Addicted After All

by Krista Ritchie

  I wonder when he’ll realize that there’s no reason. That it’ll never matter. It’ll never be important. He should just tell me because we’re family.

  But he didn’t grow up with that sense of inclusion. The Calloway sisters did.

  I did because I had Lily.

  He had no one.

  I get that now.

  Lily pokes me in the arm. “My mom gave me these.” She hands me a small stack of business cards. I flip through them. I zone in on the profession. Nanny. Nanny. Daycare specialist. Nanny. Nanny. Childcare assistant. My stomach rolls over.

  I’ve already told Samantha that we’re not hiring nannies. “Rose,” I say, licking my lip. “Did you get these?” I stretch and pass her the business cards.

  Her shoulders stiffen as she inspects them. “No.”

  Lily swallows hard. “I’m doing an okay job, right?” Her voice cracks at the end.

  Poppy reaches out and places a hand on Lily’s knee. “You’re doing amazing. Don’t worry about what anyone else says.” Her voice carries warmth, and I see Lily’s fear pop in her expression. She’s worried that she doesn’t sound like that. It’s easier thinking you’re a warm person next to Rose Calloway, but stand next to Poppy and anyone appears rough around the edges.

  I rub Lily’s back, making small circles. “Don’t even think about your mom,” I tell Lil. “Just remember the fantastic belated birthday sex you’ll be getting in a few weeks.”

  She simultaneously blushes and inhales with more eagerness. I wrap my arms tighter around her waist, and she holds onto them.

  My father laughs loudly at something, and it distracts all of us for a second. Connor takes a larger swig of his wine. He’ll need a refill soon. “Has the board made a decision yet?” he asks.

  We have no more news than the last standings, but we’ve been to another function. I can’t tell what the board is thinking. They’re as pokerfaced as Connor sometimes.

  I drink my soda, craving something sharper. “The board doesn’t need to make a decision,” I say. “It’s my title. So you can all self-sabotage any day now.” The edge in my voice hurts my ears. I hate it. “By the end of the month, you can call me Mr. Hale, CEO. We’ll even have a party.” I feign excitement with a small gasp. “Ryke can bring the tacos, and Connor, here, will supply the Glenfiddich. Won’t you, love?”

  The entire room deadens.

  The tension and silence is so thick that it’s hard to breathe.

  I don’t know why I said that. To be an asshole. Maybe it’s something deeper. But everyone catches the hidden meaning behind my words.

  The first time I ever relapsed was by drinking a bottle of Glenfiddich.

  Connor’s bottle.

  I wait for Connor to banter back and ease the tension. Like he always does. But he stares off at the rug, not even looking in my direction.

  “Come on, it was a joke,” I say dryly, my ribs binding around my lungs.

  Connor suddenly rises to his feet, visibly upset. And he’s trying hard to hide it, avoiding everyone’s gazes. “You’ll have to excuse me for a second,” he says softly, sidestepping past the armrest.

  “Connor,” I say before he leaves. I feel sick. Like I might puke. “It was a joke.” I think if I emphasize this, he’ll forgive me.

  He doesn’t turn back.

  Not once.

  I watch him walk out the parlor door. Vanishing from sight.

  { 42 }

  LOREN HALE

  I glance at the doorway for the fifth time. I really thought I’d never be able to upset Connor. That no matter what I’d say, what I’d do, he’d always be my friend. I rub my lips, not able to even stomach the idea of losing him over a fucking comment I made.

  Lily slides off my lap. She cups her hands around my ear. “Just go,” she whispers, encouraging me to talk to him. Should I though?

  I’ve never had a real guy friend until Connor. Pathetic, sure. But I didn’t grow up with bros or teammates and sports. I had Lily. And the friends I have now, I can count on my hand. Hurting them means something different to me.

  This pushes me over. I rise from the couch.

  I stop on my way out, just to look at Rose. I don’t want to make things worse. She gives me a single nod in confirmation, like I’m doing the right thing here.

