Hothouse Flower (Calloway Sisters)

by Ritchie, Krista

  “So tell him like a normal human being!” I scream. “Stop saying things like he shit his life away.”

  “This isn’t about Loren. This is about you and me,” he refutes, cutting off that topic. As if there’s no room to even discuss it.

  Fuck him. “If you love him, like you say you do, you’d support his sobriety and you’d stop tearing him down every chance you get.”

  He glares. “If I didn’t motivate him, he wouldn’t be where he is. That’s love. You’ll understand when you have your own children.”

  No fucking way will I ever raise my kids like him. Fuck that.

  I stare at my father for a long moment. He will never change. He is so fucking rooted in his beliefs. It’s either I accept him like this or do what I’ve been doing—try to forget he even exists.

  He opens the door further for me. “Are you ready to put this bullshit behind us, or do you still want to hold onto the fucking past?”

  I’m frozen again. Stuck to the middle of the floor. There’s no nasty retort on my tongue. It’s those words that get to me the most.

  Do you still want to hold onto the fucking past?

  I’m living back there. Where my dad leaves my mom. Where I’m lying for years and years about who I am. Where I feel lost of an identity to call my own.

  But I have all of that now. Fuck, I have more than I ever dreamed of.

  I have a girl I love.

  I have a brother.

  I have a mom who loves me, even if she fucks up.

  I have a dad who wants to be there for me…I look up at him. Who is here for me.

  And I’m Ryke Meadows. I’m a free-solo climber. I’m a celebrity. I’m a fucking sober coach. I have an identity that’s mine. No one took it from me.

  I glance over at my dad again, and I want to see the villain, but I think, maybe, all this time the villain was me. For not moving past this, for not realizing that he’s free to make mistakes too. I don’t know if I’m willing to forgive him right now, but he’s not asking for that.

  He’s letting me take all the fucking time I need.

  I inhale strongly, and I say, “I may never see eye to eye with you.”

  He nods. “I’d rather fight with you at every Sunday dinner than never talk to you again.” He shrugs. “That’s the goddamn truth.”

  “You love me that much?”

  There are fucking tears in his eyes. “More than you can possibly understand, son.”

  A pressure bears down on me, and I ask him something that I’ve never fucking asked him in my entire life. I just always thought I knew the answer. Now I’m not so sure. “Would you be willing to stop drinking for Lo and for me?”

  After a heavy silence, a single tear rolls down his cheek. I see now that he’s fighting an internal battle probably just as powerful and just as rebellious as the one Lo has, as the one I have.

  What he does will change everything.

  < 60 >

  RYKE MEADOWS

  “I still can’t believe it,” my brother says while I drive to our father’s house with Lily and Daisy in the backseat, my Infinity speeding along the roads until I get stopped by another red light. The girls are quiet, both looking out their windows.

  “Me either,” I say. “Seems fucking surreal.”

  “He threw out thousands and thousands of dollars’ worth of booze.” Lo shakes his head. “He had a rare two-hundred-year-old scotch he was planning on giving me as a wedding present, you know that?”

  My eyes flicker to him. “He wanted to give you booze when you’re sober?” Lo has visited our dad almost every day since he started this long journey. It’s been one week since his proclamation in the jail cell, and he hasn’t backed out.

  In my father’s words, He’s no fucking pussy.

  “No, he told me that he was planning to drink it at my wedding himself. He’d have an extra glass for me.” Lo stares off for a second and then he smiles. “We ended up watering the plants with the scotch.” He laughs and says, “You know that son of a bitch has three sober coaches to keep him in line?”

  I hear the happiness in my brother’s voice, and it lifts me to a new place. I’m proud of my father, for finally going to this length for us. It’s not an easy decision. It’s not an easy road. It’s one that Lo knows better than me, and he can say, firsthand, how much pain there is in giving up a crutch rather than relying on it.

  But we’re both going to be here for him.

