Thrive (26 page)

PART THREE

“Love is for souls, not bodies.”

 
–
Scarlet Witch,
Giant-Size
Avengers Vol 1 #4

{ 41 }

1 year : 06 months

February

LOREN HALE

Daisy bounces on the diving board with a devious
smile, staring right at my brother. He sits with me at a black iron patio table
with plates of burgers and fries.

“Just because she’s eighteen—” I can’t even get the words
out.

“I fucking know,” he says.

She does a cannonball close to the wall’s edge, splashing
our feet. My father’s indoor pool is decorated with yellow streamers to
celebrate her eighteenth birthday.

According to Lily, Daisy’s initial plans had been to tube
down the Delaware River, but it’s too cold for that, so my father offered his
estate instead. It took Rose seven days to convince their mom to let Daisy have
a small party with just family and close friends.

“I’m only looking out for her,” I say with edge. Daisy
doesn’t know my brother like
that.
She
can’t possibly see how many girls he screws. I don’t think “long-term
relationship” is even a word in his vocabulary.

He quickly changes the topic. “You never mentioned that Dad
has an indoor pool.” He dunks a fry in barbecue sauce. Ryke usually stays a
hundred feet away from this house at all times, hating our dad that much. Even
though Ryke is physically here, he won’t make eye contact with Jonathan Hale,
who stands by the bar with Greg Calloway.

“He also has a putting green outside, a home theatre, and a
spa.” I flash a half-smile.

My biting tone just rolls off his back by now. “Did you swim
here a lot?” he asks, prying. Like he wants to make up for lost time.

“When I was a little kid, Lily and I used to sneak down here
a bunch of nights,” I say, offering him something.

His hard features darken. “If you say
to have sex—
”

“We were like…seven.” I scowl. “It was innocent.” We’d dare
each other to jump in, all the lights off, the bottom black and murky in the
darkness. I’d always end up pushing her in, and she’d scream and try to kick
back to me. “One night we woke up the staff, and the butler ended up telling my
dad that we’d been swimming.”

“What’d he do?” Ryke asks, his elbows on the table, his
focus set on me. Whenever we talk about our dad, it’s always in context with
me.
His past with our father—it’s like
an abyss, a hazy picture that I can’t see. It’s still weird that he’s had
conversations with Jonathan Hale where I wasn’t there, talks as a young kid
that I know
nothing
about.

“After he found out?” I say. “He locked the pool.” I toss my
crumpled napkin on the table.

“He was worried about you drowning?”

“No,” I say sharply, irritation bearing down on me the
longer we discuss this shit. “He asked me if I wanted to swim competitively. I
told him
no.
So he told me that the
pool wasn’t a privilege that I’d earned yet.” Before my brother can say
anything, I ask, “Was he like that with you?”

“Kind of,” he says vaguely, staring off at the glass walls
that overlook a courtyard. Rain beats against the panes.

“How’s your mom?” I prod a bit further.

“I don’t know. Fine, I guess.” He hasn’t talked to her in
forever. Not since she leaked Lily’s sex addiction to the press.

“Wow, it’s nice talking to you, big
bro
. Let’s do this again sometime. I get so much out of it.”

He shoots me a look. Yeah, he’s been there for me many
times, more than I can describe. “I don’t talk to my mom, and I sure as fucking
hell don’t talk to my dad, so I don’t see what there is to say.”

“Did you ever like Dad?” I ask. “Like growing up?” That’s
what I want to know.

“Sure,” he says. “In the beginning.” He chugs his can of
Fizz and then nods to me. “Have you heard anything from Scott?”

I’ll take the deflection, only because I
do
have an opinion on this. “He texted
me twice, once to say:
I’m in Barbados,
bitch.
And then another time to send me an actual picture of himself
tanning on a damn yacht.” I blocked his number after that. Like I need to be
reminded that he’s profiting off of Connor and Rose’s sex tapes.

“Motherfucker,” Ryke mutters under his breath. “I hate that
Connor threw out the lawsuit. I tried talking to him about it, and he told
me
to fuck off.”

I actually laugh.

Ryke extends his arms. “Why is that funny?”

