Addicted After All

by Krista Ritchie

  “Come here,” Ryke breathes as he seizes her hand and tugs her to his chest. She hides her face in a hug, and he places a consoling hand on her head. “We’re not trying to beat you down, Dais. We’re just trying to make you understand.”

  “Okay,” she suddenly murmurs.

  Ryke and I exchange surprise. “Okay what?” I ask.

  She takes a single step back with a heavy exhale. “Okay, I’ll self-sabotage.” Her green eyes flit to ours. “If that’s what you both want…”

  “It is,” we say in unison.

  She twists the bottom of her white blouse, untucked from her green skirt. “So next week, I can—”

  “No, tonight,” Ryke almost growls out the word. He’s nervous about her winning before then. I am too, but he cares more deeply for Daisy. His concern is a higher wattage than mine.

  “Tonight?” she repeats, her mouth dropping. “Ryke, this is a charity event.”

  I cut in, “I’m going to write a check, so it’ll make up for whatever happens.” I know that’s not the right thing to say. Daisy looks petrified, her eyes widening at the thought of hurting people. She’s not going to, but in her mind, maybe that’s what she sees.

  Ryke cups her face, and she stares only at him. “Dais, we’re not asking you to humiliate yourself or anyone around you. Just throw out this fucking etiquette book your mother gave you, and do what you feel.”

  She blinks back tears. It’s hard to watch, but I can’t turn away either. “Maybe…next week,” she hesitates.

  “No.” Ryke pulls her into his body, with both hands on her cheeks. “Today, tomorrow—be wild, Calloway.”

  She inhales strongly. “What if that’s not who I am?”

  “Then be who you are, sweetheart,” Ryke says passionately. “But don’t change for them.”

  Daisy fingers his business suit, and I think she’s going to comment on it. Maybe that fight is a sore one because she doesn’t mention the change he’s made for the company. Though, she stands on the tips of her toes to kiss his shaven jaw. He tenses, and then she lands on her feet. “Don’t stop me,” she tells us, and she actually smiles, her eyes twinkling deviously.

  “I rarely do,” Ryke reminds her.

  She blows out a breath like she’s embracing something inside of her that she’s locked away these past months. And then she begins walking backwards towards the ballroom door. Her grin grows as she plants a playful gaze on Ryke.

  I have no idea what she’s about to do, to be honest. I just hope it’s enough to persuade the board that she’s too reckless to be a CEO. That she’s still young.

  She pushes through the doors, and we’re close behind. In the packed conference room, Daisy wags her brows at us, and then spins towards the groups of boisterous people, no one on stage right now.

  She does one cartwheel, and her skirt flies up to her waist. Revealing underwear that says…I roll my eyes. But the similar underwear reminds me of Lily.

  Beside the chocolate fountain, Lil holds a stick with a banana. A smile overtakes me. It’s an old trick of ours. Act like you’re contemplating dipping a piece of food into the fountain, when you’re just killing time.

  I peel my gaze off her and onto my brother. He’s trying to suppress a rare smile of his own, completely infatuated with Daisy. She’s on the fourth cartwheel and gathered more attention from people. When she does a handstand, people watch her. A few board members shake their head in disapproval.

  I LOVE RYKE MEADOWS is upside down.

  I catch a few people snapping photos with their camera phones. That was expected.

  “Your name is on her ass,” I state blankly.

  “I’m so fucking in love with her,” is all he says. And I believe every word.

  When she drops her feet, she takes a small bow, and a couple guys clap. Probably for showing her ass. I shoot them a look, but that doesn’t stop them from ogling Daisy. It irritates me, but that feeling vanishes the moment Daisy locks eyes with my brother.

  The moment she runs straight out of the ballroom with the biggest, brightest smile. She’s a ball of light that Ryke is going to catch up to. I can see it in his eyes.

  And he’s off behind her.

  I head to the window that overlooks the street, and I feel a presence slide next to me. Chocolate banana in hand, Lily presses her nose close to the glass. “What are we looking at?”

  “Your sister, my brother,” I tell her.

