Connor stays quiet, unreadable, which makes this so much worse for her.
When I finish, I stand to scrutinize Connor’s reaction. But it gives me nothing, so I have to ask, “How do you feel now, Cobalt?”
“Disturbed,” Connor says calmly. “A little worried too. I didn’t think it’d be that easy to stumble onto our porn.” He looks to Daisy, his brows now furrowing. “What site were you on?”
“I fucking hate you,” I deadpan. “Seriously.” I wanted that satisfying moment where we arrive on an even playing field. She saw him naked. He saw this. But Connor refuses to give us that triumph. We’re left with this fucking awkwardness, no matter what.
Connor pulls out his cellphone like he’s going to make a note of the site.
“I can’t remember, Lily suggested it,” she mumbles.
I freeze with Connor. Lily shouldn’t be watching porn, and if she is…well that would be considered a relapse in the sex addiction recovery handbook.
Daisy’s eyes widen like what did I say?
“Is she watching porn again?” Connor asks.
“No. She just recommended the site when I asked. No need to go postal, guys. You know she hates when everyone overreacts. Last month, you…” She points at me accusingly, defending her sister. “…barged into her bathroom just because she was taking a little longer. Do you know how embarrassing that is?”
Yeah, I know, I was there. Her face turned into a giant fucking tomato and she screamed at me. But I’d rather embarrass her ten times over than have the alternative happen—relapse or worse…suicide. It’d kill my brother. It’d kill all of us. And I’ve seen her at her worst, when she was in a bathroom out of her fucking mind, and I often wonder what would have happened if I didn’t barge in.
None of us will take that chance.
Connor lets out a sigh. “I’ll text her later. You.” He looks at me. “Return to our room. I don’t want Lo finding out about your quasi-relationship like this. You.” He turns to Daisy. “Don’t let Ryke come on your face again.” Fucking A.
“Fuck off, Cobalt.” I push him out the door, aggressively, wanting so bad to remove that fucking smile on the edge of his lips. I settle with closing the door on his face. When I spin around, Daisy stands to her feet.
“Has this happened to you before?” she asks, her eyes rising to mine. My cum on a girl’s face. No. Never. And I never even thought about it until now.
I’m so fucking sorry, Dais. I know she didn’t like it. I know it’s not something that should have happened tonight.
“You’re the fucking first,” I tell her.
“Me too,” she says, trying hard not to smile. Now that Connor is gone, there’s a lightness in her eyes, a laughter that bubbles up and tears away the tension from the situation. I walk over and cup the back of her head, my fingers running through her hair. She lets out a breath. She likes this.
“I’m sorry, Calloway.”
“I like you on me.”
I give her a look. “Not like that.”
“Not like that, but…it was an experience.” She grins.
Connor may not believe we’re in a real relationship, but I’m glad we’re starting out like this, to relish in all these little fucking moments before we get to the one she’s waiting for—the one I crave. But despite what anyone says, this fucking works for us right now.
< 35 >
DAISY CALLOWAY
I exit the motel shower, basking in the warm water before we start camping-camping. With real tents and campfires and everything that makes my heart flutter in excitement. As I pull on a shirt that says this ain’t paris, I glance up once and meet the television. My smile fades, and my whole body goes rigid.
Sara Hale is on the screen.
Ryke’s mom.
A news segment shows clips of the 60 Minutes interview that aired last night. Ryke’s mom faces a reporter, her golden-brown hair straightened. I strain my ears to pick up her words. “What I did was not a malicious attack on the Calloway family.”
“But you sold the information about Lily Calloway’s sex addiction to magazines, did you not?”
“Yes, but I wasn’t trying to hurt that girl. I was just tired of hiding the truth. You have to understand that I spent years protecting Jonathan Hale’s infidelity. The only way to expose him was to put Jonathan under a spotlight. I only saw one way to achieve that, and I apologize for whatever emotional hurt I caused Lily. But she was linked to Loren, his son. She was tangled in a very complicated family dispute.”
