5. Wicked

5

Wicked

I'm Her Boyfriend. Who Are You?

He immediately lets go of her arm and steps back. I preen at the kernel of fear in his eyes.

I can't believe she's standing in front of me, though I wonder if I should be surprised at this point. She blew into that bar like a hurricane, dismantling all of my composure and leaving destruction in her wake when she breezed out of my life just as quickly as she came.

Here she is again, in my business, dessert spilled across the floor, requiring rescue from yet another douchebag. "Need my saving once again, huh, cari?o ? "

Her nostrils flare at the pet name, but I'm not sure what she expects, considering she won't give me her real one. I'd heard enough of the conversation to understand now exactly who the woman standing in front of me is.

I also don't let myself think too hard about the eventual fallout of our earlier actions.

She looks just as pretty in her white t-shirt and denim cut-offs as she did in the bar that night. She's wearing less makeup, and her hair is thrown up in a loose bun. Now that I catalog her features, I realize she does closely resemble her sister—the lips, nose, and freckles—but it's her eyes that have me feeling adrift. A color that doesn't match Darby's. A shade of blue I'm pretty sure doesn't exist anywhere but right inside her irises.

The space around us fades to nothing as I study those eyes–as they study me. I watch the heat rise on her cheeks, the flush running down her neck and disappearing beneath the vee of her shirt. I wonder if she's remembering all the same things I am.

"It never did take you long, did it, Dahlia?" The man next to her scoffs in disbelief as he rapidly looks back and forth between us. I wonder if the hunger on my face is that obvious, or if he just knows her well enough to see it on her too. "Suppose I shouldn't be surprised." I watch her physically flinch at the blow of his words, and then I see red as rage overtakes me. "You've always been a slut."

Dahlia recoils back from him, and I watch as she shrinks in on herself, as the words land.

It sends me into a tailspin, and before I fully understand my actions, I'm on the other side of the room with the asshole shoved against the wall and my elbow on his throat. The piece of shit would be half my size on a good day, and the way he looks up at me with hatred in his stare tells me he's well aware of it too. His skin flushes red as I cut off his oxygen, and bloodshot eyes move from me to the woman standing behind me.

"Don't look at her. Look at me." He listens, and I make sure he's entirely focused on my face before I speak again. "I'm gonna ask you nicely to leave my store." I press a little harder, and he gasps as he fights for air. "You're never going to speak about her like that again. I don't want to hear Dahlia's name out of your mouth. If you continue to bother her, I'm gonna make sure I know about it, in which case, I'm going to be a lot less fucking polite. Are we understood?"

"Who are you?" he gasps between choking breaths.

I smile. "I'm her boyfriend. Who the fuck are you?"

I hear Dahlia gasp at that, but I don't have time to think those words through or watch her reaction, so I keep my eyes on the man in front of me.

He's older; I don't think he's some sort of former flame. I don't think she's been in town long enough to have one. The longer I stare into his brown eyes, I realize that they might be Darby's eyes. I take in the color of his hair; though streaked with gray, it's the same dishwater blond that matches Dahlia's natural shade.

I think I might be holding her father against the wall by the throat.

There's defiance in his stare. I don't let up, though. I don't move. I don't give him air to breathe, not until he finally gives me a slight nod. I back up and let him peel off the wall. He straightens out his trousers and brushes his hands down his wrinkled button up. "We have things to discuss, Dahlia," he mutters without making eye contact with either of us.

"No, we don't." Her voice is soft and timid. She's scared.

I take a menacing step toward him, and he backs into the glass doors, reaching behind himself for the handle. We both pause as Dahlia's voice, stronger than before, asks, "Why would you corner me here and not at the house?"

Her father's eyebrows knit together, and a gross smile flashes across his face. "I did, but you weren't there. I knew that bastard owned a business somewhere in this town. Figured I'd take a look around until I found you."

I chuckle. "If by ‘that bastard' you're referring to my brother, I'd think twice before opening your fucking mouth again."

His eyes go wide, face deepening to a crimson hue. Nostrils flaring, his gaze focuses on the woman behind me, just briefly. "You know what we need to discuss. If you'd picked up my phone calls, it wouldn't have escalated to this. I don't fly out until tomorrow afternoon. I'm going to call you later, and I suggest you answer." He pushes the door open behind him. "I'd prefer not to return to this fucking town, but I will get what you owe me." With one last look toward his daughter, he mutters, "And to think, I tried to play nice with her."

Dahlia doesn't respond, and I block the entrance to the store as I watch him leave. I don't take my eyes off the front door until he makes his way down the boardwalk and turns onto Main Street. I watch until he's completely out of sight before I turn back to face her.

Adam's long gone. He texted me when the altercation started, and I came downstairs immediately. I had guessed the woman in the store was Darby's sister when he mentioned she was a new staff member for the initiative, but I had no idea I'd be running into the same woman from the bar. I told Adam to head outside and lock the doors while I handled things so we wouldn't risk any patrons witnessing it. I also didn't want Dahlia to feel anymore embarrassed than I'm sure she already is.

I know Adam's a hopeless gossip, so I also make a mental note to remind him later that if he utters a single word about the incident to anyone, I'll have him jobless before the words leave his tongue.

Dahlia is leaned back against the counter, a trembling mess. Her eyes are cast down to the floor, as if she's afraid to look at me. I slowly approach her, squatting down at her feet and picking up the brownies sprawled on the ground. I place each one back in the container before rising and setting it beside her.

"You're Darby's sister." It's not a question.

She finally lifts her head, and all I see is the color blue.

"You're Leo's brother," she says quietly.

I nod.

"Well, fuck."

I can't help the laugh that escapes me.

There's that string I was looking for, I guess.