  I wait for them to exit onto the street. It’s something Daisy would do. And maybe three minutes pass before a platinum-blonde girl sprints out of the hotel and into the parking lot. She removes her shirt and her skirt as she races forward. We’re only on the third floor, so I make out her overpowering smile.

  It’s like watching someone break free.

  And my brother—he runs after her. I know everyone thinks he chased Daisy to stop her. They were nodding in approval about it as he left, but he’s not.

  As soon as he falls in line with Daisy, he runs by her side.

  “They’re going to last,” Lily says with a hopeful nod.

  Yeah. They just might. I tear my attention off the window and onto her. She’s pulled out her cell and concentrates on typing. “What’re you doing, Lil?”

  “Tweeting,” she says and then flashes me the screen: I’m Crazy for Raisy.

  I mock wince and shield my eyes. “Christ, Lil, you blinded me with Team Raisin.”

  “Raisy,” she corrects me with squinted eyes. She’s so fucking adorable.

  “Raisin.” I drop my hand and draw her body to mine. “It’s my favorite ship name. Let it be.”

  Her jaw unhinges. “Your favorite—” I cover her mouth.

  “Not my top favorite.” And my lips brush her ear. I can’t stop smiling. Not anymore. “My absolutely, without a doubt, favorite…” I pause with a breath. “…is ours.” Then I kiss her.

  I kiss her like I need her soul tangled with mine.

  She kisses back like it’s happened already for years.

  I almost forget about the last couple of steps I have to take with Hale Co. I almost forget about someday soon needing to beat my brother. But the unwritten future still lingers in the back of my mind.

  { 51 }

  LILY CALLOWAY

  “You did what?” Lo gapes at Connor, and my eyes threaten to pop out of my head.

  We’re surrounded by bottles of Ziff, stacked in pyramids on tables. September gusts of wind threaten to knock them over, but many Fizzle employees stand guard. A one-hundred-and-fifty-foot, terrifyingly tall cliff towers behind us: all gray rock and green foliage. Ryke stands at the base with Daisy and my dad before the media and public appear to kick-start the Ziff event.

  However, my attention remains strictly on Connor, who cradles Jane while she naps. It’s not his daughter that’s alarmed me either. It’s the words he just uttered.

  “Whaa…” I actually begin to say aloud.

  “I know,” Rose says, crossing her arms. “I already yelled at him for not bringing me along.” She purses her lips like that’s his greatest offense.

  No. That’s beside the point.

  “Next time, I’ll tag you in, darling.” Connor uses his free hand to comb Rose’s hair onto one shoulder, and then he kisses her bare neck lightly. It’s a regal, effortless kiss that has Rose almost flushing.

  “Good.” She raises her chin.

  My mouth is on the floor. Or rather, the earthy ground. Are Lo and I the sane, mature ones here? The world is really upside-down.

  “You’re both officially insane,” Lo beats me to that comment. “We agreed not to confront the teenagers or their parents.”

  Connor’s brows pinch in this conceited fashion. “By history alone, I’m the most qualified to reason with their parents.”

  “We should’ve talked about it,” Lo snaps. “This affects everyone, Connor.”

  Connor’s jaw muscles tic, a single sign of his true emotions. “No offense, but I didn’t feel the need to ask for your perm
ission or for Ryke’s when my wife and my daughter were shot with a water-gun on our front porch.”

  “Fruit punch, not water,” Rose corrects him. “And they owe me a new fucking dress.” I didn’t see it happen. Yesterday, Rose was alone with Jane, switching out the welcome mat to a fall-themed one. She had Jane in her arms when the teenagers sprayed her with fruit punch.

  I kinda wish I saw Connor’s reaction when he returned from work and learned about the ordeal. But maybe this was it. He was livid enough to storm over to the house and confront their parents.

  “I said a water-gun. I didn’t say that water was filled in it,” Connor retorts.

  Rose whips her head to him. “One detail, Richard. You were wrong about one small detail.”

  “If that were true, I’d agree with you,” he says smoothly, his lips beginning to rise. “But it’s not, Rose.” Normally I love a good flirt-fight, but the nerd stars need to cool it right now because we’re still partially in the dark about the teenagers and parents.