“You sound as though she was cannon fodder.”
“Again, I apologize if it seems that way.” Sara pauses and stares at her hands with solemnity, but she has a hardness behind her eyes, a toughness that combats the softness. “As a mother, I was torn daily. I had to hide my real son, and I was forced to act like Loren was my child. I just wanted to be free of Jonathan, and I wanted my son to be free too.”
“But were you really forced?” the reporter asks. “You signed the divorce agreement. You knew what you were complying to.”
“At the time, I was a single mother, young and confused. I was scared, and I did what I thought was best for my son.”
“Ryke.”
“Yes, Ryke.”
Someone shifts in the open doorway that connects the adjoining motel rooms. I look over.
Ryke. His eyes are dark and set on the screen like he’s been watching for a little bit. His hair is wet from taking a shower in the other bathroom. After Connor’s warning last night, he went back to their bedroom. And I didn’t even make him check the locks before he left. I’m trying my best to overcome that fear.
It must be almost time to hit the road again, and I’m sure he came to fetch me, but his gaze stays on the television screen.
Sara straightens up in her chair. “I realize now that I only hurt him through the divorce agreement.”
Ryke runs a hand through his wet hair and walks further into the room, his eyes falling to the ground as he searches the floor for the remote.
“Don’t you want to listen to what she has to say?” I ask him, packing my comb in my duffel.
“It’s a fucking media ploy to make herself look better.”
“How can you be so sure?” I ask.
Ryke turns to face me. I’m not scared of him at all, and I don’t think he wants me to be. But his eyes flash hot, with anger so deep-seated that it’s hard to look at. “She sounds like she rehearsed her answers. She doesn’t fucking talk that formal.”
I frown. “Really? My mom sounds like that.”
“Mine doesn’t. She’s emotional. If she was real, she’d be crying or yelling. She wouldn’t hold back and be stone-faced.” He gestures to the television. “The only time I’ve seen her like that is when she’s trying to impress her wealthy fucking friends.”
This is the most he’s ever talked about his mom with me. I watch as he searches for the remote, but it’s with less diligence, his gaze faraway as his thoughts spin.
“Do you miss her?” I ask him.
He finds one of my shirts on the ground and tosses it to me. “Sometimes, but it doesn’t fucking matter, Dais.”
I stuff the shirt in my duffel pocket. “But she’s your mom…” I can’t imagine never talking to mine again. Even if there are times I’d like to run away from her, running away forever sounds painful.
He shakes his head. “I can’t live in your fucking optimistic world where everyone is kind and holy. I’ve seen too many bad people to believe there’s that many good.”
“She can change though—” I start, wanting something better for him. I wish I could take his problems and uncomplicate them, even if I can’t. It hurts to feel like I have no control over it.
“Change what, Daisy?” He shrugs. “She already ruined Lily’s life,” he states matter-of-factly, but his eyes are dark. “She ruined your life and Rose’s. And she broke my fucking heart. It’s fucking over.”
I swallow hard, a lump in my throat. “She didn’t r
uin my life,” I say softly.
Ryke glares. “Don’t even fucking start.” Because he’s seen me scream at night, he’s watched me turn into a scared, frightened girl. And the catalyst for everything was Sara Hale.
“I wouldn’t be upset if you tried to have a relationship with her,” I add. “I just need you to know that.”
He surrenders his search for the remote and walks forward, his hands brushing my cheeks. “Thank you,” he says with a short nod. “But it won’t change anything.”
I nod back, not sure what else to say. My throat closes.
Off my silence, his features darken, his brows furrowing. “I just can’t forgive her,” he tells me. “For some fucking reason, it feels more like a weakness than a strength to open my arms to her.”
“Even if you miss her?”
He nods. “Yeah. Even if I miss her. So that’s where I’m at.” He kisses my head. “Don’t worry too much about my family problems, Dais. It’s my shit. I really don’t want you in the middle of it.”
I look up at him. “I’m glad that you want to talk to me though.”
He gives me a confused look. “Why wouldn’t I want to?”
