Thrive (17 page)

{ 24 }

0 years : 07 months

March

LOREN HALE

I pull my pants up and watch Lily tuck a pillow
underneath her chin. Her eyes follow my movements as much as mine follow hers.
I’m not sure if it’s fear or love that keeps our gazes matched. Maybe a mixture
of both.

I tug at a tangled throw blanket on the bed, about to fold
it, and a comic book suddenly tumbles to the floor. When I bend to pick it up,
Lily springs off the mattress and snatches the comic first. My black
button-down hangs on her body like a dress, stopping mid-thigh, but her breasts
are exposed when she shifts certain ways.

My eyes flash from her nipple to her hands, shielding the
comic behind her back.

“That’s my comic.” I don’t ask.

Her red face answers my question before her words do. “Do
you remember that time we had sex and it was so good that I didn’t ask for
anymore?”

“You mean five minutes ago?”

She nods. “Yeah, well, um…turns out we may have been doing
it
on
one of your comics.
Whichjustmakesitmoreawesome!” She slurs the last part together, and I have to
piece it apart slowly.

“Which one?” I can already feel my glare. I try, pretty
poorly, to suppress it.

She lets out a puff of breath, like she’s thinking hard.
“You know, I’m not sure.”

“It’s behind your back,” I deadpan.

“Oh…right.” Lily steps forward and offers the comic to me.
Before I even read the title, I notice the large creases and wrinkled pages. We
really did fuck on it.
Jesus.

And then I skim the title:
Uncanny X-Men.
The latest edition. The one I haven’t read yet.
Irritation flares for a second, but it’s gone before I can even bottle it.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, her eyes big and round. “I’ll buy
you a new one.”

The smallest slights usually grate on me enough to open a
bottle of Macallan. Not today. “It’s fine, Lil. It’s just a comic book.” I can
always buy another.

The surprise in her face almost makes me smile.

I step forward to wrap her in my arms, but our bedroom door
opens abruptly, no knock, no warning. I expect Ryke to come barging in. For our
secret to catch up to us.

But it’s so much fucking worse.

Scott Van Wright stands in the doorway, chest pumping with
livid intensity. He clutches a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag. I try not
to concentrate on it.

“Get the fuck out of our room,” I sneer, my veins turning to
liquid fire. I block Lily’s body from view. I’m used to our siblings invading
our privacy, but not this guy. That’s something that I will never be okay with.

Instead of leaving, he shuts the door closed with a loud
thunk.
“We need to talk.” No humor in
his voice. He pulls his cell out of his pocket, and his dirty blond eyebrows
rise like
you know what I’m talking
about.

Oh yeah.

My lips curve in a bitter smile. “Sure. Talk all you want.
I’ll listen.” I mockingly wave him on. Lily plops down on the edge of the bed,
a pillow pressed to her lap.

“You deleted
all
of
my contacts.”

“Did I?” I feign confusion. “I don’t remember picking up
your phone.” I scratch my head. “But now that I think about it…I may have
touched it once. With gloves. I was scared of catching whatever disease you
have that turns you into such a fucking prick.”

“
Loren
, I had
contacts stored from executives that I
can’t
get back without making a billion phone calls of numbers that I now
don’t have. You see the problem here?”

“Yep,” I say. “Sounds like a real fucking problem. Sucks for
you, man.” I shrug.

“I’m
not
acting,”
Scott snarls. “There aren’t cameras rigged in here. This is serious.”

I glare. “As serious as you approaching my girlfriend every
goddamn
day and calling her a slut?” I
take a step towards him. “You’ve been making our lives miserable for the past
three months. And you just walk around here—
smiling
.”
Another step closer. “You think I’m the weakest person in the house, so you’ve
been going after me and Lily. But get this straight, Scott. I’m the
last
person you wanted to fuck over. You
try to pull my arms like I’m a fucking marionette, and I’ll yank yours out of
the socket.”

His nose flares.