  Okay…

  In five seconds flat, I’m out the door. He’s not on the patio. Or in the kitchen. And he didn’t head to the bathroom. I pass the library, the last room. I want to check there before I head upstairs. The wooden door creaks as I open it, and then I silently curse myself for not looking here sooner.

  It’s a goddamn library. Of course he’d be here.

  Bookshelves line every wall, top and bottom floors, sliding ladders accompany them. No windows. This room has always been for show. I can’t remember a time when I’d seen anyone in here. Except maybe hide-and-go-seek when we were little. Lily always tried to wedge behind a bookshelf. It freaked me out when I got older, thinking it’d fall on her or something.

  It’s weird now, seeing a person in this room. Actually perusing the shelves and removing a dusted hardback from its permanent position.

  Connor’s back is turned to me, but I’m sure he heard me shut the door.

  I step forward, thinking he’ll spin around.

  He doesn’t.

  He blows off the dust and flips through the crisp pages.

  A lump lodges in my throat, and I clear it with a cough. What the hell is wrong with me?

  “Rose is looking for you,” I lie. My breath cages as I wait for him to speak. It’s in this moment that I know how much I value our friendship. And how it’s not invulnerable like I hoped.

  “If she was looking for me, she’d be here instead of you.” He shelves the book and chooses another. I open my mouth to respond, but he cuts me off. “I’m not in the mood to talk with you, Lo.”

  I can’t hold back. “It was a joke, Connor,” I snap, on the defensive. “I didn’t mean it like you think I did.” Did I, though? I can’t exactly tell. Something black is crawling out of me. Slowly. Eking like tar.

  He returns the hardback and rotates to face me, stuffing his hands in his pockets. I’m overly aware of how fragile I am in his presence. And I fucking hate it right now. He lets nothing cross his face. Nothing that makes me feel stronger and better.

  I just feel like a fucking idiot. No. Screw this. “You can’t get upset over one fucking joke,” I sneer, pain in my voice. I wish it wasn’t there. So goddamn apparent. Part of me wants to forget about this. And just move on. The other part knows I brought it up for a reason.

  “It’s not a joke to me,” he says flatly.

  I let out a weak laugh. “Right.”

  Connor looks incensed for once, his chest rising and falling heavily. His blue eyes narrowing at me.

  “Am I poking the robot?” I ask him with a bitter, painful smile. “Do you feel something, huh?” I extend my arms. “I’m your fucking liability. You should’ve known this day was going to come.” And everything just explodes in my body. Words my father said. Why would Connor keep me around? To manipulate me? All so he could get closer to Rose? I have no clue, and it’s ripping through me. To think that I could’ve—

  “I carried you in my arms,” he suddenly says, his eyes bloodshot. “That day you relapsed was the worst night of my life.” He points at the ground. “It’s not a joke to me.”

  I have no memory of it—I blacked out. I choke out another laugh, only this one hurts a million times worse. “Great. I’m glad we have that worked out.” I have nothing else to say. Honestly, I’d like to down Maker’s Mark.

  “Lo…” He attaches nothing else to my name. I can’t read his mind, so I turn around, expecting him to leave it at that. But as I head to the door, he runs after me.

  Connor catches my arm and spins me around. “Lo, wait.” I’ve never seen his eyes this red before.

  “I get it,” I tell him. He carried me while I was passed out, and he was freaked.
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  His hand drops off me, and he shakes his head. “No you don’t.”

  A weight builds on my chest. And I have to ask. I can’t just guess anymore. “Am I a liability to you?” I clench my teeth hard, suppressing everything that threatens to overflow.

  “Yes,” he says truthfully.

  I nod a couple times, letting this fact sink in. “Have you manipulated me?”

  He twists his watch on his wrist, his gaze falling to the ground in thought before flitting back to me. “I can tell what people need, and I—”

  “Stop,” I choke out. I don’t want to hear him explain. That he pretended to be my friend. He used me. “All you have to say is yes or no.”

  “It’s not that simple,” he tells me, a tremor in his usually brick-walled voice.

  “It is!” I shout at him. I point at my chest. “You either fucking played me or you didn’t!”

  “I love you,” he refutes, his gaze daggered on me.