“Because Connor told me that you yelled at him like ‘a
Neanderthal trying to debate higher knowledge’—it was funny.”

“Hilarious,” Ryke says dryly. “You can’t honestly agree with
him.”

“No way,” I say. “I don’t care if he’s using the publicity
to grow his diamond company. Scott is sunbathing on a
yacht
and swimming in his pools of cash. That sick fuck deserves to
be in a prison.”

“Or at least bankrupt,” Ryke says with tense muscles.

Lily squeals, and we both turn our heads to the pool. She’s
on Daisy’s shoulders, trying to knock off Rose who sits on Connor’s, playing a
game of chicken.

“Get her bikini strap!” Daisy yells.

Lily tries the dirty move, unclipping Rose’s black bathing
suit top, but Rose swats her hand away.

“Cheating!” Rose accuses. “I win.”

Connor grins and speaks to her in French.

“Nooo way,” Daisy says with a laugh. “That is so legal.”

Lily is in a one-piece, so Rose can’t retaliate.

“Are we just going to leave Scott Van Wright to him?” Ryke
asks me.

“Isn’t that what you’ve always done?” I turn back to my brother.

He nods. “Yeah, I guess it is. We have to choose our
battles, don’t we?”

“Yeah.” And Connor wouldn’t want us stepping near that one.

{ 42 }

1 year : 06 months

February

LILY CALLOWAY

I heave my body out of the pool, water splashing
on the indoor stone floor. I carefully walk to the stack of white towels
without slipping, but five-year-old Maria darts out of nowhere, skirting
straight in front of me.

“No running!” Sam yells at his daughter. He sits on one of
the wicker sofas next to Poppy, her cheeks a little flushed from the mojitos
that the servers carry around. The raspberry mojitos were tempting, but I
passed on them, as did Lo and Ryke.

Maria tries to slow her stride, a piece of paper with crayon
drawings in her hand. She comes to a halt by Daisy, who’s on the pool ledge.

“Aw is this for me?” Daisy asks with a smile.

Maria nods and then whispers in her ear.

Thankfully I make it to the towels in one piece. No broken
bones. I wrap the soft cotton around my waist and near Lo and Ryke at their
iron table. They both look to me when I approach, their conversation ending.

Lo opens his arms, and I take a seat on his lap.

“Who won that game of chicken?” Ryke asks me.

I steal a fry from Lo’s plate. “Daisy and me, definitely.
Rose and Connor will say otherwise though.”

Daisy steps out of the pool with her card from Maria,
hearing me. “Yeah, there’s no rule against elbowing someone in the boob.” She
locks eyes with Ryke, reading his confusion. “Lily’s elbow. Rose’s boob.” She
wags her brows with a growing smile.

Ryke gives her a hard, unamused look—his normal, brooding
expression. “At least we all know which Calloway girls play dirty,” he says. I
easily read into the sexual innuendo.

“No dirtier than you,” Daisy says, passing us.

Ryke stiffens, realizing that conversation went south…closer
to his penis than he probably intended. Or maybe he
did
mean it. Ryke watches her open the glass sliding door.
 

I lean forward and whisper-hiss, “Are you staring at my
sister’s butt?”

“What?” He cringes at me like
I’m
the crazy one.

Daisy disappears inside.

Lo shakes his head at Ryke. “Just no.”

Ryke sighs heavily and rolls his eyes, visibly frustrated.

I clear my throat, realizing that this is the best time to
discuss a certain subject on my mind. “Speaking of dirty things,” I tell Ryke.
I straighten on Lo’s lap, folding my hands on the table. Seriousness intact.

Ryke’s brows rise. “Do I need to step out of the room?” He
looks between Lo and me.

“No, this is about
you
,”
I say.

Ryke looks to Lo. “What the fuck?”

Lo raises his hands. “I’m not involved in her suspicions.”

“They’re facts,” I say. I focus back on Ryke. “I’ve been
observing you…” That came out so wrong. “I mean, watching you.” Nope. Not
better. I redden while both guys now stare like I’ve sprouted wings.
Dear God, help me out a bit.
“You know
what I mean.”

