Addicted After All (17 page)

“Look, can we just fucking start over?” Ryke asks. “I’m
trying—
”

“The most you’ve done is bring my daughter back from Costa Rica with a broken arm and then write a profanity on her cast. And
no
, we are not starting over. I’m not going to forget how you lied to me about your relationship with her or about living together. I can, however, weigh that against your actions now. Do you understand?”

Ryke restrains himself from rolling his eyes.

Even though I’ve been distancing myself from him, I can still cheer him on. Internally I’m holding up a Team Ryke sign.
You’re doing great, Ryke.
This really is hard for him. He’s so unchanging, unbending. Unlike Connor who’s able to conform to any situation with fluidity.

Ryke takes a controlled breath, and he glances over the boat, checking on Daisy, before he looks back at my father. “I fucking realize that I’m the reason she broke her arm. I take full responsibility for that, but it was also an accident. She’s been in a lot of those that don’t even involve me.”

In Costa Rica, Ryke dared Daisy to jump off the top of a waterfall. After he did it. Halfway up her climb to the top, she slipped on the wet rock and landed badly on her arm. Apparently Ryke didn’t even know she broke a bone. He said that he was about to go after her, but then she jumped off the bottom ledge, into the lagoon.

When she swam up to him, he figured it out. And I could tell—just by his recount of the story—that he blamed himself. He said that if he was spotting her, she wouldn’t have broken a thing.

On the yacht, I don’t hear my dad’s response. A splash sounds in the pool, the water spraying my already damp hair. I spin around and see a figure swimming underneath the water towards me.

I recognize Lo’s black swim trunks, and my world lights up. He nears me, his hands skimming my thighs, and his teeth playfully nip my flesh. My breath hitches, and for a dangerous second, I wonder if he’ll move to another spot. One that calls for his attention.

Cool yourself, Lily.

I repeat the mantra again, and his head pops out of the water, his hands sliding to the small of my back, away from the aching places. It’s better like this.

He brushes his light brown hair out of his face, pretty sexily, and I have to start thinking about hobbits. With large hairy feet. “Did I miss much?” he asks.

I avoid the subject of Twitter and just motion to his brother who’s gone on the defensive again. Ryke stays silent while my dad lectures him about protecting my little sister.

“Yeah, that was bound to happen again,” Lo says with a cringe like he wishes it wasn’t written in stone. I do too. “I’m going to go help him…” Lo is about to climb out of the pool when Ryke shakes his head at my dad, turns his back on him and literally springs off the side of the boat. Jumping into the ocean.

It’s either incredibly dumb or by far the coolest thing he’s ever done.

I think my father was in the middle of a sentence.

My dad’s face turns bright red. No one says anything. Except for Lo. “My older brother just took
shut the fuck up
to a whole new level.” He lets out an amazed laugh. “I would slow clap but your dad is walking this way…” My father glances at us with a huff, and Lo and Connor smile at the same time. A trained fake one that Ryke has yet to learn.

Lo waves, and my father waves tersely back before disappearing inside.

Connor leans against the lounge chair. “This is what happens when you bring dogs on boats. They jump off.”

“Greg is still hoping Ryke can be trained.” Lo kisses my cheek, a random kiss that surprises me. I cling to his side and rest my head on his chest, water droplets rolling down his skin.

Connor goes quiet before he says, “Some people are better as they are.”

My eyes grow in shock.

Connor doesn’t want Ryke to change. Not that much at least.

I don’t think any of us do, but there’s no question that he’s going to have to follow some of my father’s rules. If he doesn’t, I’m afraid it’ll put an irreparable strain on his relationship with Daisy.

And they just have to last.

Raisy is alive.
I won’t believe in anything less.

{ 16 }

LOREN HALE

Even on vacation, to a country I love, my dad never lets me forget reality. He emailed me profiles of every Hale Co. board member with their likes and dislikes. He’s trying to give me an advantage over Lily, Ryke and Daisy. I rarely attempt to change people’s perceptions of me, to kiss ass. I’m afraid the minute I step through the Hale Co. glass double doors, they’re going to say,
what is this fucking kid doing here?

He’s an alcoholic.

