“I knew you wouldn’t hit back,” I say. “And it’s not like it was a complete selfless act.”
He rolls his eyes. “Can’t you take a compliment and not turn it into a character assassination of yourself?”
“Maybe someday,” I say. But not today. I pat his shoulder and then drop my hand.
I’m more at peace with him now than I have been in years. It took blood and a hot desert, but we reached this place.
I can almost breathe again.
{ 60 }
2 years : 03 months
November
LOREN HALE
“Get away from the window, Daisy,” I say with edge. She presses her forehead to the glass and clutches the door handle, peering out of the car as far as she can. But her view is blocked by cameras who attempt to capture us through the tinted windows. Paparazzi have swarmed my father’s Escalade that’s parked outside of the jail. Back in Philadelphia.
Anderson, my dad’s driver, sits idly in the front seat while we wait for my father and hopefully my brother to return.
Not that long ago, Ryke free-solo climbed three rock formations in Yosemite without falling. All I wanted was for him to survive, and he looked tired but accomplished when he reached the bottom. I was proud of him.
And now he had to come home to this shit. Life sucks most of the time.
“I shouldn’t go in there…” Daisy recognizes with a trembling voice. She wants to go retrieve Ryke from jail, but she can’t do a damn thing. Neither can I. My father, however, has more power than us. We just have to be patient.
I rub my lips, irritated. Just at the whole situation we’re in. “Ryke wanted you to go home with Connor and Rose, so I can’t imagine that he’d be happy if he saw you walk into the jail.”
“I know,” she murmurs, wiping a stray tear quickly.
I wince, not liking when she cries, at all. I already sense a change in my relationship with Daisy since she’s become my brother’s girlfriend. She used to be like a little sister to me, but my obligation to her now feels larger when Ryke isn’t here. Like I have to be a force that keeps her safe when he’s gone. He’d do the same for Lily, and it’s a role that I’ve easily accepted. I pat the leather seat next to me. “Scoot back.”
Daisy reluctantly distances herself from the window, about to slide to the center seat.
“Not that far,” I say before she reaches the middle. “The cameras can get a picture of you from the windshield.” This way she’ll be blocked by the front seat.
She nods, her eyes swollen from crying. Tear streaks are dried on her face, even her left cheek with the long scar. It’s less red than it used to be, but it’ll always be noticeable.
“I hate my mom for doing this to him,” Daisy says softly.
“Yeah,” I say, leaning my head back, “Samantha Calloway isn’t a bright ray of sunshine.” I think of all the pain she’s caused Lily through this brutal silence and cold shoulder act. And now, with what she did to Ryke, who’s completely innocent—
“No, I really, really hate her,” Daisy cries angry tears, turning her head towards me. Christ. It’s scary—seeing malice on a girl who’s never worn it before, someone so full of life. “I quit modeling, and instead of being okay with it, she blamed Ryke and did this.” Her phone is clutched in her shaking hand. “What people are saying…none of it’s true. You know that, right?”
Yeah, I know. I’m also very familiar with defamatory allegations, being falsely accused. I snatch the phone out of her hand and scroll through her Twitter feed while she rubs her eyes.
@GBANews: Ryke Meadows under arrest for statutory rape. #BreakingNews
@PoPhillyFan12: #Raisy is dead :( I can’t believe Ryke would do that! #TeamCoballoway
@Sucker3Punch: He’s still hot imo. Why’d Daisy have to tempt him like that? #Raisy is dead bc of that ho.
@WendyBird_1: #Raisy is dead *cries*
“Raisy is dead” is trending on Twitter. I try to hide a grimace. Ryke and Daisy were one of the most popular parts of the reality show, for all the flirting that pushed boundaries but never crossed the line. I didn’t think that their fans would revolt, not even over something like this.
“There’s no evidence against him, Daisy,” I remind her. “People will get over it.” A camera lens taps the window, crowding too close. She barely even flinches at the noise.
“They didn’t drop what happened to you,” she says softly.
