Chapter Fifteen #2
Careful not to startle her, I reach out and gently hook my pinkie around hers. She flinches, just barely, and our eyes meet in the mirror—wide, raw, afraid.
“Talk to me, Lou,” I murmur, voice low and breaking. “Whatever it is…I’m here.”
She bites down on her lip, hard, and I see it—her whole body beginning to shake. Whatever she’s holding in, it’s heavier than anything she’s let show.
I brace for the walls to go up, for the bite she usually meets pain with.
But instead, she turns.
She folds into me like she’s finally too tired to hold herself up, arms wrapping around me like she’s drowning and I’m the only thing keeping her afloat.
The sound that leaves her throat—it's not a sob. It’s a fucking wound.
“Henny…” she chokes, voice shattered. “I’m so sorry.”
I hold her tighter, one hand sliding up her back, the other curling around her waist. She hasn’t done a damn thing wrong, and I don’t know what she’s apologizing for—but I feel the weight of it all the same.
And I’d carry every ounce of it if she’d let me.
“Baby, you don’t have anything to be sorry for,” I tell her, rough and sure. “Dallas is fine.”
But the second his name leaves my mouth, I feel her fall apart for real. Her whole body goes limp against mine, and the tears come fast—hot and soaking through my shirt. No holding back now. No walls. Just her and all that fucking grief she’s been swallowing down.
I’ve waited years to hold her like this again—to feel her in my arms, not just near me but with me. Still…she feels a million miles away.
My throat closes up, thick with everything I can’t fix. I drop my chin to the top of her head, breathing her in like it’ll steady me. That fresh Magnolia scent, soft and wrong and so her, clings to my lungs.
“Wildflower…” I whisper. The word catches like glass in my throat. A prayer. A plea. A God damn lifeline thrown into the dark.
Because I don’t want her to come back to me.
I want her to know she never had to leave.
She pulls back, hands rising to cradle my face like I’m something fragile—something sacred—like if she lets go for even a second, I’ll disappear.
I freeze under the weight of it. Her palms are trembling, but her eyes? Jesus. Her eyes are wildfire and wreckage. Cheeks streaked with tears, lips parted like she’s about to give me the truth I’ve been bleeding for.
And in that look—God, in that look—I know.
This is it. This is the weight she’s been carrying.
The thing that’s kept her from me all these years.
I hold my breath waiting for her to finally open up to me, but in true Louisiana fashion she doesn’t. I see the second she decides to lock it back up, making me deflate. “When this is all over, you’ve got to let me go. You deserve so much more than anything I could ever give you.”
Then she gives me this soft, broken smile like it’s some kind of mercy—and turns, walking away.
Leaves me standing there. Hollowed out. Fuming.
Let her go?
I deserve more?
She has no God damn clue what I deserve. I sure as hell don’t want more. I want her. Bruised, stubborn, impossible her. The woman who’s spent her whole life building walls no one was ever supposed to climb.
But I’m not asking anymore.
She wants to run? Fine.
The first chance I get, I’m going to tear those walls down brick by fucking brick.
Ready or not, Louisiana Wright is about to find out exactly what she deserves.
And it’s me. All of me. Every raw, ruthless inch.
The drive to my brother’s, I keep one eye on Dallas in the backseat, all tangled up in nerves. He fidgets like he’s trying to escape his own skin, and honestly, I don’t blame him. I’m grateful for the distraction—anything to stop twisting the pain in my chest that Lou’s words whipped up earlier.
Lou turns in her seat, and her long blonde hair whips across my face, a soft brush that almost makes me forget the knot in my chest.
“Listen, Dally,” she says, voice gentle but firm, “they’re going to love you. Don’t be nervous—just be you.”
I catch his slight nod in the rearview mirror. His eyes lock on mine for a moment, and I shoot him a quick wink—a promise, a lifeline.
“Besides,” Lou adds with that sly smile, “you’re about to meet the baddest mofo I know. You could at least look a little excited.”
“What are his sons’ names again?” he asks, voice barely above a murmur.
“Charlie and Sebastian, but he goes by Bash.”
Lou smiles again, this time softer, like she’s trying to smooth the edges of his worry. “Don’t stress about them, D. They’re good kids. I’m sure they’ll like you.”
He nods, slow and careful, filing it all away like it’s another rulebook he’s got to memorize. “Got it.”
Lou fiddles with the radio, the car settling into a quiet rhythm. Then his voice breaks through, small and hesitant.
“Is there a certain way you want me to act when we get there?”
I glance back through the mirror, shifting in my seat. “Act? What do you mean?”
He shrugs, eyes cast down at his hands. “Like…do you want me to be quiet? Not talk too much? Do you want me to call you Mom and Dad or something?”
Those aren’t questions a kid comes up with on his own. They’re rules he’s been handed—maybe gently, maybe not. Be quiet. Don’t speak unless spoken to. Say the words they want to hear, even if they don’t feel right in your mouth.
How fucking sad is that?
That somewhere along the way, someone made him believe he had to earn a place in a family by pretending to belong. It makes my hands tighten on the wheel. Not in anger at him—but at whoever made him feel like love was conditional.
Lou spins around before I can even open my mouth. Her voice is steady, no room for doubt. “No. You never have to pretend with us, Dallas. Not tonight. Not ever. We want you to be—exactly as you are. That’s all we expect. Understand?”
His eyes flicker between us, the tension loosening in his shoulders like a dam starting to crack.
“Yeah, Louis,” he says softly, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “I got you.”
Those three words—heavier than they should be, like trust just planting a fragile seed.
We pull up to Maddox’s house, and I take a breath—sharp and shaky—as we pile out. The nerves knot in my gut, but I don’t know why.
Evie’s there on the porch, glowing with that pregnant light, nine months heavy but smiling like the sun itself. I kiss her cheek and rub her belly, voice warm. “Any day now, Mama. You ready?”
“Hell no we aren’t ready, and keep your lips off my wife,” Maddox storms behind her. Evie just rolls her eyes, unphased at his gruffness.
Lou slides between them, looping her arm around Maddox’s waist, shooting Dallas a wide grin.
“Dally, as promised—meet Maddox Wilder. The baddest motherfucker I know.”
Dallas draws in a breath like he’s bracing for impact, then sticks his hand out. “Nice to meet you. I’m Dallas.”
Maddox looks down at him, adjusting his glasses with quiet ease. He doesn’t hesitate—just reaches out and shakes his hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Glad you’re here, Dallas. Come on in.”
And I swear, right then, I see something settle in the kid.
Not fear. Not suspicion.
Something softer.
Like, for the first time, he’s not just tolerated. He’s welcome.
And that kind of thing? It leaves a mark.
Even if he can’t say it yet, I know he’ll carry this moment—forever.
Hell, I know I will.