  “I expected a fucking army,” I tell Lo. “If he’s not going to rehab, he’ll bring rehab to him.” I glance in the rearview at Daisy, who is abnormally still on her seat. Her faraway gaze clenches my stomach. She’s been ignoring her mom after I got arrested. It’s not something I ever wanted for Daisy.

  I drive through a gated community right in the suburbs of Philly, and I park in my father’s driveway. I snap off my seatbelt, and both Lily and Daisy climb out of the car and shut the doors before Lo and I get out. I turn to my brother, a gnawing question surfacing while we’re here.

  “I meant to ask you something,” I say under my breath.

  He removes his gaze off Lily who nervously bites her nails. She’s been more anxious than usual, and I haven’t really talked to my brother about it. But her health is not really my main concern right now. “Yeah?” he asks.

  “Does Lily have many conversations alone with Jonathan?”

  I’ve asked her this once. When I first met her. She told me that she tries to avoid the Hale household—which I took to mean Jonathan, seeing as she was always over the actual house.

  “Is this about the rumors?” Lo wonders with a frown.

  The molestation rumors. They’re still there, growing…festering. Lily’s name is being thrown around, but she’s publicly denied the allegations that Jonathan had any influence on her addiction.

  Add in my “almost” charge for statutory rape, plus our father’s sudden moment to seek addiction counseling, and our family seems like a perfect soap opera.

  “It’s about Daisy,” I say. “I want to make sure I know how much shit she’s going to endure now that she’s dating me. He’s still an asshole, even sober.”

  Lo lets out a short laugh. “Yeah, he told one of his sober coaches to lose twenty pounds and then come back to him.”

  “In those words?”

  “No way. I think he made a forty-year-old man cry.” Lo nods to me. “Don’t worry about Daisy. He won’t talk to her unless it’s about you.” I just don’t want her to be torn down by his harsh comments. He absentmindedly checks his phone, as if something’s been on his mind too. “So I have a list of ten comic manuscripts that I have to narrow down to three. I’m having some trouble deciding. I thought maybe you could help me.”

  I don’t hide my surprise. “Lily and Connor weren’t available?” I know I’m his third fucking choice. I always am.

  “I didn’t ask.” He pauses, an insecurity bubbling up suddenly. “But if you don’t have time or don’t want to, I can have Lily read them. It’s not a big deal.” He goes to check his phone again, but I’m pretty sure there’s no new text.

  “No,” I say quickly. “I want to help.”

  It’s his turn to look surprised. “You sure?”

  Something swells in me. I actually feel like his brother—not just a fucking sober coach he pushes away. “Yeah,” I say with nod. “But I can’t promise that you won’t hate my fucking opinions.”

  “I can definitely promise that.” Lo smiles, not a half-one, not dry or filled with resentment for not being here sooner. It’s a real fucking smile. “But that’s the point. I need someone to look at them a lot differently than me.”

  And I’ve always seen everything different than Lo. Life. Love. Family. It’s like our lives are reflected in a mirror, upside down and flipped. It’s nice to finally meet in the middle, somewhere that makes sense for both of us.

  < 61 >

  DAISY CALLOWAY

  I lie on my stomach beneath Ryke’s sheet, naked. In his apartment
. I have my head buried underneath the pillow and my hand shielding the blue glow of my phone, trying not to wake him.

  3:14 a.m. blinks on the top of my cell, reminding me that not even a night of wild sex—from his kitchen counter to the floor to the bed—puts me to sleep for long. I average a solid four hours, which sucks.

  I open a series of missed texts from my older sister.

  I need out of this house. We’re considering moving to an apartment, but Lily says I would hate it. What do you think? – Rose

  We’ve been on the East coast for a whole week, which has given our publicists enough time to make a press release: Rose Cobalt is expecting a baby! Gossip sites are going crazy speculating the baby’s name and the gender. Lily said the paparazzi tried to climb the hedges the other day, wanting a photo of Rose’s belly. She’s not even showing yet. I heard Connor strengthened the security around their Princeton house, but Rose must have called it quits.

  I send back: You’d absolutely hate it. Not enough closet space.

  And then I open another missed text.

