“I still had to run, and I had two fucking choices. I could reach the finish line or just walk away. I took my fucking mark, and right when I started the race, I began to slow down. And then I fucking stopped on the track, took a couple deep breaths and walked off.” My heart beats faster at the memory. “My coach pulled me aside and he told me something…” I shake my head. “It’s stayed with me for so many fucking years. It changed me.”
I meet her eyes that are filled with my pain, sensing the hurt that travels through my body, thinning the air.
I can practically hear my coach in my ear, see him standing on the sidelines, one hand on my shoulder. “He said that I could be anything and do anything, and no one can stop me but me.” I say what he did, “You are your own anchor, Ryke. When you fail, you hurt yourself more than anyone else. Do you want to keep burning or are you going to let yourself rise?”
My brother—I don’t think he ever had someone to tell him this. He just kept failing until there was no way he could ever succeed.
I reach out to Daisy and tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “So I’m the anchor and the phoenix, and it was around this time that I learned to run for me. I stopped winning for my fucking mom, for my dad. Every achievement, every good grade—that was mine. I started living my dreams and I stopped living theirs.”
She smiles, tears in her eyes. “That’s beautiful, you know.”
I sit up with her and kiss her cheek. It feels good to finally share that with someone. I never thought it would matter, but I can see that it does.
“How did you know that you loved running and rock climbing?” she asks me.
I think about this for a second. Take away all of my trophies, all the success, would I still run and climb? My lips rise at the answer. “Because when you find something you love, you can’t quit. Every failure pushes you harder. It’s in your soul and in your fucking heart.”
“And what if I never find what I love?”
“You have to try some things,” I say, not worried about this as much as she probably is. She’s only eighteen. She’ll figure it out. She has time, even though her mom makes it seem like she has none. “I got lucky.” I kiss her temple. “Try to sleep with me, Dais.”
She smiles and opens her mouth to make a very fucking obvious quip.
“Real sleep,” I say, lying back down with her. I hold her to my chest, keeping her safe.
And I wait for her to start dreaming.
< 41 >
RYKE MEADOWS
I unzip the tent, running my hand through my hair while the birds chirp. I can tell it’s early. Probably around six, and Daisy only fell asleep an hour ago. I didn’t close my eyes at all, and honestly, my body isn’t that tired. Fucking her was the best adrenaline rush I could have. I’m still living that high.
I immediately find Connor and Rose around the campfire, both dressed in inappropriate fucking clothes for the morning. A suit and a dress. And they’re drinking coffee from Dunkin Donuts paper cups.
I outstretch my arms. “You’re a bunch of fucking cheaters.”
Rose scoffs as though I punched her in the face. “We did not cheat.”
I slouch in a chair across from them. “You can’t buy coffee while you’re camping.”
“I’ve never heard of these rules,” Connor says. He sips his store-bought coffee with a pompous grin.
“You camp and you make instant coffee with boiled water and powder packets.” I shake my head at them. “Running to the store is like excusing yourself to go to the bathroom during a test, checking answers on your phone.”
Rose’s eyes narrow at me and then she takes a larger sip of her coffee too, not backing down. Connor looks like he could fuck her right there.
Whatever.
“You’re glowing, by the way,” Connor tells me. I don’t like that knowing expression on his face.
“Fuck off, Cobalt.” I kick my boots up on the cooler.
Rose plants her fierce fucking yellow-green eyes on me. “Did you wear a condom?” she asks in a hushed but forceful voice, pretty careful not to wake up my brother.
My face hardens. There’s no way they heard us last night, but Connor puts details together to find facts, so I’m not that surprised he’s figured it out. Or that he’s been keeping Rose updated on my relationship with Daisy. “Did you wear one when you first fucked Connor?” I retort.
Her neck reddens. “That’s not the point.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay then.” I have nothing else to say. I’m not about to explain how I always wear condoms with other women, but I honestly don’t see the fucking need to with Daisy. We’re in a serious relationship. I trust her. And I trust me. The. Fucking. End.