  Rose sighs heavily and glances at Jane in his arms. “I pray that your narcissism isn’t seeping into our daughter.”

  “Narcissism can’t seep. It’s not tangible, and who are you praying to, darling?”

  “Any god that will tell me why I procreated with you.”

  He grins fully, a blinding million-dollar one. “Because I love you just as you love me.”

  Rose presses her lips together, but she shifts closer to him. “That wasn’t meant for you to prove that you’re a god, Richard.”

  He laughs into a brighter smile and then he kisses her forehead.

  “Can we please get back to the real problem here?” Lo asks with a narrowed stare. “You talked to the Patricks, and you haven’t even said how it went.” All Connor mentioned was that he spoke to the Patricks that live three houses down from ours, and that was enough to put my mind in a tailspin.

  Connor seems casual and calm, but his smile has vanished from sight. “If I knew that I was trying to reason with a household full of morons, I would have dumbed down my opening speech.”

  It went badly then.

  Lo glares at the sky like why, God, why? Our son wiggles in a navy-blue sling across Lo’s chest, and he rocks him a little.

  I have to catch myself from staring too hard. Lo holding Moffy in the sling has topped the cuteness charts. Even Celebrity Crush featured photos of them calling Lo “one of the hottest celebrity dads.”

  It’s undeniable.

  “I don’t like paraphrasing, but the conversation was honestly too aggravating to repeat,” Connor says, adjusting his daughter as she wakes from her nap. Just before Jane lets out a boisterous wail, Rose digs into her black Chanel diaper bag and retrieves a soft stuffed lion. The moment Jane’s tiny arms cling to the animal, she quiets.

  I think we’re all glad Jane has grown attached to the toy.

  “The cliff notes version.” Lo waves Connor on.

  “They repeated the same phrase at least five times. It was a water-gun, not a real gun.” He pauses, and I can kinda tell that he’s struggling to remain composed. “Their argument was that all teenagers like to have fun, and I should remember being their age and doing the same exact things myself. As a result, I should let this pass.” Connor lets out a weak laugh, and he shakes his head. “But I was never a normal teenager. I didn’t do the same exact things, and a deep part of me believes I shouldn’t let it pass.”

  “But you’re going to?” Lo says like Connor needs to stick to the original “wait it out” plan. The uneasiness makes me queasy. I just don’t want this to escalate any further, but I also don’t want to cause a media uproar.

  “I’m not going to file a complaint,” Connor says. “If a tabloid hears the story, their headline will make me seem juvenile and obtuse, and it’ll help no one.”

  Lo nods a couple times, digesting this news. And then Sam and Poppy approach, the former dressed in khaki’s and a white-collared Fizzle shirt. They both have Ziff bottles in hand, and I notice their daughter staying back by the shady picnic tables with our mom.

  I spot cameramen and just regular people with crossbody purses and hats walking down the dirt path towards the roped off area. Food vendors are set up underneath white tents, and the sweet smell of kettle corn fills the breezy air.

  “You all ready?” Sam asks us. His gaze darts around our bodies, as though searching for—

  “Where are your drinks?” Poppy asks with a frown. She shields the sun with her hand. Apparently Maria snapped her sunglasses on the ride here; a sign, Rose said, of their daughter being a bigger terror than hers.

  “My hands are full,” Lo lies. But he demonstrates by wrapping his arms underneath the navy-blue sling. Moffy smacks his lips together and then gurgles a noise like ahh.

  My smile cannot be stopped.

  Connor adds, “Same.” He lifts Jane to illustrate his predicament. Her lips part in a half-sleep, cuddling with her stuffed lion and then tucking into her father’s chest for warmth and security.

  Rose scoffs. “You both are seriously using our children as scapegoats?”

  Lo flashes her a half-smile. “You’re only bitching because you wish you were holding Jane right now.”

  She crosses her arms but doesn’t deny it. Ziff tastes that gross. Last week, Ryke goaded me into trying a sip, and afterwards, I gargled mouthwash for a solid ten minutes to avoid gagging.

  It’s not to be sipped a second time. Nope.

  Sam collects two bottles from the pyramid, and my eyes pop out again.