He was expelled from college.

He’s a loser.

I’m a natural-born failure.

But I don’t want my son to grow up and have these same impressions of me. I want to be known for more than all of that. I just don’t know how. Part of me believes it’s impossible. I can’t move mountains, no matter how hard I push.

Stop thinking
, I tell myself. My mind won’t shut off. In the yacht’s cabin, I lie on the bed next to Lily, who’s in a deep sleep. I check the clock: 4 a.m.

Four years ago, I’d go grab a bottle of Jameson. Take more than a few swigs. Call it a night after an hour.

I let out a heavy breath and quietly climb off the bed.

The moon bathes the room in blue, and I see a direct path to the door. I sneak out, gently shutting it behind me. And then I proceed down the hallway, knowing my course and destination.

I stop in front of another cabin, lamp light glowing beneath the door. No hesitation or second-guessing, I just open it.

Ryke leans against the headboard in only sweatpants, a paperback folded in hand. His eyes meet mine with questioning and concern. He’s alone, so I close the door and walk further inside.

“Hey,” he says while I take a seat on a wooden chair that faces his bed.

I’m not surprised that he’s awake. If anyone has a fucked up internal clock, it’s my older brother. He’ll alternate between 5 a.m. mornings to 5 a.m. nights, depending on who needs his help and if he’s going climbing.

I rest my forearms on my thighs, slightly hunched. My fingers vibrate, and my leg jostles more than I like. I rub my lips, but it’s clear that he sees my anxiety.

I let out another breath and look up at him. He has his arms on his bent knees, and my eyes fall to the paperback, loosely hanging by his fingers, a picture of a bull on the front cover. “What are you reading?”

His eyes flit to the book. “
The Sun Also Rises
.”

I frown, making out the title from here. “That’s not what it says.”

He tucks the novel away, underneath his pillow. “It’s in Spanish.”

Right. I try to smile but it’s a bitter one. He’s fluent in more languages than I can ever learn. “Is it good?” I ask.

He shrugs. “It’s okay.” He studies my expression for too long, and my gaze drops to my shaking hands.

I breathe out, the strain bursting my lungs. I imagine my non-conformist brother in a suit and tie, pretending to be something he’s not. Entering this bullshit world that he’s purposefully escaped. It’s wrong. And I suddenly say, “I don’t want you to change.” It’s not all selfless. I need him the way that he is.

“You know me,” he says—three words that weren’t true for decades of time. “Do you really think I can fucking change?”

I never thought he could. “The board will never choose you, you realize that?” I snap, my voice more edged. Remorse twists my face. “Not as you are, I mean.” He curses too much. He’s late to everything, even his own birthday. He shelters his intelligence from every fucking person—so they just see this aggressive, unfiltered guy. But all of this is why he’s Ryke Meadows and not me, not Connor.

It’s part of why I love him.

“Fuck them, then,” he says. “But I’m still trying.”

He also never gives up.

I’m scared because I always do, in the end. Pitted against each other—I lose. Every time. I put my fingers up to my lips, my palms pressed together. My foot still taps the ground. And I say, “Just give it to me.”

His features darken, and he slides to the edge of the bed, sitting closer to me as his bare feet hit the floor. “No,” he says, one word that tears a fucking hole inside of me.

“No?” I glare, grinding my teeth. “You don’t even
want
it.”

“Neither do you,” he refutes. “How many times do I have to fucking tell you, Lo, that you don’t owe
him
one fucking thing?” He points at the door.

I swallow hard. “I’m alive because—”

“Because Dad said
yes
to keeping you? Decent people don’t use that to blackmail their children. You had
no choice
in coming into this fucking world. You should have a choice on what you do with your life afterwards. And he’s taking that away from you.”

I shake my head on impulse, but I catch myself and stop. I rub my eyes with the heels of my palms. He’s taking that choice away from Ryke too.

My brother leans forward. “Lo,
please
drop out of this. It’s going to make you fucking sick.”

I tug at the collar of my crew-neck with a cringe. For once, I want to be the strong one. I want to save my brother from this hell. And he’s saying that I’m too weak for it. That I’ll destroy myself before I ever have the chance.

