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For all the wicked wildflowers out there: Your worth is invaluable.
“From then on, I just…I rejected the idea of all of it. I wanted to cause as much noise as I could. I wanted to scream until they noticed I was the one hurting. I needed attention—needed support and love, and I needed to mean more to them than their reputations. I needed to mean more than status and success.” She looks at me, pain in her blue eyes. “And I never did. It’s like…I went to one end of the spectrum and Darby went to the other. She tried to make up for all the noise I caused by being quiet and timid and perfect until both of us were so fucked up, there was no way to fix it.”
My mom isn’t evil like my dad; she’s just weak. She never stood up for Darby or me one single time, instead letting our father spew his hatred. She was content to sit back and watch, to play trophy wife and let us wither away. I think if I had never become a mother myself, I might have forgiven her for it, but I know that I’d go to the ends of the Earth for my daughter’s well-being. No status, money, or stability a man could provide me would keep me from putting her first. So, seeing my own mom put my sister and me behind herself time and time again only proved my fears that she simply doesn’t
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“As a mother myself, there isn’t anyone on this planet that could put me in a position where I would treat my child the way…” I trail off. My mother may not have been the one who locked me in the house or told me I was worthless. She may not have been the one to throw things or break doors, but she never stopped him, never defended us. “There is no amount of fear that would drive me to be like her, no amount of approval I could seek to do the things she’s done or act the way she has.”
“You know what they say,” I chime. “Save a horse.” “That’s weird. I thought the term was ‘save a wave, ride a surfer.’”
“I bet your cowboys can’t do it like I can.”
“I think he’s her person because they’re loud and annoying.”
“I see the way you look at me, Wildflower, and I want you to know that I’m seeing you the exact same way.”
he’s like the spring—warm and bright. I’m like the winter, like the water we’re standing in now, frigid and cold.
Leo extends his hand toward me, my keychain hanging from his finger. “I believe these are yours. You hit me in the back of the head with them.” “Sorry,” I murmur. “When you see a grown-ass man on top of your baby sister, the protective instincts kind of kick in.” The corner of his mouth tilts up. “The choking was consensual, Dahlia.”
Eres perfecta, cariño,” he rasps against my lips. “Todo lo que siempre he querido. Te necesito para siempre. Dime que eres mía. Por favor. Mía, cariño. Sé mía.”
“But the shade of blue staring back at me right now?” I let out a breath. “That shade only exists inside your eyes. It’s my favorite one.”
“I love your lips because when they touch mine, I’m reminded of what it’s like to feel something. I love your mouth because it says such sweet things to me.” I smile. “Such filthy things.” She blushes. “I love your mind because it challenges me and intrigues me and makes me think about the world differently. I love the way your brain works. I love the way you speak and think and feel.”
“What have I become to you?” she whispers, as if she’s afraid to ponder those questions too. I lift my head and find my whole world in that sapphire gaze. “My purpose.”
I’ve always thought Pacific Shores was home to me, but now, I wonder if it’s just where I live. Because falling asleep beside her… That was the first time in my life I’ve felt that soul-deep belonging I think truly bears the meaning of the word. She feels like home.
“I was so frustrated by her,” Dahlia continues. “I just wanted one fucking night to myself. One night without having to worry about her.” Her voice breaks again. “I feel so guilty for being upset. A mother shouldn’t want space from her own child. I don’t want to ever make her an imposition. I know what it’s like to feel that way, and I don’t ever want to do that to her.”
“You’re her safe place, but I want to be yours.”
“Why would you want to see my ugly sides?” she asks. I smile, running my thumb along the soft skin of her cheek. “Because showing me your ugly and watching me stay is the only way I’m gonna prove to you how real this is.”
“The point I’m making,” he continues, “ is that you’re an invisible string, Luz. Without you, none of us ever would’ve met each other. Do you know how much happiness and love you’ve brought into our lives just by existing?”
There’s some shuffling in the kitchen, and Lou laughs again. “Don’t forget that, okay? You’re meant to be. You’re a fucking cool kid, and I want you to remember that if anyone ever tries telling you otherwise, got it?”
“Am I allowed to call myself a fucking cool kid?” Everett cackles. “Not in front of your mother.”
The anxious, insecure mother. The woman who struggles with her body image and what she wants to do with her life. The girl with trauma, who will never stop questioning if she’s good enough at anything she does and whether or not she deserves love. I’m a lot to take on, and as much as I love flirting, laughing, and having fun with Everett, a part of me feels so sure that the rest of it will catch up with us eventually, and he’s going to walk away.
“But I cannot get on that in front of my kid,” she says, nodding at my bike. I smile; I knew she’d say that. “Luz, what did we talk about?” Lou peeks her head around the bouquet that’s damn near the same size she is. “Motorcycles are dangerous, but you’re a professional, so we’re safe with you.” “Right.” I nod. “And?” “If a boy ever asks me if I want a ride on his motorcycle, I tell him to ‘Kick rocks, bitch.’”
I’m not easy to love,” I find myself saying. “Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. The hard part is that you won’t let me.” Reaching up to softly cup my face, he continues, “My love isn’t fickle, Dahlia. I’m not afraid to fight for you. For us. Every second of every day, if that’s what it takes. I’m not afraid of imperfection or reality. I’m not afraid of your broken pieces.” He runs his thumb along my cheek. “I’m broken too, but together, we can be whole.” Everett smiles, emotion glistening behind his amber eyes. “You’re everything I’ve been searching for my entire life and never
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You’re my wildflower.” He lets out a breathless laugh. “You blew into town one day on a whim and planted yourself right inside my soul. You’re rooted in me now, baby. I don’t mind waiting to watch you bloom.”
You’re my compass, Wildflower. I’ll follow you forever, because that’s where I find home.”
My world. It’s her. “How do I look?” she asks quietly as she reaches me. “Beyond comparison to anything in this plane of existence,” I find myself whispering, more to me than to her. Because I rack my brain for words, but they simply don’t exist, not for the way she looks. Not for the way my chest cracks open at her smile, begging her to fill the gaps left behind.
She’s not words. She’s music. She’s harmony. Fucking peace.
I’m not healed, and I haven’t forgiven her. I’m not ready to rebuild any kind of relationship with her, and I’m not sure I ever will be, but I think I finally received the one thing I needed more than the rest. It wasn’t my father’s approval I was after all this time. It was hers. I needed her to admit I was never the problem. I was never broken. She was the one who failed me. They both did. Her acknowledging that truth was the closure I thought I’d never have.