And before he has a chance to say a word, I ask, “So how’s
texting going for you? Has it
sucked?
”
I reprogrammed his auto-correct. Every time he types in
yes,
it reformats to say
cocksucker.
No
is now
blow me.
And the phrase,
I’m on my way
is retranslated to
I want to smell your asshole.
It’s as
unpoetic as I could get. And I fucked with probably fifty common phrases and
words.

His skin reddens the longer he fumes. “The cat shit was you
too?” The litter box was in the laundry room. Decided to give him a surprise in
his expensive loafers.

“That was Sadie,” I say. “Congratulations, you’re the first
guy she’s ever hated.” I clap, watching his face morph into pure rage.
Good.
He looks how I’ve felt.

He closes the gap between us quickly, and I drop my hands.

I threaten, “You make our lives hell; I make yours hell.
That’s how this works, Scott. You leave me alone, we have no problems. Your
choice.”

Scott tries to break me by simply staring into my goddamn
eyes. That’s not going to work. I’ve stared down Jonathan Hale many times
before—Scott is sweet in comparison.

“Did you come here to cry?” I ask him. I could have easily
accepted my father’s help and fucked over his life, emptied his bank account,
totaled his car. What I did was small but still significant—or else he wouldn’t
be so upset.

“Fine,” he finally says. His eyes flicker to Lily, but I
sidestep so he can’t see her. “I’ll play nice from now on.” He slips his cell
in his pocket and then he shoves the bagged bottle in my chest. “Cheers.”

He backs up, waiting for me to unwrap the paper bag.

I don’t have to. I’ve opened enough Maker’s Mark to
recognize the red waxy seal on the neck. He handed me bourbon whiskey.

He wants me to drink and break my sobriety. It’s not going
to—

Lily darts beside me with a high-pitched scream, steals the
bottle out of my hands and chucks it at Scott. The bottle, still in the bag,
makes a loud impact on the wall beside his head. He jumps back in surprise, the
glass shattering and whiskey dripping down the wallpaper.

I’m so stunned that I can hardly move. Did Lily just…
yeah, she did.

“Don’t you dare
give
him alcohol like it’s nothing,” Lily says.

Scott grinds his teeth and flashes a pained smile, his lips
twitching. Then he slams the door on his way out.

It takes me a moment to speak. “Lily Calloway,” I say,
shocked beyond belief. I turn my head towards her. “Did you just defend
me
by throwing perfectly good booze at
a douchebag’s head?”

“Yes,” she says with a nod and then tilts her chin up for further
effect.

I touch my heart. “I’d propose to you, but I already did
that.”

She smiles but tries to stay serious, pressing her lips
tightly together. “He can’t screw with your addiction.”

“He’s not.” I draw her to my body.

Lily shakes her head, more worked up than me. “He’s like
Draco Malfoy,” she says, resting her hands on my arms. “Slimy and evil and a
complete narcissistic buffoon.”

“Plus he has blond hair,” I add.

She catches the humor in my eyes. “It’s not funny. The whole
thing is so
not
funny.”

“Lil…” I cup her cheeks between my hands. “
No one
is going to mess with us or make
our lives harder just for shits and giggles. Okay?”

After a short moment, she nods in agreement.

My hands fall to her ass that peeks out of the button-down,
but she walks out of my grasp. I watch her bend down to the wet paper bag.
“I’ll clean this up,” she says. “You shouldn’t touch the alcohol since you’re
taking Antabuse.”

I grimace, but she can’t see my expression, her back turned
to me. I haven’t exactly told her that I stopped taking the meds. After the
premiere of
Princesses of Philly
,
everything got crazy. Superheroes & Scones has been packed, more and more
manuscripts are sent to my office, Rose bugs
me
to bug
Lily
about the
wedding, and then Scott—I started running on empty.

The last thing I wanted to do was take Antabuse,
accidentally eat something cooked with alcohol and puke. I don’t have the
energy to check the ingredients of all the restaurant dishes. So yeah, I
flushed the pills that physically make me ill if I relapse.