I’d like to believe that I’m better now. But it’s easy to say that I am. It’s harder to prove it.
I want to.
God I want to. “I think…we’re both in agreement that neither of the girls should take over Hale Co.,” I say.

Ryke nods adamantly.

Lily is about to have a baby. Daisy should be outside or whatever she likes to do. They’re only trying to win this because they know that neither Ryke nor I want to live this life.

And they’re trying to protect us as much as we’re trying to protect them.

I ask, “So why don’t we just work together at the beginning?” If we help each other, then maybe the girls won’t even have a chance. It’s a compromise, but in my mind, I see myself taking more of the burden from him. I will, in the end. I’m going to carry his weight for once. “Us against the girls.”

Ryke considers this for a second, his fingers combing through his disheveled hair. And then his brown eyes flit up to mine. “I thought you said the board will never take me as I am.” It’ll be hard. But we’ll still have a shot. We’re Jonathan’s sons. “Why would you want to work with me?”

“Because you’re my brother,” I say without pause, “and I’d rather be with you than against you.”

I can’t fight with Ryke. I need him on my side until the very end, until one of us is chosen. Maybe one day Connor and Ryke will pull away from me, and I’ll no longer lean on them for support.

But it’s only been four months since I last drank alcohol, and their fears have become mine. Of relapsing. I need him.

I need my brother.

I sit up and pull my shoulder back. “So how about it, Ryke Meadows, you want to be miserable with me?”

This is difficult for him to accept.

I see it in his eyes. By agreeing, he’s willfully going to subject me to a certain torture. He’d rather beat me. I’d rather beat him—but I’m not sure I can at the beginning: when I first walk through those glass double doors, when I meet the board’s judgment.

Before I run on my own, I need a crutch. It’s either Ryke Meadows or a bottle of booze. And I can’t let it be the latter.

So this is what I have to do.
Please. Say yes.

He rises to his feet, and I do the same, my heart thrashing in my chest. And then he grabs my hand and hugs me, setting a palm on my back. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s do this together, little brother.”

My muscles finally loosen. For the first time that night.

When we break apart, something bangs into the door. We both flinch, and the sound happens again, a softer
thud
this time.

I step forward but Ryke holds out his hand and says, “I got it.” He cautiously heads to the door and cracks it open. Then he quickly swings it completely ajar.

Daisy stands on the other side, her eyes dazed and far off.

“Daisy?” Ryke says, concern all over his features. He waves his hand at her face. She doesn’t even blink. “Fuck,” he curses.

“She’s sleepwalking,” I guess.

“Yeah.” He moves out of the way as she shuffles forward. “She’s done this a couple times since her new meds.” He gently places a hand on her shoulders and sort of guides her towards the bed without being forceful about it.

I hang back. “Need help?”

“No, I’m good,” he says as Daisy sits on the navy comforter. He’s able to lift her legs up on the mattress. And then he tucks her underneath the blankets while she shuts her eyes. “Fucking fantastic,” he mutters and glances back at me. “I bet you Greg will notice that she’s not in her bedroom in the morning.”

“I’ll tell him that she spent the night with Lily.”

Ryke rocks back in surprise.

I head to the door. “You don’t have to do everything on your own,” I remind him. “I can help you too, you know.” I hear my biting tone again. I wish I could wash it away. But maybe that’s impossible.

He nods a couple times to himself. “I appreciate it.”

“Just don’t ask me for sex advice. I gave it to you fucking once, and you rejected me. A guy can only take so much.”

Ryke flips me off with a weak smile, and then his attention falls back to the blonde girl in his bed. Tomorrow we’re going onshore to Puerto Vallarta—Daisy doesn’t know about what Ryke planned. Neither do the girls.

It’ll be a surprise for her birthday.

Hopefully a good one.

{ 17 }

LILY CALLOWAY

“
Virgin
margarita,” I emphasize for the tenth time. The Spanish translation can’t be that far off from my English. I have a feeling the thirty-something bartender understands this phrase. Especially as he laughs like I should be “living it up” and drinking tequila straight from the bottle. My stomach is blocked by the bar, so it’s not like he can physically see my reasoning.