it, not when it was a home Zach loved so much and had been so excited to spend his life in. August has been here on his own ever since.

He utilizes the sunroom as an art studio, where a table sits in the corner with sketchbooks scrawled across it. In the other corner, he has a make-shift tattoo set-up, which rarely gets used now that he has his own shop.

"Why am I tattooing you in the middle of the night on a Thursday?" he asks, sorting through his equipment as I fall back into the leather chair.

Leo sprawls out next to us on the couch at the center of the room. He looks at me and raises a brow, as if to say: this is all you .

"Let me walk you through the design first, and we can talk while you're working."

August gives me a bemused expression, but he only shrugs before going back to the box he's sorting through. He pulls out his sketchbook, and I walk him through my idea. It's something I've had in the back of my mind for a while, but something about this night and all the chaos in my life has me wanting to pull the trigger on the idea.

I give him my vision, watching him effortlessly draw up a design far beyond anything I was capable of imagining in my head. After I approve the artwork, August sanitizes the spot on my chest where I want the tattoo, and I take a deep breath as the gun buzzes to life, dull burn and razor-sharp sting blasting through me.

I've gotten enough tattoos that I don't react much anymore, but that first prick is always a jolt. As I settle into the discomfort, August is focused on my skin, but he clears his throat expectantly.

"Well, I guess I'll just rip off the band-aid," I grit out. "Elena's home, and we thought you should know."

August freezes, body tensing for just a fraction of a second. I swear, I see a shiver roll down his spine, but whatever reaction he's having inside, he hides it quickly. I watch him swallow before he casually asks, "How long is she visiting?"

"She's not visiting. She's home ." There is finality in my tone, because like the conversation I had with my sister, I'm making it clear it's not temporary. She tried her hand in New York, and it did nothing for her. She's home for good, at least until she's healed enough to become a functioning human being again.

I booked her flight for her, and I made damn sure there was no return ticket.

"Oh," he says quietly. "Well…good. I'm glad."

"Are you?" I ask.

He stops, eyes raising to meet mine. "Of course I am."

"You two don't speak."

"Her choice. Not mine."

The tone in his voice seems to end the conversation there, and I glance at my brother, who watches us from his spot across the room. He shrugs at me, and I do the same back. It's clear whatever happened between the two of them is locked up tight, because when I brought the situation up to Elena, she shut it down the same way.

I guess we'll have to leave it up to them to resolve it on their own.

"You got like potato chips or something? I need to eat." Leo pats his stomach, getting up from the couch.

"I don't have much," August responds. "But I know you'll make yourself at home anyway, so feel free to scrounge around for whatever you can find."

"You got pickles?" I ask, realizing how hungry I am. Fuck, if a crisp dill pickle doesn't sound good right now.

"Yeah."

"Leo!" I shout after he's gone into the kitchen. "Pickles!"

"Pickles! Fuck yeah."

The next hour passes quickly as we make small talk. We discuss the coffee shop more, both August and Leo elated that Dahlia agreed to be part of it with us. August asks about the wedding, and Leo practically vibrates with excitement over it.

Like he has been waiting all his life to marry Darby.

Finally, after my entire body feels practically numb, August shuts off his equipment and rolls his chair back. "I've got the line work done, but you're going to have to come back next week for shading."

"Got it." I salute him.

"At the shop, though. I can't do it here."

"Why?" I ask as I hop off the bench and admire his work.

"I've got some realtors coming by throughout the week so I'm going to be having to hide all this away and keep the place clean."

I whip around just as Leo dives off the couch. "You're selling?" we ask at the same time.

"I'm just exploring my options," August says in a light-hearted tone, but the smile he gives us is strained. "The mortgage on this house was never intended to be paid with one income." He shrugs. "I've just…I've got to consider downsizing before I get to the point where I'm choosing between my business and my home."

"I can help—" Leo starts.

August holds up a hand, shaking his head. "Do not even start with that."

My brother sighs defeatedly, sinking back into the couch.

"How long do you have? Managing both?"

"I'm okay," August says reassuringly. "I'll make it through the summer just fine. You know how things die down in the winter. We all take a hit."

Leo and I nod in understanding, though none of us are at risk of choosing between our businesses or the roof over our heads.

"If it gets that bad, please consider letting us help you," Leo pleads.

"What about a roommate?" I ask.

August looks at me, tilting his head, as if he hasn't considered that before. His lips twitch up at the corner, almost imperceptibly. "Yeah. That could work."