“I fucking don’t,” Ryke says easily.

This is going badly. I take a sip from a Fizz Life can and
gag. Ew. That was flat. And not mine.

“Lily,” Ryke growls, impatient. He picks up his water.

“We need to talk,” I say, “about your sex addiction.”

He chokes on his drink, coughing hoarsely.

Lo and I pat his back at the same time. “It’s really, really
out of control,” I tell him.

And then Ryke wipes his mouth with his arm. “You can’t be
serious.”

“We just had to let go of Michelle. That’s the
third
store manager you’ve slept with.
And I
really
liked Michelle.” I
would’ve kept her around, but it complicates things. “And I completely
understand. You can’t control yourself, but if you wanted to get away with
hiding your addiction, you shouldn’t have slept with people we know. That’s sex
addiction 101.”

Ryke leans back in his chair. “That doesn’t make me a
fucking sex addict.”

“It’s okay,” I say. “I know it’s hard to admit, especially
since you’ve been with
so
many women.
But we’re here for you now. You can get this under control.” I put my hand on
his arm in comfort.

His lips part a little. I think he’s finally out of the
denial stage. And then he says, “I can’t tell if you’re being fucking serious.”
He looks to Lo. “Is she for real right now?”

That should’ve worked. I did all the serious things that
serious people do. The complacent face. The folded hands. The stiff spine.
Check, check, double check. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore,” I add.

“Lily…” Ryke’s eyes darken. “I’m not a fucking sex addict. I
know you wish I was, so I could join in your little sex addicts not-anonymous
club, but it’s not happening.”

I thought I’d crack him this time.

Damn.

I slouch again. Fuck sitting up straight. “Can you at least
admit that you screw more than the average male?” I ask. He always gets numbers
from waitresses when we eat lunch out, and I’ve seen him slip into so many
bathrooms with girls. He does one-night stands with zero shame. In and out.
Sex, sex, sex.

Wow.

That does sound like me. Except for the zero shame part.

“No,” Ryke snaps back and points to Lo. “Your boyfriend
fucks more than the average male and
way
more
than me. You two have sex once every night.”
Twice. Sometimes three or four times.

“He has an excuse,” I defend. “He’s dating a recovering sex
addict.”

Ryke laughs into a grin. “Don’t fool yourself,” he says kind
of meanly. His eyes flit over my shoulder to Lo. I can feel his smile as they
both gang up on me. “He wants it just as badly as you.”

I would have disagreed with him months ago, when Lo feared
pushing me over the edge with his own needs, but now Lo shows his arousal way
more. So it seems like the truth.

“So is Lo a sex addict?” Ryke asks me, his brows raised in
combat.

No. He’s not. They’re both just horny. “Fine,” I surrender,
“but can you not sleep with our next store manager? It’s hard trying to find
the right girl for the job.”

“Then hire a guy,” he says.

“We just went through this,” Lo says. He touches my head.
“Sex addict.” He motions to Ryke. “Not a sex addict.”

“How about this?” Ryke refutes. He waves to me. “In a
relationship.” His hands lie flat on his chest. “Single.”

“He has a point,” I mutter.

“No way,” Lo says. “We’re not hiring a guy because of him.”
He looks to Ryke. “Keep your dick in your pants or get a girlfriend, man.”

“Or…” I say, a light bulb blinking. “What kind of girl are
you
not
attracted to?” We can just
hire someone Ryke would never sleep with. Problem solved.

“I like all women,” he proclaims.

Problem not solved.

“That’s so something a sex addict would say,” I tell him.

He chucks a fry at my face.

I eat it. So there.

“I can tell you point-blank why I’m not a sex addict,” he
says, crossing his arms and rocking back on two legs of his chair. “When I
come, I don’t
have
to do it again.”

“The real issue,” Lo says, “is how you’ve actively slept
with Lily’s store managers.” Lo’s hands dive to my waist. I hold them there as
they slip by my thighs.

“It’s not like I was actively…” He trails off, his gaze
rising behind our chair.

