After Her Flower Petals: A Second Chance Romantic Comedy (The Svensson Brothers Book 7)

by Alina Jacobs

  “Hunter, I’m sorry…” But he was already gone. I looked around in shock.

  How had this happened? Hunter was walking away from me? Hunter was refusing to forgive me?

  But I couldn’t completely be mad at him. He was right; it was my fault, and he was also right in that, if it were my sisters, I would do the same thing. And now, through my own stupidity, terrible decision-making skills, and paranoia, I had run off Hunter, the only true love I would ever have.

  I had spent the rest of the evening and into the wee hours of the morning giving a statement to the police then giving more statements to the FBI when they turned up to take control of Leif.

  Then there was the impromptu press conference as national news organizations descended on our town, because when the polygamist cult father of numerous good-looking billionaires was taken out by a surprise alligator, well, that was a story everyone wanted a piece of.

  After the alligator went to the local zoo, Leif went to federal jail, and the townspeople and news organizations went home, I headed to Kate’s Airbnb and passed out on her couch.

  “Poke,” she said. “Poke. Poke.”

  I winced as my friend jabbed my arm. The noon sun shone into my face.

  “Meg, you smell like a sewer.”

  I pushed myself upright, wiping the drool off my face. “I had the worst nightmare,” I mumbled, stretching. Then it all came back to me—almost getting killed, the fear, then finally, Hunter leaving me. “Why is my life such a shit show?” I sobbed to Kate.

  “You need to shower, and I don’t think you brushed your teeth,” she said, clicking her tongue.

  “He can’t be serious, can he?” I sniffled as Kate turned on the water.

  “Have a shower whiskey,” Kate said, pouring me a paper cup of dark-amber liquid and shoving me under the water.

  “He was probably just shocked,” she assured me. “Clean up, then give him a call. He’s probably had a change of heart.”

  I did feel better after the shower and the drink.

  “One incident can’t make him do an about-face,” Kate assured me as she ran a comb through my snarled curls. I nursed another glass of whiskey.

  “Just start with an apology, then tell him how much you love him, and that you’ll make it up to him. Surely, he’ll understand,” she said. “After all, he’s made mistakes. That’s life.”

  I drained my glass for fortification.

  But when I called, Hunter didn’t pick up.

  “Hi, Hunter,” I said to the voicemail, trying to keep my voice steady. “I was just calling to see how you were. And I am so sorry about what happened. I’m working with the FBI to make sure that your father is put away for a long time. I love you. Please call me back.” I hung up.

  “Maybe he wanted to pick up but couldn’t get to the phone,” I said, chewing on my lip.

  I dialed him again. It went straight to voicemail.

  “Hunter,” I pleaded, starting to cry. “I really love you, and I’m sorry, and I want to have a life with you. Please forgive me! I’ll do anything.”

  “Okay, that’s enough,” Kate said, grabbing the phone from me and disconnecting the call.

  I snatched it back from her.

  “Don’t you dare!” my friend warned.

  I blocked Kate and redialed. “Hunter, please call me back!” I shrieked.

  “I’ll buy you cheese fries if you give me the phone!” Kate bribed, trying to steal it from me.

  “Hunter, I love you.” I wailed into the phone.

  “I’ll have them put chili on them,” Kate wheedled, “and give you an extra side of cheese sauce.” She waved my whiskey glass at me. “Gimme the phone, Meg.”

  I handed it over and wiped the snot from my nose.

  Kate ended the call.

  “I messed up my only chance at a happily ever after,” I cried, sinking to the carpet.

  “You don’t know that,” Kate said, patting my shoulder soothingly.

  “I do,” I said sadly. “He’s right. I would never forgive him for endangering my sisters. And he’s never going to forgive me.”

  78

  Hunter

  Crawford and Remy returned late the next morning. It was a bittersweet welcome.

  The kids all ran to them.