I stiffen. “It’s different.” There’s an ongoing investigation for the molestation case, and they have family friends saying things like Jonathan Hale has physically grabbed Loren in public. Maybe just the back of my head. They’re stretching what little they’ve seen.
“It’s not the media that hurts the most,” she whispers. “I just…” She tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear, the strand dyed pink. “I feel so betrayed by my mom.” Samantha was the one who tipped off the police.
I shut off her phone. “Ryke won’t be charged with statutory rape. They have no evidence, Daisy. Just concentrate on that.” It’s the one silver lining. Samantha just wanted to throw Ryke into the media hellfire, let them tear at his character for a while since he’s dating her daughter. I don’t want him to have to deal with this anymore than I want Daisy to.
“Maybe I pushed him too hard…that’s what everyone says, you know? That I tempted him.”
I glare at her. “First of all, you both didn’t sleep together until you were legal.” I internally cringe at the thought of them doing anything other than holding hands. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with Daisy Calloway. “And secondly, Ryke is going to bitch you out the minute you blame yourself. So rethink your first statement to him.”
Her chin quivers. “No, I blame my mom…more than anyone.”
I don’t add what she probably already knows. This goes beyond Samantha being pissed that Daisy quit modeling. She hates Ryke’s mother, so she wasn’t ecstatic upon learning that her daughter was dating the offspring of Sara Hale. I don’t even think Greg Calloway is all that excited about the idea. For the same reason I wasn’t: Ryke expresses himself in an aggressive way with very few words. I wouldn’t want that kind of guy dating my daughter. Not that I’ll ever have one.
Suddenly the cameras break from the Escalade in a wave, rushing towards the jail. Daisy slides closer to the door and grips the handle.
“Don’t leave the car,” I warn.
She inhales sharply and says, “He’s coming out!” Tears flood her eyes, overwhelmed and clearly in love with my brother. I can’t deny that fact.
I only have an awesome view of cameramen with gnarly beards. I sigh heavily, wishing they’d hurry up. I almost stick my head through the middle of the seat, just to look, but my joints are welded together in agitation.
And then, the front door swings open. “Ryke, did you sleep with Daisy when you were on the reality show?! Are you going to trial?!” But Ryke doesn’t climb in.
My father takes the front seat next to Anderson. Before he slams the door, he shouts back, “There is no trial because he hasn’t been charged. Write that up in your goddamn papers.” He shuts them out, drowning the noise for point two seconds.
Because the backdoor, nearest Daisy, opens. The cameras go wild behind Ryke. Yelling so many things at once and trying to edge closer to catch a picture of Daisy. She kneels on the seat while Ryke stands right outside the car.
“Ryke, I’m so sor—”
He leans down and kisses her, with the door purposefully ajar so the cameras can capture the moment. No shame. Good for him. Though their embrace is a little much for me. I have to look away when it’s clear his tongue slips into her mouth.
My father is really quiet in the front seat. He keeps clearing his throat like he’s choked up. I frown, what happened in the jail?
After another second, Ryke slips in the car and slams the door closed. Daisy is about to slide in the middle seat between me and my brother, but Ryke pulls her onto his lap. He whispers
in her ear, and then she nods and rests her head on his shoulder.
“You okay?” I ask Ryke as Anderson speeds off towards his apartment complex or maybe my dad’s house. One of the two. The paparazzi pile into their cars quickly, but we have distance on them.
“I’ll be fine,” he says, hugging Daisy closer to his chest. I notice that one of his hands rubs her lower back in a circular motion. He finally looks at me. “Dad has something to tell you.”
My brows furrow, and I just wait for my father to speak.
He audibly coughs into his hand, definitely choked up now.
Ryke glowers at the headrest. “Dad,” he says through gritted teeth.
And then my father rotates in his seat to face me. His dark brown hair seems grayer by his temples, his face more severe and forehead more wrinkled.
In one breath, he says, “I’m going to get sober.”
My mouth slowly falls. I had to hear him wrong. “What was that?” My pulse kicks up a notch. What was that?
He rolls his eyes. “You’re really going to make me say it again?”