We don’t have to turn our heads to find his distraction.
Daisy scrapes the chair back beside Lo, her plate full of raspberries and apple
slices. She senses the awkward tension almost immediately and hesitates to
touch her fruit. “Am…I not welcome?”

“No,” I say and then redden. “I mean,
yes
. It’s your birthday.”

Ryke runs his hand through his hair, looking rather
uncomfortable.

“You were saying?” Lo prods.

He meets Daisy’s eyes for two seconds, but I can’t read what
passes through them. “…I wasn’t actively seeking her out.”

Daisy crunches on an apple, not prying.

“So how’d it go?” Lo asks.

“How does anything like that fucking go?” Ryke says. “We
made eye contact. We talked for a couple minutes. Exchanged numbers and hooked
up. The fucking end.”

“Whoa, don’t get so hostile.”

Ryke takes a deep breath, glances at Daisy once or twice and
then shakes his head. “I didn’t realize that’s why you were firing the girls. I
wouldn’t have gone near them if I knew that was the case.”

“Who’d you sleep with?” Daisy asks like it’s everyday
conversation.

“Their store manager.” He doesn’t even lie?

Lo and I glance between them. What kind of relationship do
they even have?

“Bad call,” she says.

“No fucking kidding.”

And then a shadow casts over the whole table. I look up and
there’s my mother. My veins ice over, realizing that we have not talked. In so
long. Still, she barely gives me the time of day. Her attention remains fixed
to my little sister.

“There’s too much sugar in that, Daisy. I thought we agreed to
just eat the vegetables.”

“I didn’t think—”

“It’s fine. I’ll get you a new plate.” Our mom collects the
dish right in front of Daisy’s face and marches inside.

Daisy looks ill. She sets her half-bitten apple slice on the
table, silence weighing down on us all. I don’t know what to say. Our mom has
no self-awareness. If she did, she’d realize how much she suffocates Daisy…and
how much she ignores me.

But then again, maybe she does realize it. And she just
doesn’t care.

I want to give her the benefit of the doubt though. She
hasn’t cast me out of the family. She’s just…dealing. In a very passive
aggressive way.

Daisy breaks the silence. “She’s right. My agent said I need
to lose ten pounds.”

“You’re already too skinny,” Ryke tells her, his features
downcast like the storm outside.

“In your eyes, maybe,” she says softly. “To the people that
matter, I’m fat.”

“Do I not fucking matter?” he asks, hurt passing through his
voice.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Lay off her,” Lo interjects, glaring at his brother in
warning. “It’s her birthday.”

“I’m not trying to lay
into
her,” he retorts. “You do realize that she’s moving into
my
apartment complex when she graduates in May?” Oh yeah. Ryke
proposed the idea since Daisy doesn’t want to go to college, and our mom has
been scheming to extend Daisy’s stay at her house for an extra two or three
years. Which means more plate grabbing and general hovering.

Lo, surprisingly, has trusted Ryke with this idea, but it
comes with some suspicions. How much of what Ryke is doing because he cares for
Daisy as a friend? And how much of it is because he wants to have sex with her
now that she’s legal?

I want to think better of Ryke, but his track record with
women points big neon arrows to the latter.

“So?” Lo says. “Does that mean you can be a dick to her?”

“I’m a dick to everyone,” Ryke states, extending his arms
again.

“Loren!” Jonathan Hale’s rough voice echoes against the
glass ceiling and walls. One hand in his charcoal slacks, the other clutching a
crystal goblet of scotch, filled to the brim. “Come here, son.” He practically
chugs three-fourths of his drink, standing tensely next to a hanging fern and
pool bar.

“Don’t,” Ryke says under his breath to Lo.

Jonathan’s eyes pulse with something familiar, something
inhuman and soulless, like he’s ready to slaughter any man in his wake, like
he’s ready to verbally tear through his son. My heart sputters in panic.

“It’s fine.” He picks me up off his lap and stands with me
at the same time, the chair scraping back. Then he forces me in the seat and
gives me one deadly look that says:
Don’t
follow me.

“Lo—” I start.

“It’s probably just Halway Comics,” he cuts me off. “I
haven’t talked to him about my company in a while. I’ll be right back.”

This seems so much larger than that.