Wicked

One Year Later

"Wildflower!" I call out, stepping into the kitchen.

"Back here," she chimes. I move through the double doors to the back of the café, where I find her rolling dough. Hands are covered in flour, orange apron wrapped around her frame, hair pulled back into a bun. She lifts her head, smiling at me as she continues to work.

"Hi, babe." I kiss her quickly before stepping away, not wanting to compromise the food she's making.

I move to the corner of the room, pulling out a barstool. "Luz isn't here yet?"

Dahlia shakes her head. "No. Bus should be dropping her any minute, though."

When Lou started her last year of elementary school, we decided to allow her to take the bus home, since there is a stop just across the street from the Boardwalk. I spend my mornings at the garage managing Ramos Automotive and moved back into my old office above Heathen's, where I work in the afternoons. That way, I can end my day with Dahlia at the bakery, and the three of us can go home together.

"You've got everything ready to go for next week?" I ask as we wait for our daughter.

"Yeah." She nods. "Elena's going to run the coffee shop while we're gone, and Peggy will be here for the bakery."

Elena, by all appearances, is doing better since I made her get a job at the café and she moved out of my house. I know she's not writing still, though. I think her inability to create stories continues to eat her alive, and I can only hope that, one day, she'll find it again.

Peggy is a pastry chef Dahlia hired to assist with bakery operations, and together, the two of them have masterminded several unique recipes that have people traveling from all around the region to get their hands on.

I'm the lucky bastard who gets my hands on Dahlia's goods as often as I want.

Dahlia has worked tirelessly the past year to get The Wildflower up and running, and it has become a smashing success—not without its early mornings, late nights, and a fuck ton of stress, though. That, paired with her father's sentencing earlier this year, which was hard on both Dahlia and Darby—especially in the final stage of Darby's pregnancy—meant Dahlia needed a break.

As a surprise, I spent the last several months secretly rebuilding an old school bus I bought off a friend, Tyler. I presented her with it last month and told her about my plan to take the summer off so she, Lou, and I could drive up and down the West Coast, exploring like she always imagined. It was tough to convince her to let the bakery go for two months, since this place has become like another child to her, but this summer may be our last chance to make it happen for a while.

Once she was finally swayed, we decided to take off when Lou finishes her school year next week, with plans to return early August, since that's Pacific Shores' busiest month of the year. I have no doubt that our businesses will be in the safest of hands with our family.

Once we return, our primary goal will be filling the final empty unit on the Boardwalk, the one between The Wildflower and August's tattoo parlor on the other end, with the hopes to have the Boardwalk completely full by next summer.

"Mom?" Lou's sweet, soft voice floats through the kitchen as she swings open the doors.

"Hi, bug." She smiles. "How was school?"

"Good," she says, tossing her backpack onto the counter and sliding onto the stool beside me. "Hey, Everett."

"Hi, Luz." I plant a kiss on the top of her hair.

"Let me finish prepping for the morning crew, and then we can head home."

"Take your time, wildflower." I wave her off, turning to our kid. "What'd you do today?"

I notice Lou looks a little bashful as she pulls her bag toward her. "I actually made you something," she says quietly.

"Made me something?" I ask dramatically. "How special am I?"

She smiles softly, digging through her bag. "We had a free craft day in art class since it's Friday, and I made bracelets. I know we already have a ton from the Taylor Swift concert, but I wanted to make one for you too."

"Did you make one for me?" Dahlia asks.

"No."

"Rude," she scoffs dramatically.

Lou rolls her eyes at her mom before glancing up at me shyly. "You know how I gave you like one-hundred cool nicknames and you said no to all of them?"

"Haven't found the right one yet." I shrug.

"Well…" She bites her lip, grabbing my wrist and laying it on the table in front of us. "My teacher was talking today about how Father's Day is coming up, and everyone was making little gifts for their dads…" She pulls something out of her bag, hesitantly slipping it onto my wrist. "I thought…Well, I thought maybe this nickname could work."

She looks up at me with uncertainty written in her eyes.

I glance down at the bracelet, a pattern of blue beads and little orange flowers—a mixture of mine and Dahlia's favorite colors. In the middle of my wrist are three small letters: D-A-D.

I let out some kind of noise, though I'm not even sure what. My heart is so full, I feel like it's ripping right out of my chest. Emotion immediately pricks at my eyes, and my nose stings as I try and fail to hold it back. I swallow the lump in my throat, but my voice is thick as I say, "That's a good one, kid. I like that one a lot."

She smiles at me, so much hope in her gaze. "You do?"

I fold her against my chest, cradling her head. "Yeah." I inhale sharply as I'm overcome with that emotion, tears leaking down my cheeks. "I think that's the best thing anyone has ever called me."

I catch Dahlia across the kitchen looking at us with concern. Silently, because words are lost on me completely, I hold my wrist up so she can see the bracelet. She squints, face falling as she makes out the word scrawled in the center of it.

A hand flies to her mouth, quiet tears cascading down her cheeks too.

I extend my hand, beckoning her to me. She drops her rolling pin and rounds the counter, pressing her lips to her daughter's head and throwing her arms around us both.

I spent most of my life going through the motions, having no idea which direction I was headed. All I wanted was a purpose, one that made me feel like there was something worth working toward, something to live for.

I slide my hand down Dahlia's side, spreading my palm across her middle. With them in my arms, it's like I've found everything I've always needed and didn't realize I'd been searching for. It was right here, wrapped up in them.

All my reasons to breathe, my entire world.

My home.