My age.
The pieces must click because he says, “We wouldn’t be together right now if I thought you were too immature to talk to about this stuff.”
My lips begin to rise, but a reporter at a news desk cuts into our conversation, “Sara Hale has no evidence that either Ryke Meadows or Loren Hale was sexually or physically assaulted by their father. Although, she did say it’s possible both happened to Loren during his residence at his father’s home in Philadelphia. You can learn more about this ongoing case on our website…”
Ryke is on the hunt for the remote again, and before the reporter gives any contact info he finally finds it and shuts the television off.
I don’t ask what he knows about the whole ordeal. I can tell that he’s through talking about it. I was lucky enough to get what I did out of him today.
< 36 >
RYKE MEADOWS
We’ve made some progress towards California. Not much. But we’re getting there.
Before the sun fell, we arrived at the heart of the Smoky Mountains. Like I said, we’re still fucking far away. But the point of this trip isn’t to speed to California. It’s for my brother to relax, breathe, and try to find some inner-fucking-peace.
I could use some of that too.
Connor spins on his expensive loafers that sink into the muddy dirt. This image is so priceless: Connor Cobalt in a fucking suit standing in the middle of the woods and looking—probably for the first time in his life—like he doesn’t belong.
If he was trying to schmooze an advertising exec and planned a wilderness retreat, he’d put on a fake fucking smile and dress down to fit in. But there isn’t any reward in pitching a tent for him right now. He just has to do it because we’re friends and we told him so.
“You okay there, Cobalt?” I ask.
He shoots me the middle finger. I see the annoyance flicker in his eyes. It’s easier to catch his emotions the more you know him.
Lo smiles. “Hey, look at that. Connor has adopted Ryke’s native language.”
“Why aren’t we staying in a hotel again?” Connor asks me. “Not that I don’t love to see how you like to live, Ryke, but some of us prefer a bed to the ground.”
“It’s called camping,” I retort.
Connor gives me a look. “I’d forgotten the definition of camping. Now that you reminded me, the whole world is clear.” His real irritation, however, comes from his phone. He raises it at the sky, trying to achieve cell signal. He’s already worried about Rose, and now that he’s losing communication with her, he’s becoming a bigger asshole.
Good thing I can handle most personalities, even Connor Cobalt’s conceited one.
“For someone so fucking smart, you sure as hell love to act stupid around me.”
“Like Lo said,” Connor says, half-distracted as he presses buttons on his cell, “I’m trying to tap into your way of living.” He just called me dumb. He lets out a frustrated sigh and pockets his phone. “So far it sucks.” And he hightails it back to the car to help Daisy unload the supplies.
Lo kicks some rocks and twigs away from the place where we’re setting the tents, clearing anything sharp that’ll dig into our backs. He does so with a distant gaze, lost inside his head.
“Hey.” I come up beside him. “You want to go to a fucking hotel too?”
He glances at the thick woods that surround us and gestures towards the pines. “Don’t act like you didn’t see an RV past those trees.” He points at the tall ones that seclude us from the other campsites.
It’s a national park. There are other campers. I can’t change that. But at least we have some privacy. I recognize his fears though. This trip is supposed to be paparazzi free. For us to live off the grid and be absent of the media.
That’s what I promised him.
If some road-tripping family recognizes us, snaps some pictures and posts them to the web, we’re fucked. But this is the best I can do.
“They’re not going to find us here, Lo.”
His eyes darken, not completely trusting me. I don’t know if he ever will. “In rehab they had a five-star gourmet chef on call. Your pseudo-rehab isn’t really living up to my expectations.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t hire a fucking butler or maid, and I forgot to pack those scented toilettes you use to wipe your ass,” I snap. He’s not a rich snob that he makes himself out to be. He just likes to poke people until he sees a reaction. “If you want to go to rehab in New York, I’m not fucking stopping you, Lo. I’m just giving you another option.” I outstretch my arms. “Open air. Freedom from the media. A normal fucking life for a month. Something that the rehab center isn’t going to provide you with.” At least not when everyone there will know he’s Loren Hale. Another celebrity checking themselves into the center.