  It takes me aback. Because Connor has admitted to only loving himself. To then loving Rose. No one else. But I know this isn’t sexual or romantic. It’s the kind of love that I have for my brother. The kind that Rose has for her sisters.

  He grimaces like the fact is hard for him to accept. “Lo, I don’t…love many people. But there is no manipulation in what I feel for you. The truth is, I gave you what I thought you needed, affection and praise, but I had no motives for it. I didn’t use you for anything.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but he raises his hand quickly.

  “Wait, let me finish.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “You’re my liability because I love you. The night you relapsed, I thought you were going to die.” He pauses. “…and that fact nearly crippled me. I couldn’t even drive, Lo.” He shakes his head like he doesn’t want to imagine that night. “I care about you, what happens to you, and it’s a weakness any way I look at it. Like your father once asked, what do I get out of it? I told him the truth. I get your friendship. That’s all I want.”

  I process his words. I didn’t think he cared about me like that. In the back of my mind, I really believed that he endured my personality because of my status and my connection to the Calloways. I’ve tried to be okay with it.

  Even after years, it seemed like I gave him more of myself than he ever gave me. He’s seen me at some brutal lows, and I’ve never seen him flinch. Except maybe right now. It’s like he took off some of his armor for me, just to say that he loves me.

  It’s honesty that I needed. I feel like I can breathe more easily, knowing from Connor, not from Rose, that our friendship is real.

  I meet his eyes. “Most people can’t stand me, you know.”

  He laughs into a million-dollar grin. “And most people can’t take all of me. I’ve realized that the people who can are the ones I love deeply.”

  “Is this all of you?” I ask him.

  He nods. “Yes. Mostly.”

  “Mostly?”

  “I can’t always express myself the way that you want to see…” he trails off.

  Anger, I realize. He won’t let me see his. Not to the degree that it can reach. “Okay,” I say. “Okay.” I exhale a strained breath and then freeze as a thought hits me cold. “You mentioned my dad…does he know?” I frown, my brows pinching.

  “I’ve been fighting with Jonathan because he thinks I’m toying with your emotions. He found out that I’ve slept with a guy before. Years ago, no one you would know. Just a friend of a friend…” Connor trails off, loosening his tie.

  I’m sure my dad thinks Connor is coming onto me or something stupid. It’s not like that. But after the video in Mexico where we kissed… “Shit.” I pinch the bridge of my nose.

  “He’s just protecting you,” Connor says. “And his way of doing that is by telling me to put a considerable amount of distance between us. With the threat of or else. I’m not frightened by his open-ended warning, just annoyed that it exists at all.”

  My hand falls to my side. “I’ll talk to my dad—”

  “No,” Connor forces the word.

  “My dad loves me,” I retort. “I can help.”

  “You’ll make it worse,” he says. “If you go to your father and tell him to stop threatening me, he’s going to think that I manipulated you to say it. Think about this, Lo. I could have brought you in this library, told you that I care so deeply for you, just so you can turn around and get him to do what I want. That’s not what this has been about today. Just forget it and let me handle it.”

  I blow out a strained breath, my last one. “Okay.” I’m basically throwing up my hands, but I know he’s right. I can’t do anything to help him fix this mess. “Is our friendship really worth it to you?” I ask. It seems like there’s not a lot of positives in it for him.

  He doesn’t even hesitate. “Yes.” He adds, “I’ve never met a problem that I can’t solve. Your worry is better placed on Lily.”

  I nod. He’s right about that too. “Can you promise me one thing?”

  “What?” he asks.

  “Next time, tell me if one of my jokes sucks ass.” I smile. “Like really blows.”

  His lips pull in another grin. “Always, darling.”

  { 43 }

  LILY CALLOWAY

  While Lo talks to Connor, I stay seated in the parlor, nodding every time my sisters start a new topic, but my mind has transported to bad places. I daydream about birthday sex that I won’t be having. I picture icing, body parts, hard things, and intense dry humping.

  Oh wait, dry humping is allowed. I perk up at the thought. I wonder if Lo will consider it.

