Yeah. I guess we will.
I’ve drawn closer to Lo, I realize, my ankle hooked over his, but it’s not a sexual action. It’s just a natural one.
* * *
While Lo grabs waters from inside, I decide to wade in the pool for longer than a couple seconds this time. I’ve been scrolling through his cellphone. Not the best idea since that picture of me bent over, reaching for sunglasses, has turned into an internet meme. My brows crinkle at the dozens of photoshopped images. There’s one where Ryke grabs me from behind instead of just standing there.
Where I’m reaching for a dildo instead of sunglasses.
Where Loren and Ryke are cropped out and replaced by hot dogs.
It’s awful. Though their photoshop skills are pretty good. I have to give them credit for that.
“Connor,” Rose says, her lounge chair scooted next to his. A paperback perched on his lap, his hand has yet to leave her bare neck. He massages her while she clutches an empty ice bucket. Rose risked vomiting again to join me outside.
It takes a solid second to realize that Rose commanded him to do something since she’s out of commission. Connor needs no more info to read her well.
He just stretches forward and steals my phone right from me. And then he settles back, his hand returning to Rose like nothing just happened.
“That was mean,” I tell him. “I was doing important research.”
“If I didn’t do it, she would’ve tried,” Connor explains, passing the cell to my sister. “And I don’t want my wife moving around.”
Rose searches through the phone’s history and then gives me a cold look.
I raise my hands out of the pool. “They were hard to avoid.”
“The more you stare at these, the more paranoid you become. If anyone is jumping overboard, it’s me.” She went from slaughtering the boat to drowning herself. I take it that she’s feeling pretty lousy still.
Connor flips a page in his book and says something in French.
She replies back, shutting her eyes tightly. He pulls her closer to his side, his arm sliding around her shoulders. Hugging her in comfort. He whispers another French word and then kisses her forehead.
I frown, wishing I could understand them. Even with my studying, I can only pick up a few words here and there. I block the sun with my fingers and scrutinize the spine on Connor’s book. A smile replaces my frown. It’s C.S. Lewis’ The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.
For Christmas, I gifted Connor the entire Chronicles of Narnia series. Normal people ask for things they want for Christmas, but Connor asked us to gift him things we like. He consumed Lo’s present—G.R.R. Martin’s Song of Fire and Ice series—in a matter of three weeks. Now he must be working on my gift.
With a happier mood, my gaze drifts and lands on Ryke and Daisy, both of which sit on the silver railing near the stern. We’re anchored, so the yacht doesn’t wobble too badly. Daisy takes off her shirt, and Ryke wears her hairband around his wrist. Her blonde hair and dyed green tips are tangled and slightly frizzy.
I’m too far away to pick up their conversation, though Ryke smiles and that says enough.
“They’re a good couple,” I say aloud. And then I turn back to Rose and Connor, leaning my arms against the ledge. “Why does the media insist on destroying something beautiful?”
Rose slips her Chanel sunglasses on, her knee curved towards Connor, almost lying on her side. She seems more relaxed though.
Connor glances at Rose, his hand placed on her thigh. “Is this a rhetorical question?”
“I think so.”
It wasn’t, but maybe there isn’t an answer.
Connor ditches his book to scroll through his phone, glimpsing at Rose every half minute to check on her. And when his eyes fix back on the cell, he suddenly frowns. “Lily, did you…” Even though his chair is propped up, he sits even straighter. “You joined Twitter?”
“Just for two seconds,” I say, raising my hands again. It was really hard finding a username since variations of “Lily Calloway” were already taken by fans. I ended up with @lilycallowayX23, and I sent a total of three very important tweets.
“Right now?” he asks. “You joined Twitter five minutes ago, while we were all sitting here?”
I squint. “Is this a rhetorical question?”
Rose snatches his phone to confirm. “I don’t understand why you always use that OTP thing.”
“Because it’s awesome,” I say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I had to let the Twitterverse know that I am one-hundred percent in support of Team Raisy.” Our publicists should’ve thought of this strategy months ago. I’m only helping.
And these should clear up my stance on the matter. Tweet 1: This is the official Twitter account of Lily Calloway. Hooray!
I had to announce myself.
Tweet 2: #Raisy is my favorite OTP. I ship it.
Tweet 3: Ryke & Daisy are cuter than cute right now. #Raisy is alive.
I will make this trend. No more stupid “Raisy is dead” anymore.
“I know I didn’t pass it by the publicist,” I say, “but it really can only help.”
Connor and Rose suddenly go quiet and very still. They exchange a few words in French to each other, and she delicately passes him his phone back.
I frown. “What?”
They’re holding hands now. Like a united force.
My heart thuds.
Connor actually removes his sunglasses, his blue eyes very calm. It makes me less nervous. “Lily,” he says, “it sort of seems like you’re trying too hard. Does that make sense?”
“She understands,” Rose tells him. “You don’t have to talk down to her.”
I don’t understand though. “I’m just expressing myself.”
“You need to tweet more then,” he tells me. “Because the way this comes across—it makes it look like you’re trying to cover up something.”
I shake my head fiercely. “That’s not what I was trying to do.”
“I know,” he says quickly. “I know, and other people will believe you.”
“Okay good.” I swallow a lump that’s risen. Where’s Lo?
Daisy is laughing, full-bellied laughs that pulls my attention over to her. Ryke has a brooding expression, but his lips curve upward too.
In two seconds flat, Ryke purposefully shoves Daisy’s shoulder. With force.
She plummets off the side of the boat, a larger laugh echoing. It looked mean, not nice or friendly, but I’m sure my wild, daring sister loved it.
“Ryke!” A strict voice booms across the stern. My father—with his salt-and-pepper hair, pressed khakis and polo shirt—storms over to this side of the boat. He looks ready to throw Ryke overboard.
Connor and Rose straighten, on alert.
My nerves swarm my belly, and I glance over my shoulder, waiting for Lo to appear. He’s nowhere in sight though.
“You can’t just push my daughter off the boat!” my father yells.
Ryke stands, but he’s still outside the railing. His muscles are all strained, and his jaw locks, which isn’t the only sign that he’s frustrated and angry. It’s all over his face. “No offense, but everything I fucking do annoys you.”
“Then maybe you should change that,” my dad retorts.
Ryke instinctively shakes his head.
“No?” my dad says with distaste. Their voices are much louder than Ryke’s previous conversation with Daisy. I can hear most everything.
“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 fr
om 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.”
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