  “You did it!” Otis said excitedly. “Dad’s in jail! He tried to kill Meg.”

  Remy gave me a concerned look.

  “Hunter went to try and save her,” Bruno said, “but she already had it under control, and then he almost got eaten by an alligator!”

  “Just another day in small-town America,” I told Remy with a forced smile.

  “Between the attempted murder charge of an elected official and all the evidence from the compound,” Greg said smugly, “there’s enough to sink him. I already had a call with the federal prosecutor, and I told her under no uncertain terms that we would be pushing for the maximum punishment, his sentences to be served consecutively, and reminded her of how generous we have been to her reelection campaign.”

  Nate tugged on Crawford’s jacket. “Did you find Enola? Or Annie?” he asked in a small voice.

  Crawford’s eyes were sad, and his mouth turned down. “No,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Maybe…” Arlo said, twisting his shirt. “Maybe they were hiding? Did you check in the caves nearby?”

  “The FBI had dogs out there; I even called in some favors from some buddies of mine,” Crawford said.

  “They’ll turn up,” Remy said kindly to Nate. “They’re Svenssons! We’re a resourceful lot. Look at Hunter! He managed to find an alligator in New York!”

  “There’s a naming contest for the gator,” Archer said, trying to hype the kids up and distract them. “You can donate to the zoo and get the opportunity to cast a vote for a name! What do you want to name him?”

  Isaac’s face was screwed up. “They’re dead, aren’t they?”

  “Isaac!” I admonished as several of the younger kids started to cry.

  “You all are full of shit,” he spat.

  “No swearing,” I warned him.

  “You claim you have everything under control, but you don’t.”

  “Isaac!”

  “Just leave him,” Remy said, grabbing my arm as Isaac stormed out. He ran a hand through his short hair. It was strange seeing my brother without his big bushy beard and shaggy mop. He wrinkled his nose and turned to the kids. “I bet you all didn’t have anything good to eat while I was gone.”

  “They had grilled vegetables.”

  “Who wants burritos?” Remy asked. “I brought back salsa!”

  The kids raced to the kitchen. Crawford followed them.

  “That Meg?” Remy asked me as my phone rang. I sent her call to voicemail.

  “I’m done with her,” I told him.

  “Hunter…”

  “I can’t.” I shook my head. “She was collaborating with Leif. Now our sisters are missing. I can’t forgive her for any of it.”

  “You don’t have to keep sacrificing your happiness for us,” Remy said gently. “No one wants that for you.”

  “I refuse to sacrifice my family for my happiness, though,” I said ruefully.

  My phone rang again.

  “Maybe you should talk to her?”

  I hit the red button. “I’ve made my decision.” I followed my brothers into the kitchen. The kids had already opened the salsa.

  “You all need to eat something besides chips and dip,” I told them.

  “But it’s so good!” Henry held out a chip covered in salsa. A bit dripped on the floor, but I didn’t snap at him.

  “Oops!” he said. “Open wide!” He stuffed the snack in my mouth, getting the red sauce on my chin.

  My phone rang again as I wiped off my face. Remy gave me a worried look.

  I turned off the device. “I think you all need cheese dip to go along with that.”

  “Thank you for all your help,” I told Agent Donnelly later that day. We were meet
ing with the FBI down at the local police department where they had set up a temporary processing center.

  “It sounds like it was a fortuitous event that your brothers Remington and Crawford just happened to be at the compound visiting family.”

  “Yes,” I said, holding his gaze. “Very fortuitous.”

  “Just wanted to inform you that I had a phone call with the head agent on-site in Wyoming. He relayed that a number of the sister wives escaped with several babies.”

  Crawford shifted in his seat.

  “We will be on the lookout,” I said.

  “They’re probably going to join other compounds,” the FBI agent warned. “We have our cult department on alert, though there isn’t much we can legally do, as the mothers are allowed to take their children where they wish.”