  A baby cries, slicing through my trance. And guilt seeps into my veins like liquid ice. Becoming a mom hasn’t changed my personality or made me less compulsive. I still have a filthy mind. And now I despise these thoughts more.

  I’m sitting here, in the company of my sisters and their significant others, thinking about cock and cake frosting. To top it off, my baby is in sight. I’m about to stand when I notice my mom rocking Jane in her arms and shushing her. Moffy sits idly in his bouncer between Jonathan and my dad. He giggles as my father makes a goofy face at him.

  Jane is clearly the one wailing, and Rose is already on her feet, strutting across the parlor and through the archway before anyone says a word.

  I try to un-roast from my red flush of shame. It’s the worst shade.

  “You okay, Lily?” Ryke asks with a dark frown. Daisy has fallen asleep on his lap, which should make me happier, in a sense. That night in the teepee, she admitted to only sleeping a couple hours total. I’m staring at a good thing, my little sister getting some shuteye, but I’m feeling something different. “Lily?” Ryke asks again, his voice quiet.

  Poppy and Sam now focus on me too.

  I clear my throat. “Mmhmm.” I can’t even form actual words. I went from being handed business cards for nannies to being plagued with sexual thoughts. I should be concerned about Moffy. And I hate when sex overtakes that. It’s not right. It’s gross.

  Ryke presses a hand over Daisy’s ear, really gently so she doesn’t wake up or hear him speak. “Try again.”

  He’s very pushy. This is known. “Nannies aren’t bad, right?” I ask, the business cards between my fingers. “I mean, we all had them. And normal people have them too. For working moms and dads…”

  The heat of Ryke’s gaze shrinks me into the couch. I seek comfort in other places. Like Poppy.

  “We had a nanny once, when Maria was little,” Poppy says. “But you shouldn’t hire one just because you feel obligated to do it.” She tenderly collects the business cards out of my hand. “How about I hold onto these for you?”

  It’s like a bunch of bees just stung my esophagus, swelling it closed. I nod unsurely.

  Ryke sets the plate of half-eaten chocolate cake on the coffee table so it doesn’t fall off Daisy’s thigh. “Look, if you ever feel overwhelmed, you have Daisy and me. We’re always around.”

  Overwhelmed? Pressure compounds on my chest.
I’m not a selfish monster. I care about Moffy more than sex. I do. I do.

  “Lily,” Ryke says my name again, so forceful that Daisy’s eyes snap open in fright. “Fuck.”

  I’m scratching my arm, I realize. I retract my hand, jailing it between my knees. What is wrong with me? I watch Daisy sit up straighter on Ryke, her skin pale. She looks like she’s going to puke. The guilt creeps even further inside of me.

  I think I just inadvertently caused my sister a minor panic attack.

  Ryke adjusts her in his arms, concern washing over his features.

  “I’m okay,” she says in a deep inhale, able to breathe fully.

  Ryke hardly relaxes.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologize.

  Daisy shakes her head at me like no, don’t be. It’s my fault though. Everything. My sex addiction going public did this to her. The fear. The ridicule. I can’t ever forgive myself for that.

  Anxieties continue to pile on me. I need to shut my thoughts down, but my head is all messed up. I wish it would go back to normal. I peek over my shoulder, hoping Lo will appear. I can’t rely on him, no matter how much I want to.

  Poppy scoots on the couch and swings her arm around my shoulder. I feel so much worse. She should be comforting Daisy. Not me. But Poppy gives me a sisterly squeeze. “When I had Maria, I felt panicked a lot. Thinking I was doing something wrong. It’s normal.”

  My brain is not normal. If she could see inside of it, she’d realize how disgusting it is. I keep nodding and rubbing my eyes, trying to take the attention off me. I don’t want to admit the source of my anxiety: sex over a baby. But sitting here, agreeing with them that my panic is a normal motherly emotion makes me feel like a lying liar.

  “I just need some air,” I mumble and push off the couch. I pause and lock eyes with my little sister before I leave. “I’m really sorry…for everything.”

  “It’s not your fault,” she says softly, exhausted tears welling in her eyes. “I wish you would accept that. It’d make me feel better.”