I’m about to stand up, but Rose says something that keeps me here.
“Be careful with her, Ryke. She might be experienced, but she’s still my sister. If you hurt her, I’ll personally snip off your balls and hang them on the Christmas tree this year.”
I internally cringe. “I wouldn’t fucking hurt her, I promise you, Rose.”
She nods. “Okay then,” she repeats what I did, and I almost smile.
“I’m going to get more wood,” I tell them.
Connor follows me with his coffee in hand. “I’ll help.”
“Feel guilty for cheating?” I ask, heading towards the forest.
“No,” he says, his expensive shoes crunching the leaves. “I just thought you needed an extra pair of hands.”
I wait for the punchline. My brows rise when it doesn’t come. “No insult?” It’s weird not hearing a dog joke. Even with the constant badgering, he’s always been my friend, but like most of my relationships, it’s complicated. “You didn’t tell Rose about Daisy’s sleep issues, did you?” I stop about twenty feet from the woods, our camp still behind us.
“I thought about it,” Connor admits, “but you’re not giving me all the information, and I’d rather not spread around partial truths.” He waits for me to divulge more.
I won’t.
“She’s going to talk to her sisters,” I say. “She needs time.”
“Man’s greatest excuse to delay the inevitable.”
“Can you not fucking talk like your auditioning for the role of Confucius?”
“If you make a mistake and do not correct it, this is called a mistake.” Of course he goes and actually quotes Confucius. Fuck me.
I shake my head. “You’re such a fucking prick.”
He doesn’t even blink, not affected by the insult. Maybe because he knows it’s true. “You know, I never really liked Confucius. I always thought his principles were a bit basic, common sense.”
“Fascinating,” I deadpan.
He continues casually. “But there is one quote I appreciate from him.” Connor looks at me and his eyes turn serious, no pretense or humor. “Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart.”
I don’t know if he meant for this to be about Daisy. But she’s immediately what comes to mind. After what happened last night, bringing up some of the past, all I want is to go full fucking throttle. No more slowing down. No more hiding. I want to believe that I control my fate, that I’m the one who chooses to stop and start.
I want everything that my friends have. Out in the open. Real.
I have to tell Lo.
The resolution lifts this weight off my chest.
And then something rustles a bush twenty feet away. I see it out of the corner of my eye. A movement that crashes the weight back down tenfold and twists a chain around my ankles.
“Connor,” I whisper, a pit in my stomach. “Nine o’clock.”
He calmly sips his coffee and turns a fraction. Into his next sip, he says, “I can see two lenses.”
They found us.
I run a hand through my hair. I promised my brother freedom from this bullshit. I’ve failed him. Then the cameraman peers out of the bush, noticeable, and I lock eyes with him, my body blazing with anger. I start to charge forward, and Connor grabs my arm and forc
es me back by his side.
“You can’t go to court again,” he says.
The fucking cameraman no longer cares about “candid” shots that sell big to tabloids, he’s taking a video instead.
“Fuck them,” I tell Connor. “They shouldn’t be here.”
“This is public property,” Connor says. “He can legally be in the woods.”
“I said shouldn’t. How’d they get tipped?”
“RV,” the cameraman says. “I’m friends with the two guys camping next to you. Called me last night. Flew in this morning.”
I shake my head. It’d be more of a coincidence if the paparazzi didn’t get their tips like that. But mostly it’s from fucking friends and connections.
“Fucking fantastic,” I snap. I made a mistake. We should have gone to a fucking hotel. I shouldn’t have tried this. I head back to the campsite, ready to pack up. Rose is already folding chairs and pouring a water bottle on the fire.
The cameraman follows us like a shadow, entering the campsite as though we gave him permission to come hang out with us. Oh wait, we fucking didn’t.
“How many more of you are coming?” Connor asks.
He just smiles, and that’s when I hear tires and an engine groan up the hill. And then two more photographers pop out of the bushes in addition to however many are in the car. Fuck me.
