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“A heart is not judged by how much you love, but by how much you are loved by others.”
Grief is a weird thing. It’s the only emotion in the world people claim to understand yet treat as an inconvenience. “Time heals all wounds, Evie.” Spare me. Time heals nothing. Just gives things more space to grow and fester and rot.
I’m angry at Nessa for getting herself killed. And I’m angry at Dorothy for killing her.
“I don’t want to stalk you, pretty girl.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I want to fuck you.”
See, what Dorothy doesn’t realize—what nobody else knows—is while our father may be the face of the family business, he’s not the brains. He needs me for that. So she may have his attention and get showered in his love, but she doesn’t truly have his favor. I do. And it starts right here, in my greenhouse full of poppies.
“There’s no one like family, Evie, and there’s no place like home. We have to stick together.”
“Tell me to sit and eat like a good boy, and I swear to fucking god I’ll do it.”
“I want you to get down on your knees and lick my pussy like a good pup.”
“You don’t have to trust me, Evelina. But words are your safe space, the same way that they’re mine.” My fingers thread through his hair. “Let me be your calm in the chaos, pretty girl.”
But if I’m her calm, then she is my chaos, and if I can’t live with her forever, then I don’t want to live at all.