At the time, it felt like I unstrapped a fifty-pound weight
from my ankles. Now I’m just terrified to see the disappointment in Lily’s face
if she finds out—or worse, she’ll blame herself. Like it was her fault for not
motivating me more or not realizing it sooner.

I’ll tell her.

Not today.

Maybe when the reality show ends, when everything slows down
and I can stomach the thought of popping those pills. I’ll come clean, then.

I pass her a waste basket. “Be careful,” I warn.

She pinches the ends of the paper bag like a dirty diaper,
the glass shattered inside, and dumps it into the trash.

“This stuff with Scott stays between us,” I remind Lily.
“The moment Rose knows that he’s fucking with us, she’ll want to end the show.”
Connor will probably convince her otherwise though. Rose’s fashion line has
seen a major boost in sales since
Princesses
of Philly
aired. But we don’t want to be the ones who ruin her success or
cause her trouble.

“I know,” Lily says, standing up next to me. “We can’t tell
anyone.”

{ 25 }

0 years : 07 months

March

LOREN HALE

I wake up at 5 a.m. with a massive headache and
nonstop, rambling thoughts. I sit on the edge of my bed, careful not to disturb
Lily who lies on her stomach while she sleeps, arms outstretched to embrace her
pillow.

I pull the blankets up to her shoulders, and she lets out a
quiet sigh, her eyes still closed. I wish I could fall back to sleep next to
her, but I can’t turn off my brain this morning.

I leave the room, gently shutting the door behind me.
Shower. Coffee. Office. It’s like I’m a full-fledged adult. Most days, I feel
like I’m still pretending.

When I aim my sights on the bathroom door, Connor suddenly
steps out of his room and into the narrow hallway.

I freeze in place, scanning his navy blue, cotton pants,
shirtless with abs that make mine look like child’s play. He’s going to take a
shower in the communal bathroom. And I’ve been more or less avoiding him since
the premiere, when he confessed to not loving Rose.

“Morning, beautiful,” he banters like nothing has changed
between us. He saunters to the bathroom and holds open the door for me. “After
you.”

Screw the shower.

I walk to the stairs with flexed arms and rigid shoulders.

“Lo,” he calls out, sounding conflicted.

I stop on the first step and look back. He stands in the
bathroom door, but he offers not a single extra word for me, not
I’m sorry
or
you were right
or
I do love
her.

I shake my head at him and then descend the staircase. Only
after I enter the kitchen and start the coffee pot do I finally hear the pipes
groan through the walls, the shower starting.

“What are you doing up?”

I jump at Rose’s cold voice, the blue coffee mug almost
tumbling out of my hands. I take a deep breath. “Jesus Christ, don’t sneak up
on me like that,” I whisper, leaning my back against the counters.

“Please, if I announced my entrance in the room, you’d call
me the Queen Bitch. If anything, I’m doing you a favor. You need new material.”
She retrieves a red mug out of the cabinet beside my head, already showered and
wearing a black dress with a gold necklace.

“Great,” I say, too early to have a verbal battle with her.

She waits impatiently for the coffee to brew, her
high-heeled foot tapping the floorboards. “He’s not perfect, you know,” she
says.

My jaw hurts from clenching, I realize. Now I really want
this stupid machine to hurry up. “You don’t say,” I mutter, both our gazes
glued to the coffee that drips too slowly.

“Connor feels horribly,” she adds.

My stomach tightens. “Wow, Connor Cobalt can feel?” I quip.
“I thought his insides were all IP addresses and router cables.” I cringe; the
insult stings me worse than I thought it would.

For some reason, Rose doesn’t feed into my dry sarcasm
today. “You’re his best friend,” she emphasizes, now staring at me while I
avoid her piercing eyes.

“I thought his best friend is his therapist.”