“Ryke,” the guy says, his camera pointed at me as I head to Daisy’s tent. “What were the sleeping arrangements like?”
Before I unzip it, I spin around and the camera guy almost runs straight into my chest. He rights himself while a glare sears in my eyes. My fists clench. “Back the fuck off,” I growl. “You came into our campsite and disrupted our vacation. Don’t act like this is for your fucking job.”
“I’m allowed—”
“You’re allowed to breathe because I’m letting you,” I refute. “Back up and give me ten feet before I put you in the fucking ground.”
“You can’t touch me.”
I near him, and he takes a couple steps back. “You think I care about going to jail for a few hours? Fucking test me, and your thousand-dollar camera and those fucking pictures will be gone in an instant.”
He stays put where he is.
I’m so heated I can barely see straight. I open Daisy’s tent and duck my head in, careful not to let the cameraman have any view of her. She yawns tiredly, barely awake and really fucking naked. I crawl in and zip the tent back. Her spine straightens as she gets a good look at my pissed expression.
“We’re leaving,” I say, grabbing my shirt that she was in. I pull it over her head quickly.
“What’s going on?”
“Paparazzi.”
“Uh-oh.” She hurries to put the baggy sweatpants back on. They fall at her waist, and I tighten the string so they stay up. “What’s the plan?” she asks, trying not to appear scared. But she still hasn’t told anyone about the cut on her face, and I’m sure she’d rather tell her mom instead of letting her find out from the tabloids.
“I’m carrying you out,” I tell her. “Front piggyback. Put your face to my chest, okay?”
“Like how Lo carries Lily?” she asks.
I didn’t realize…but yeah, that’s how my brother carries Lily in front of the paparazzi. “Yeah, like that.”
“How many are out there?”
“A fucking lot.”
She smiles. “What’s a fucking lot? Ten? A hundred?”
I give her a look.
“What?”
“Just get in my arms.” I hold them open.
She grins wider. “Say that again.”
“Get in my fucking arms, Calloway.”
She mock gasps. “I thought you’d never ask.”
I don’t smile, but my nerves slowly start to subside. She does that to me—calms me. Makes me feel like this worry is one that should be smaller, less significant.
She crawls towards me, and I lift her in my arms, her legs wrapping above my waist and her cheek pressed to my chest. I rub my fingers through her tangled, messy hair. “Hold tight, sweetheart.”
I open the tent and the lights go off like a neon bomb.
< 42 >
DAISY CALLOWAY
We’ve split up.
I’m in a black two-door sports car that Rose had rented with Lily, heading down a freeway with Ryke. Rose, Connor, Lily, and Lo took the SUV. The paparazzi parted. Some following us, others following them.
Ryke shook off the three vans on our ass in under thirty minutes. Our sports car is manual, and Ryke switched gears and cut corners sharply, driving like he owned the road. He wasn’t scared to slam on the brake at the last minute, go in reverse or hit hundred-mile-per-hour speeds. If we didn’t just have sex, I’d think it was the sexiest, hottest thing he’s ever done with me.
Now the open freeway is less exciting, but it is peaceful. And I am thankful for no tail and the crazed paparazzi.
With a bit of decent cell signal, we made a plan with the others to meet up in Utah at the Canyonlands.
I glance over at Ryke. He has his hard eyes set on the road ahead, but his hand has been on my thigh most of the drive. Now that we’re alone, truly, it seems like more of our restrictions are disappearing. I love the freedom, and I want to make it last past this trip.
“Stop, Dais,” he tells me. “That’s fucking annoying.”
I realize I’ve opened and closed the dashboard about fifty times.
“Play with the fucking window.”
“I have,” I say. “It’s revolted against me and no longer rolls down.”
He keeps one hand on the wheel and glances at me. “You have problems.”
“What a true, true statement,” I say with a smile. “Say another.”
He flips me off and then messes my hair.