  He turned to a new page in his notebook. “Do you have an idea of how many girls there were?”

  “I’m not sure, maybe eight to ten?” I guessed. “There were some older ones, teenagers or young adults, but the younger kids that have come to Harrogate said they disappeared a long time ago.”

  “Hm,” Agent Donnelly said. “Don’t lose hope. They may turn up. The fact that your father is in jail may give them the confidence needed to come out of the shadows.”

  But I had lost hope.

  “What do you want for dinner?” Remy asked me when I walked back into the dining room after returning home from the meeting.

  “I’m not hungry,” I replied.

  “You need to eat,” Davy insisted. “Can we have pizza?”

  “Sure,” I said, going outside to sit on the terrace.

  Spring was coming. The stones were warm from the sun. Several of my little brothers were play fighting with Crawford, who was teaching them tactical combat moves.

  Isaac slunk up the steps and sat beside me. I put my arm around his shoulder, pulling him close to me.

  “Minnie said you dumped Meg. Because of Dad.”

  “Did you see her?” I asked him.

  “Minnie said Meg hadn’t been at the café. But it was packed. I just stayed to help her wash dishes and stuff and clear some of the crowd out.”

  “That was nice of you.”

  “You can’t let Dad ruin anything else,” he said, looking at me. “He’s ruined everyone’s lives. You can’t let him take Meg too.”

  “It’s complicated,” I began, looking out over the backyard.

  “It’s not that complicated,” he shot back. “You always say that, but it’s not. I love Minnie. So I spend time with her and help her out. It’s not that difficult.” He jumped up then stormed into the house.

  “You couldn’t pay me to be sixteen again,” Garrett said from above me.

  “Do you also have an acerbic comment to make?” I asked him.

  “Hardly,” he replied then added, “but maybe Isaac isn’t completely an idiot.”

  However, I couldn’t forgive Meg. As much as I wanted to, as much as I loved her, I had to draw hard lines. My family came first. Always. Even at the expense of my own happiness. I refused to be like my parents, both my mother and Leif, who put their own happiness over that of their kids, and we all had suffered from it. I would not become them.

  But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

  79

  Meghan

  I hardly finished any work for the rest of the day.

  “What’s the point?” I said to the wall in my office. “The election is in two days. Hunter will win. This can all be his problem.” I slumped over my computer, resting my head in my hands. What was I going to do without Hunter?

  I texted him again—I’d been texting him several times an hour. Yes, I was aware that it was crazy. Shoot, when I had told him we were done a few months ago, even he hadn’t texted me that much. But I couldn’t handle it. I needed him to talk to me.

  “You are acting insane,” I scolded myself, deleting the frankly unhinged text I was about to send. I forced myself back to the task at hand, submitting the paperwork for Mr. Boyde’s medal.

  The door to my office burst open. My heart soared for a moment, thinking it was Hunter.

  “Hi, Ida,” I said, trying not to sound disappointed. “How can I help you?”

  “You aren’t seriously giving that oaf a medal, are you?”

  “He did find the alligator,” I reminded her.

  “If he gets a medal, I want one too!” Ida insisted.

  “A medal for what?”

  “I don’t know,” Ida said. “Why don’t you give me a medal for not stuffing cat food down the storm system!”

  “Sorry, Ida,” I said, not being able to take any more small-town kookiness. “I do have a meeting to run to. Maybe we can discuss this at another time?”

  “Going to get some last-minute campaigning in?” Ida tapped her temple. “Don’t worry. I’ve been all over town campaigning for you. I even have a new advertisement up! They just finished the install.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

  As I walked out of city hall, I came face-to-face with the advertisement.

  There was yours truly in a ripped suit, my hair snarled around my face, wrestling an alligator while Hunter stood by in shock.

  “Vote for a woman who dominates!” bold neon-pink text shouted.

  This is my life. I stared up at the billboard. Unlike me, Hunter looked amazing. I wished he were here. I checked my phone. I hadn’t received so much as an emoji from him.