“He was,” Rose says, “before he met you. And what Connor
sees in you, I have
no
idea. Hanging
out with you for more than five minutes is like lying on a bed of nails.”

“Likewise,” I tell her. I finally rotate, actually seeing
the way her face has softened, not as severe, defensive or on guard. She’s
trying
to be real with me. “Did Connor
ask you to come patch things up for him? He got you to do his dirty work?”

She glares. “I’m not Connor’s bitch,” she snaps. “I do what
I want to do. You want to know the truth? He told me to stay out of his
relationship with you because he’s afraid I’ll do more harm than good. He’s so
scared to lose you, and you can’t see it because Connor won’t let you.”

I process everything she says. “Why is that?”

“He enjoys acting like he’s invincible. It’s infuriating,
but we all have our faults, even him.”

I put him on a pedestal above everyone, above my own
brother. I thought there was
no fucking
way
Connor Cobalt would hurt me. He was designed to be there for all of us. He made
me feel worthy of love even if he never truly loved me.

“Our whole friendship feels like a lie,” I tell her.

“It’s not,” she says. “I’ve known him since I was fourteen,
Loren. I’ve seen his superficial friendships and the ones he creates to further
himself in life. You’re
not
one of
those. He’s more himself with you than he usually is. You have to believe
that.”

“Why are you sticking up for him?” I ask. “He doesn’t even
love you, Rose.” This time, I think she’ll have a different reaction to the
words, no longer drunk off champagne.

But her expression remains exactly the same. “He’s
incredibly intelligent,” she says, “but that comes with a few quirks. This is
one of those that I’m okay with. I don’t need him to love me because it’s not
as though he’ll ever love another woman. Not if he doesn’t believe in it.”

My headache pounds. “Sometimes I’m glad I’m not as smart as
you two.” I open a nearby drawer and pull out a bottle of Advil and swallow a
couple pills without water. They lodge in my throat before sliding down.

“Loren,” she says, her voice still icy, “just give me a sign
that you understand
anything
I’m
saying.” She really wants me to make up with Connor. This is coming from a girl
who dislikes me the most out of everyone in our group of six.

Everything Rose said makes more and more sense to me. Connor
won’t apologize or say he’s wrong, not if he believes he’s right. But the fact
that I frazzled him in some way—that means he cares about something other than
just himself.

It has to mean that our friendship is real.

I give her a weak thumbs-up, practically sideways, like a
half-assed affirmative answer.

“Always juvenile.” She gives me a look like
I’ll take it
and approaches the
quarter-filled coffee pot, too impatient to wait any longer.

I set my mug on the counter and open the pantry door.

Footsteps sound on the floorboards. “Rose, have you…” Connor
trails off only when he sees me. I don’t pay him that much attention. He
swallows and then regains his focus. “…my passport, have you seen it? I thought
I left it in our drawer.”

“I organized it with our itinerary.”

I grab a bag of bagels and set them on the island. Connor’s
eyes flicker to me again, tension mounting in the air. He’s already dressed in
a white button-down and black slacks.

I put a bagel in my mouth, take out an extra, and twirl the
bag closed.

Connor speaks to Rose in French, and she snaps back in the
same language.

I’m too used to the French to be bothered by it. I just fill
my coffee and slip the extra bagel in the toaster.

Then Connor says, “Lo…”

I don’t spin around as I head to the living room. I just
point to the toaster. “I’m not going to butter it for you.” I take a bite of my
bagel and only glance back once. Yeah, I made the guy breakfast, a small,
small
sign of peace between us.

I watch as his lips pull into one of those genuine
smiles—one that holds no trace of arrogance.

I add, “It doesn’t mean that I’m not still mad at you.” I
won’t let him off the hook that easily, but I doubt this fight will last much
longer.

“I prefer my friends angry,” Connor says. “It makes me look
better.”

“Too soon,” I tell him, eating my bagel and walking back to
the living room.

I can practically feel his grin widen behind me. And it
takes me a minute to realize that I’m smiling too.