I laugh. “I can’t help my fidgetiness. It’s boring in a car.” And I’ve downed five Lightning Bolts! to battle my exhaustion. Thank you, insomnia. I’ve already untied my sneakers and braided the shoelaces into bracelets. Now I’m considering playing Cat’s Cradle with the strings.
Ryke’s eyes flit to me, and then he reaches up and presses a button by the ceiling light. The sunroof groans open.
I beam, happy to have air and the wind. I unclip my seat belt and kiss his cheek quickly before standing on the middle console. A gust blows into me first, and I take a giant breath, filling my lungs. The road has very few cars. We’re on flat land with no traffic lights and few cops in sight.
I raise my arms and shut my eyes.
I’m flying.
In this moment, I’m really, really happy.
Ryke is holding one of my ankles, but his hand runs up and down my leg. The friction and mystery of what he’s going to do races my heart. But he won’t…
His gentle movements turn rough, and his fingers urgently find the button to my jeans, and he yanks them down, all with one hand.
Holy shit.
He forces them to my feet, and I clutch onto the roof to keep my balance
He doesn’t swerve the car.
Not even as he pushes aside my panties and plunges his fingers into me, filling me instantly. Oh God. This can’t be happening. I’m standing up. Half suspended out of the freaking sunroof.
He pumps his fingers into me, and my body awakens with delight and exhilaration. I reach one arm down, back into the car, and I put my hand on his, feeling how big his fingers are compared to mine.
He hits the most sensitive place, finding it with ease, and I cry out, my voice lost in the wind. After I catch my breath, he starts building me to a higher peak. I grip his wrist, never wanting him to leave this place between my legs. Dear God, send me Ryke Meadows morning, noon and night.
Then a honk blares. I can barely turn my head, so dazed with these feelings. My lips are parted, unable to close. But I notice a family van behind us. Uh-oh.
I’m about to crawl into the car, but as soon as I duck my head in, Ryke says, “Stay.” He must not be concerned about them filmin
g us on their phones—but it’s not like they can see much. The windows are tinted. Ryke puts his knee on the wheel to steer and he sticks his other hand out the window, flipping them off.
Why is that so sexy?
His fingers move faster inside of me, driving deeper, up and down. Ahhh! I clutch harder to the roof.
Mind officially blown.
His fingers aren’t sweet. They’re rough and hard, and my knees almost buckle with the brilliant force. I’m moaning, hunched over the roof, my eyes watering from the wind.
The van lays on the horn again. And then it switches lanes and speeds to our side. A father rolls down the passenger window where his wife sits. He shouts, “There are kids on this road!”
Ryke yells back, “They’re going to fucking learn about it sooner or later. Might as well learn how to do it the best way.”
AHHH!
I disintegrate. I can’t even support my body any longer. Ryke takes his fingers out, and I drop down onto my seat and breathe heavily. I rest my forehead on his shoulders, my mouth agape. When I look through his window that he’s ignored, I notice that the wife is flushed, the husband enraged.
I don’t care.
That was awesome.
They honk again.
Ryke slams on the gas and takes off, leaving them far behind us. His fingers glisten, and he wipes them on the inside of his shirt before passing me my jeans.
When I finally breathe normally, I slip my pants back on. “Have you done that before?” I wonder. It seemed like he knew what he was doing.
“First time,” he says, trying not to smile. The sudden glimmer in his eyes gives him away though. He liked it too. Maybe not as much as me. But he definitely enjoyed that.
“Your turn,” I say, sitting up on my knees, ready to give him head.
“Later,” he tells me. He turns the car off the exit. “We’re here.”
Wherever here is.
< 43 >
RYKE MEADOWS
We can’t drive in a car all the way to the Canyonlands. She’s too hyperactive and ADD—which is an actual fucking problem right now, even if we joke about it. No matter if I’d love to finger fuck her all the way there…and with half her body out of that fucking sunroof. Fuck. My cock despises me right now. I should have let her suck me off in the parking lot before I went into the store.
Hothouse Flower (Calloway Sisters) Page 29