  We’re looking for places in Philly or around the area. – Rose

  I smile. I’m in Philly. Ryke is in Philly. But there are other reasons they’d choose this location too. Calloway Couture and Cobalt Inc. are located here. Nothing is tying them to Princeton, New Jersey. Their commute already sucks, and Lily finishes her final college class in December. She’ll be an official graduate, free to move wherever she likes.

  If they decide to keep living together, that is.

  No one has talked about the separation of Lily and Lo / Connor and Rose yet. They’ve been rooming in the same house for so long that it’d be kinda weird for them to split up. But Rose is pregnant now. Maybe everyone’s just going to move on with their own lives.

  My smile fades. If that’s the case, then I barely got any time with my sisters before they started their own families.

  Being the youngest blows.

  I click into another text.

  I’d really love to talk to you. Please, Daisy. – Mom

  I delete it almost immediately. I don’t even want to think about what she did. I don’t want to let those emotions in, so I push them away like I’ve seen Ryke do so many times before.

  Last unread message:

  Ugh. I need a fucking drink. Pregnancy is making me empathize with Loren. I already hate it. – Rose

  And then my pillow is flung off my head. I’m caught red-handed. Ryke edges closer to me, fully naked, and his leg brushes against mine as he grabs my phone. He checks the time, and his eyes harden. “You slept for a fucking hour, Calloway.”

  “I know. I feel badly about that,” I say. “You can go back to sleep. I won’t disturb you anymore.” I’m about to slide off the bed, but he spreads his strong arm across my back, keeping me on my stomach, right here on his mattress.

  The place between my legs clenches. Oh God. Again? I am so insanely attracted to Ryke Meadows that my body doesn’t know how to handle it.

  He shifts on top of me, and his lips brush against my ear. “That’s not how this works, sweetheart,” he breathes. “I want you in our bed, all fucking night.” Our bed. I smile, being reminded that we’re moving in together. We haven’t told anyone, and we’ve been bouncing back from his apartment to mine, not sure which one we should pick.

  It feels normal though.

  And I guess, in a way, we’ve been doing this since I graduated, just without the sex.

  He pushes the covers off of me, exposing my bare back and bottom underneath him. He kisses my shoulders, his tongue stroking my skin with each deep, sensual kiss. It’s torture—his kisses. They’re the best because they heighten every sensation, but they also make me crave for something hard between my legs.

  I turn my head to watch his broad muscles flex, the lines of his abs sharpening. He is so effing hot. I blink, just to make sure that this isn’t a dream—that I’m truly with the brooding, rough, sexy guy that I’ve known for years.

  His lips descend to my ass, holding my bottom as he kisses my smooth flesh. Ahhh… I feel wet just by the way he’s staring at my body. We share the same expression, the same attraction.

  He flips me over, and I pant heavily. He’s kneeling, towering above me, and my eyes trace his sculpted, lean muscles, the darkness in his eyes. I feel small beneath him. Not because of my age. Just feminine. A girl to his man.

  I need him inside of me. “I think…I think I’m addicted to sex,” I say, not able to catch my breath and I’m just lying here, looking at him.

  He almost smiles. “You love sex. That doesn’t mean you’re addicted to it.”

  “How do you know?” I breathe shallowly.

  “Because you’d be insatiable. You would’ve been looking at porn on your fucking cellphone right then, even after I came inside of you tonight.”

  My lips rise. “Twice.”

  “About to be three times, Calloway.”

  I bunch the sheets in my hands around me and turn my face into the mattress. “You aren’t real,” I say dramatically with a big smile.

  And then he suddenly steps off the bed and yanks my ankle so I reach him. Oxygen rushes out of my lungs. I look at his cock that’s a lot harder than before. There’s not as much pain when he fits inside of me, but if I’m not wet enough for him, he’ll grab lube. He’s really aware of how easily he can hurt me, and his attention to this only makes me love him more.

  But he doesn’t fill me yet.

  He bends my knees, and his head drops between my legs. I gasp before his mouth even touches the tender, aching place that begs for his skill. Ryke excels in many areas, but this has to be on a whole other level.