  “We can’t break the pyramid formation!” I suddenly shout. I even wave my arms spastically. I heat all over in embarrassment.

  Sam doesn’t miss a beat. He shoves the bottle in my hand. “There are plenty more to rebuild the pyramid.”

  The silver label crinkles against the plastic as I clutch the bottle. The Blue Squall flavor is more like Blood Squall. Maybe if I try imagining myself as a vampire, I’ll have a more delightful experience.

  Sam lowers his voice. “You don’t have to drink much. You can even pretend to take sips. We just need pictures, and the public needs to see you too.”

  “Wow, Sammy,” Lo says, “you’re a modern day crook.” Lo touches his chest with a free hand. “I’m too honest to associate with people like you.”

  Connor arches a single brow, his grin growing. I’d stay to hear Sam’s reply, but I have a feeling he’ll stick with the eye roll.

  “I’m going to check on Daisy and Ryke.” I don’t think I said the words loudly enough, but I dart away regardless. I plan to carry the Ziff around and act like it’s delicious.

  I near the cliff where Ryke stands. He’s shirtless with low-slung gray shorts and a chalk bag around his waist. He also holds a brunette girl’s hand.

  My heart skips, and the sight takes me aback. I stop dead in my tracks.

  { 52 }

  LILY CALLOWAY

  I focus on the brunette girl.

  She rocks on the balls of her feet, restless while she faces the State Park Ranger and my dad.

  I blow out a breath.

  It’s just Daisy, I remind myself.

  It’s been years since her hair has been light brown, her natural color that matches mine, and so I’m still trying to grow used to it.

  The color suits her though. Maybe because she’s been smiling more often with the change, and while Ryke has stayed impartial about the whole hair-color process (to avoid influencing her decision) he let his thoughts slip to me yesterday.

  His exact wording: “I was afraid she’d look too much like you, but she doesn’t. I didn’t realize how fucking attracted to her I’d be.” Apparently Daisy met him at a quarry, took off her motorcycle helmet, and revealed the finished product. Then they had outdoor sex.

  The idea is better than reality. I know firsthand.

  As I near, I watch the State Park Ranger shake his head fiercely at Ryke, trying to push a harness and rope at him. Ryke raises his hands.

  I reach hearing
distance just as he says, “I’ve already signed a fucking waiver. If I die, it’s not the park’s responsibility.”

  “It’s windy and still dangerous. If you’re looking for a challenge, you can try for a second pitch. Not a lot of climbers do it on this rock face.”

  Ryke growls in frustration.

  My dad steps in between them. “If Ryke says it’s safe to climb, he should be able to climb. He understands the risk involved.”

  The Ranger asks, “Is he repelling down?”

  “Yes.” My father nods. “Two people are already at the top with gear for him.”

  The Ranger sighs, resigned from the fight. “Fine. I’ve said everything I can.” With this, he walks off, and my dad pats Ryke’s shoulder and mutters a good luck.

  I realize I’ve frozen halfway there, and I anxiously shift my weight from one foot to the other. No sex, I chant over and over as a familiar urge attempts to sweep me. The Ranger’s warnings seem logical. This is dangerous. It is windy. And what if he falls? Ryke said it himself.

  He’ll die.

  While Ryke whispers with Daisy, he turns his head and catches sight of me. His usually hard features soften a fraction. And I read his eyes well enough: I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me, please.

  Ryke never wants anyone to agonize over his wellbeing, but he’s so much a part of my life, of Lo’s, that if he disappears, it’ll be like severing a foot. Moving forward will be hard.

  “Hi, Lily,” my dad suddenly says next to me.

  I almost flinch by his presence, and I’m even more surprised when he chooses to stay put. “Do you…want to watch the climb with Mom?” I ask.

  He stuffs his hands in his pockets, dressed in an identical white-collared Fizzle shirt like Sam. “I’m good here.”

  I take a glance over my shoulder at Lo. With concerned wrinkles along his forehead, his eyes are trained solely on his older brother. Ryke kisses my little sister and then picks up his bottle of Ziff, about to chug it before he ascends.

  The chatter escalates from reporters and more people, drowning out the buzzing wind.