Like clockwork.
I wait for his response, and Connor returns, watching my brother as well, seeing what his decision will be. I can support either choice, but I want to be available if he goes to rehab. I can’t be on the road with shitty cell reception while he’s back in New York.
So if he chooses rehab, this trip to California is over. For Daisy, for me. I’d pick my brother in this instance. I have to.
After a long moment of silence, Lo looks at me. “Hotdogs and hamburgers tonight?”
My limbs loosen in relief. “Yeah,” I say with a nod. “You okay with that?”
“As long as Connor doesn’t cook them. He doesn’t understand that medium-rare means red and bloody.”
“No, I understand the meaning of medium-rare,” Connor counters. “I just also understand the meaning of Escherichia coli.”
“Why the fuck can’t you just say E. coli?” I ask.
“Because abbreviations are lazy and I’m clearly not.”
I shouldn’t have asked.
Daisy tries to carry a stack of fold-out chairs in her arms all at once. I take a step forward to go help her, but Lo puts his hand on my chest. “I’ve got this.” He pats my shoulder with force, silently warning me, and then sprints to catch Daisy before she falls.
She laughs while he takes two chairs off her pile.
“You’re glaring,” Connor tells me.
“Fuck off.” Though I do try to lessen the agitation that tenses my jaw.
“Maybe try acting like you don’t want to murder your brother for stepping in your way.”
“It’s hard,” I say truthfully. I scratch my neck. “What would you do if you were me?” Maybe it’s masochistic of me to ask after what happened at the motel. But I want to hear his answer anyway.
“If I were you? You mean if I was screwing an eighteen-year-old girl who’s my brother’s girlfriend’s little sister, whose mother hates me because I’m the spawn of Sara Hale, and whose father dislikes likes me because he’s protective over his youngest, wildest daughte
r?”
I open my mouth to chew him out, but he cuts me off.
“But if I’m you,” he says with the tilt of his head, “I’ve also been there for that girl. When she had an ape of a boyfriend, when she was alone and all backs were turned, when she was going through heavier things than all of us realized.” His calm tone soothes any anger that threatens to rise. Just like that. “If I were you, Ryke, I’d stop letting people see the worst parts of me, and I’d finally show them the good.” He shrugs. “But I’m clearly not you.” He stares around at the forest landscape. “And you’re not me.”
“I just don’t see what good it’ll do to have those fucking arguments.” I don’t want to fight. I just want to leave it all behind. I watch Daisy unfold all of the chairs with Lo. He motions to her messily cut hair, and she shows him the back, the blonde strands uneven. He shakes his head, but her face has never been brighter, even with a scar.
“Why does there have to be an argument?” Connor asks.
“You think people are just going to accept any explanation that comes out of my mouth? I can talk to her mom until she’s blue in the fucking face. She won’t accept me, Connor. Her dad let Daisy date Julian, a guy my age who thought more with his cock than his head, and I’m the one who receives threatening looks when I stop by her parent’s house.”
“First off, he didn’t let her date Julian,” Connor notes. “He was furious. You weren’t there when Jonathan and Greg were trying to plot ways to have him fired from his modeling agency.”
“That clearly didn’t work.”
“I said tried,” Connor says easily. “I never said they were successful.” He presses a few buttons on his phone again. “Greg is a smart guy, Ryke. Even though you aren’t dating Daisy out in the open, he’s known since she was fifteen that she’s had a crush on you. He’s just worried you’re going to lead her on and break her heart.”
I wish I had a better relationship with her parents, but I don’t. In order to be Greg’s friend like Connor is, I’d have to start talking to my father. Greg and Jonathan see each other all the fucking time. Greg used to stop by the country club on Mondays when I was a kid. He was the water to my father’s scotch. Nice. Cool, even. Sometimes I used to wish he was my dad.
Hothouse Flower (Calloway Sisters) Page 25