  I grip his hair as his tongue and lips work on me in sync. I like that he’s the only guy who’s every gone down on me before, who’s ever kissed that intimate spot. He locks my legs from moving, his arms around them as he holds my waist with two strong hands.

  I alternate from clenching his hair or placing my hand on his. “Ryke,” I gasp, my breath quickening. “Oh God…I can’t…” My back starts to buck, and I clutch his head.

  His mouth is right there.

  His head is between your legs.

  He’s kissing you.

  He has your body in his grasp.

  He’s naked.

  I’m about to freak out.

  I cry, my mouth opening and my fingers scrunching his thick brown hair. Oh my God. I barely catch my breath as I watch him stand up and then place one knee on the mattress. I’ve seen him do this move so many times before—the one knee on the bed to get a little closer to my body. But never without clothes. Never with an erection and me lying naked below.

  He pulls my leg up to his waist, and as he grips his shaft, he slowly slides his hard cock inside of me. I think I just whimpered.

  Normally I’d sit up to meet him, but my limbs have jellified. I let him pound against me just like this. And I watch him absorb the way our bodies meet, his hardness rocking into me with a pulsing rhythm. I feel so full—I can’t even describe. There’s no room for anything else but him.

  A nerve electrifies, and I moan. The sensations never die down. His gaze focuses on me. He looks intoxicated by my reactions and body’s responses. His lips part at one point, and he ends up putting his hand on the mattress, lowering closer to me, and his erection goes deeper. Still one foot on the ground.

  “Ryke!” I cry, the pleasure too much. I cover my face with my hands. I’m done. Blown away. A million pieces. But that’s not true. I’m still climbing this freakin’ mountain. It’s so intense that I just want to reach the top already. I suffocate for breath, but my lungs won’t cooperate.

  He tears my hands away from my face, and I rest them against his neck as he kisses me strongly. He helps me breathe with the embrace, forcing oxygen to my lungs, and then he lifts my leg a little higher, and my head tilts back.

  He drives into me without stopping. His pace picks up, and his eyes flicker between his dick hammering into me and my m
outh that refuses to close, cries breaching my lips.

  He groans. “Fuck.” He moves faster and faster. So hard. So crazy. So fucking insane. “Dais…”

  “Ryke…” My hands find his, one on the backside of my thigh, raising my leg, the other on the bed beside my hair. I hold both, and with one more thrust, he’s true to his word.

  He releases, and I feel my body clenching around him. I shut my eyes and breathe. I just ran around the world in thirty-five minutes.

  He stays inside of me while he crawls onto the bed and pulls me into his arms. We kiss for probably another five minutes. And then as we both relax against each other, he says, “This wasn’t to help you fall asleep.”

  He’s mentioned on numerous occasions that he would never medicate me with sex. “It was a just because fuck?” I ask with a smile.

  “No,” he whispers, “it was an I love you fuck.”

  I brighten. “No wonder it was my favorite.”

  He combs my hair, my breathing beginning to match his steady rhythm. “Do you need me to check the doors?” he asks.

  “I’m okay.” I’m not as paranoid as I was before we were together. I don’t think starting a relationship necessarily fixed my problems. But knowing Ryke will be here for me one-hundred percent—it’s a security that I didn’t have before. It squashes most of my irrational fear.

  I rest my cheek against his chest. I don’t fall back to sleep right away. And he stays awake with me for however long it takes. Just holding my bare, tired body until slumber finally calls me to a peaceful place.

  I drift to sleep in his arms, where I know I’ll be safe.

  < 62 >

  RYKE MEADOWS

  Movie night at Rose’s Princeton house has already turned into a fucking fight. Gravity stays paused on the flat screen with Sandra Bullock suspended in space. Besides the furniture, the TV is the only thing left standing in the living room. All the books are packed away and the pictures on the walls have been taken down and rolled in bubble wrap.

  Lo and Rose have been fighting for the past ten minutes, and unfortunately Lo’s go-to move is to throw popcorn at her. She swats away another flying kernel.