I freeze in shock. I contemplate what happened, how he refused to mumble the words aloud with this back turned to me. My dad isn’t a coward, but this is a proclamation so weighted that I can’t accept it fully. “Yeah,” I snap. “Say it again.”
He sighs heavily. “I’m not going to drink anymore, son.”
I scrutinize him for a long moment. And come to one conclusion. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“You and me both,” he mutters but determination creases his brow.
Our father wouldn’t do this out of the kindness of his black fucking heart. So I look to Ryke. “What’d you do?” I ask.
Jonathan answers first. “He’s going to be a part of this family.” He turns back around and I hear him say under his breath, “Like he was always supposed to be.”
I read between the lines.
To have his son back in his life, my dad is willing to be sober.
It’s a hell of a declaration, and I don’t even mind that he wasn’t willing to do that for me all these years. I just mull over the possibility that I may one day see the impossible. My dad without his whiskey.
{ 61 }
2 years : 03 months
November
LILY CALLOWAY
I have been included into the boy club by accident. No one noticed me except Lo, but he’s not about to kick me out of my father’s den. This has to mean that my invisibility powers are blooming. Maybe my baby is magical. The thought almost makes the pregnancy not so bad.
“What are you wearing?” Lo asks his brother with a frown. Connor, Lo, and Sam dragged Ryke into the den the moment he parked his Ducati in my parent’s driveway, Daisy with him. The Sunday luncheon starts in thirty minutes, so I thought it was a success that he showed up on time or even at all, clearly putting effort into his relationship with my little sister. He accepted my dad’s invitation even after my mom had Ryke thrown in jail. This was my father’s version of waving a white flag.
Ryke making peace and putting the issue behind him actually eases a lot of tension. And I know he’s doing this to try to repair the bridge between Daisy and my parents, the one that’s been crumbling.
“It’s lunch,” Ryke says like they’re crazy. “I’m wearing a fucking shirt and pants.”
All of the other guys are dressed in button-downs and black slacks. “It’s formal,” Lo tells his brother. “I thought you realized that.”
Ryke glares at the ceiling and then checks his watch. “I don’t have time to go back.”
“You can switch with me,” Lo says, already unbuttoning his shirt. I sit on the armrest of the couch, watching my boyfriend shed his clothes. I cross my ankles, and Lo glances back at me knowingly. The corner of his lips rise.
Yes. I am very, very attracted to you. But my traitorous-self stops fawning over his defined muscles and sculpted chest. My smile fades. Lo frowns at me, but he’s distracted by his brother, who anxiously runs his hands through his hair. He really needs to stop messing with the strands. My parents don’t like the whole disheveled, I-just-rolled-out-of-bed look.
“Aren’t you going to get in trouble for wearing a regular T-shirt?” he asks Lo like what the fuck? Seemingly, there is a flaw in this plan.
But Sam clears it up. “He’s Loren Hale.” Yep, that about describes the difference nicely.
Ryke’s face hardens. He touches his chest. “And I’m Ryke Meadows. What the fuck are you getting at?”
Sam whistles. “You don’t know Greg Calloway that well, do you?”
Lo passes Ryke the shirt. “What Sammy is trying to say is that I’m going to get special treatment. You’re not.” He clarifies, “Dad raised me and he’s Greg’s best friend. Plus, I’m not dating the youngest Calloway girl.” Lo faces Sam Stokes, who stands rigid, a string of animosity between them. Faint but visible in their closed-off postures. “I got the best free pass while you had to jump through ten-thousand hoops. Poppy’s money must have meant so much to you.”
“No amount of money is worth the tests that Greg put me through,” Sam says, his back arched in defense. “If you don’t believe that I love Lily’s sister—”
“I’m just messing with you,” Lo says sharply.
Ryke holds the button-down, solidified to stone as he processes what this means. I have a good feeling that Ryke will be tested just like Sam. The question is: will he last to the very end or just give up on the idea? “And Connor got a free pass too?” he asks.
“I was trusted from the start,” Connor says, busy texting, only half in on this conversation. “Not shocking to anyone.” He grins.