  Was he seriously never going to contact me again, ever? I couldn’t even comprehend not having him in my life. He had always been there—looking out for me. I had complained when he would crash my dates, but part of me was secretly pleased when he would show up in his fancy suits and his swagger.

  The tears came again. “I’m never going to have him back.” I sniffled.

  Get it together. I still had my sisters to take care of. We didn’t have anywhere to live. If I lost the election, I was out of a job. You have bigger problems to worry about than Hunter. But he dominated my thoughts.

  “You need to clear your head,” I pep talked myself as I walked to my car. But as I drove—slowly, of course, since I was still cursed with my station wagon, as I hadn’t been able to convince the FBI to impound it for evidence—I beat myself up over losing Hunter.

  Why had I believed Hunter was going to post those pictures online? Why had I bought information about him from Leif? Why had I been so stupid?

  I had broken the rules. Clearly it was a bad idea to have anything to do with a leader of a cult. Now Hunter was never going to forgive me. I was going to be a spinster, pining after him from afar, telling everyone in the old folks’ home about that time I had a billionaire in love with me and how he had bought me the most beautiful flowers.

  I wished I had a faster car so I could just drive and drive and drive. As it was, my car was pushing forty-eight miles per hour, and it was starting to smell like burnt rubber. I slowed down, letting the car coast, and opened the windows. It was dark out, only the beams from my headlights illuminating the road.

  You’ll probably hit a deer, and then your shitty life will be completely and totally in the toilet. Speaking of… there was something moving up ahead. I peered, slowing the car down. Were those deer? Whatever it was moved to the side of the road. Bobcat?

  I hit the brakes. As I approached, my headlights caught several pairs of gray eyes.

  “Goodness gracious!”

  There were eight girls arranged tallest to shortest. The oldest one in front walked with purpose and with a big stick. Her blond hair was in a neat bun on the back of her head, and she had her younger sisters tied on a line of string behind her.

  I pulled over on the side of the road.

  “We are not in need of assistance,” the leader said. She looked to be younger than my sisters, maybe about twelve.

  “You’re walking down a busy road in the middle of the night,” I said, jumping out of the car and running after them.

  “I have only seen
six cars including yours in the past two hours,” she informed me.

  “Enola!” one of the other girls complained. “I’m tired!”

  “We do not get into cars with strangers, Annie. I told you that ten times already.”

  “But I’m not a stranger,” I said, trotting to keep up with them. “I know your brother. Shoot, I know all your brothers! I’m a friend of Hunter’s!”

  Enola stopped and regarded me critically.

  “I can take you to them,” I said, gesturing to the station wagon. “You can’t walk all the way to the Svensson estate. It’s like twenty miles away.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?” she asked. “You could be in league with my father.”

  I cringed. “Your dad’s actually in jail.”

  There were gasps from several of Enola’s younger sisters and cheers from a few others.

  “He was almost eaten by an alligator.”

  Enola’s brow crinkled. “This far north?”

  “Welcome to Harrogate,” I said dryly. “He’s in a zoo now. There’s a naming contest.”

  “For Father?” Enola was horrified.

  “No, for the alligator. Look,” I said, taking out my phone and flipping to a photo of Hunter and me. “See? This is from the wedding event a week ago.”

  The little Svensson sisters oohed and aahed at the pictures.

  “It’s so pretty!”

  “Look at all the flowers!”

  “I suppose we can accept a ride from you,” Enola said, after studying the photos, “but no funny business.”

  I herded the girls to the car then realized the station wagon did not have enough seat belts.

  “Miss, you have a forest growing in your trunk,” one of the girls said, pointing.

  “Look, kid,” I said, “being an adult is hard.”

  Enola took a piece of newspaper out of her bag and laid it down over the moldy spot. I put some of the girls in the back seat then helped the rest into the trunk. Enola sat with me up front.