“Maybe if I punched you, you’d be a little fucking shocked,” Ryke says.
“Only because you always talk about it but never actually do it,” Connor says. “What’s surprising is that I haven’t returned you to the pound. I prefer my animals with a bigger bite.”
Ryke flips him off.
I spring to my feet and sidle next to Lo, my arm curving around his bare waist. I feel his fingers brush the nape of my neck. Lily 1.0 would have turned this scenario into a very, very sexual fantasy. Lily 3.0 has snuffed most of them out, but I stand on the tips of my toes to kiss his cheek.
That felt good. Even better when Lo wears a genuinely happy smile.
My body warms. Maybe I can tell him today. After lunch. He seems to be in a much better place.
“I know Greg doesn’t like me, but I’m trying. Isn’t being here enough?” Ryke asks.
“No,” Sam says. “It’s a small start, but it’s definitely not enough. I spent years trying to gain his trust and his acceptance into the Calloway family. Since Jonathan is your dad, it shouldn’t take you as long, but no offense, you’re notorious for being with many women. I even questioned what you’re doing with Daisy.”
Ryke rolls his eyes, agitated, but has no reply. He takes off his dark green tee, and I train my eyes to stay on Loren Hale for a prolonged second.
“You have a tattoo?” Sam asks with a mixed expression like: you’re screwed, buddy and I feel sorry for you.
I pipe in, “Didn’t you watch Princesses of Philly?” During the show, Ryke spent many weeks filling in the tattoo along his shoulder and chest: a phoenix with some red and orange coloring. A black chain is tied around the ankles of the bird and extends along his ribcage, ending with an anchor by his hip. That anchor is in a naughty place, and he knows it.
Sam just realizes that I’ve crept into the room. Invisibility gone. “I never watched the show, no.”
Oh.
Ryke puts on Lo’s nice shirt and starts buttoning it. “So what if I have a tattoo?”
“Greg hates tattoos,” he says.
“That’s too bad,” Ryke says flatly, “because his daughter has one.”
Whaaa. “Which sister?” I ask.
Ryke gives me a look like I’m being dumb.
Oh. Right. Daisy.
Sam scratches the back of his h
ead. “Word of advice, don’t mention it now, or really ever. He’ll think you’re a bad influence on her.”
“He already thinks that,” Ryke retorts. “Just say it: I’m fucked.”
“Maybe you should fix your hair,” I suggest.
He lets out a frustrated growl and tries to comb his fingers through the thick, messy strands. He’s making it worse. “Stop looking at me with that face, Lily,” he retorts, more nervous than I’ve ever seen him.
“What face?”
“Your constipated face.”
I gape. “That is just mean.”
“That was pretty mean,” Lo says.
“It’s the fucking truth.”
I cross my arms. “You know what, I was going to help fix your hair, but I’m retracting my offer.” I raise my chin in confidence. Take that.
Connor finds a hole in my declaration. “You can’t retract an offer that was never stated.”
I look at Ryke. “Would you like me to fix your hair?” He opens his mouth, but I cut him off. “I retract my offer. Ha!” I raise my fist to Lo, and he knuckle-bumps me. And then he kisses my temple. I got a kiss out of that. I try not to smile too hard.
“As fun as this is,” Sam says with his phone in hand, not sounding as amused as the rest of us, “we better head into the dining room. Poppy just texted me. Jonathan is here, and apparently Samantha’s not coming.”
“She’s embarrassed about what happened,” Connor clarifies. “Good thing for you, Ryke, you may not have to deal with her for a while.”
“Fucking fantastic,” he says, heading to the door. I’m not sure my mom’s silent treatment is any better than her constant, nagging presence. At least, for me the quiet moments have granted more nausea than the early weeks of my pregnancy.
Lo slips the green shirt over his head. “Ready?” he asks me. Lo and I don’t attend luncheons all that much, but we decided to come to this one in support of Ryke and his relationship with Daisy. It won’t be as hard with my mom here, but I still have a huge baby bomb to drop today.
Thrive Page 36