He lifts up my sweater and tugs at the band of my leggings to peer down. After pulling at my panties, we both see a few droplets of blood.
“Lo…” I say, tears welling.
“It’s probably nothing…” But he already has his phone out, dialing a number. I’m guessing 911. He kisses my temple and then whispers, “Climb out. I’m right behind you.”
I swallow a lump and step out of the car. Police sirens blare in the distance, and glass sprinkles the pavement. The Trailblazer isn’t as beat up as our smaller car, but the driver is still inspecting his bumper.
“Daisy,” Ryke says, his voice full of concern.
My head whips to the side, and I spot my little sister leaning against the Audi’s hood. She stares faraway, lost in her mind it seems. Ryke keeps waving a hand at her, but she’s not even responding.
“Daisy, fucking look at me.”
“What…” She blinks in a daze, and her arms tremble. It’s like she’s somewhere else entirely, maybe back in Paris, in the riot, where her face was scarred. The sirens and wreck could’ve triggered the trauma from that night.
Lo emerges from the Audi and immediately places his hands on my hips. “Lily,” he whispers, “an ambulance is coming. I just want to get you checked out. As a precaution, okay?” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear.
I bite my gums to keep my watery gaze at bay. “What about the meeting with your dad?”
“I’ve texted him.” He hugs me to his chest. “It’s probably nothing,” he says again.
Yeah. It’s probably nothing.
I feel a hot tear escape. I’m at the mercy of fate. It’s a cruel thing. To be in the hands of the universe.
Forces that are rarely on our side.
{ 9 }
LOREN HALE
“I just wish I could feel him,” Lily says.
She rests on the hospital bed, one of her palms on her lower abdomen. I hold her other hand, standing beside her while we wait for the ER doctor to return and do an ultrasound.
“I mean, I know I haven’t felt him before. But now I just really wish he’d kick or move, just to let me know that he’s…” Tears build in her green eyes, her cheeks splotched with red.
I squeeze her hand. “He’s fine,” I say, my voice more edged than I like. My pulse hasn’t slowed. I don’t want to lose him—it’s a realization that crushes my lungs.
I don’t want to lose this kid that I never even wanted.
He’s a piece of me and Lily, and most people would consider that a tainted, damaged thing. But the more I think about it—and the longer she carries our child—I recognize all of the good parts of us.
They fucking exist.
And there is a hope, a chance, that he could be more than what I am. That he could be better than me.
Lily sniffs, and I wipe beneath her eyes with my thumb. I turn my head to check on my brother.
By the door, Ryke sits hunched over. A cellphone on his lap. His face buried in his hands. He’s apologized about a hundred times.
Once for my totaled car, ninety-nine times for Lily.
“It’s not your fault,” I say for the fiftieth. The car hit us. It was just a freak accident.
“I was speeding,” Ryke says, dropping his hands. His eyes are bloodshot. Mine remain dry and continue to burn, so I’m guessing they mirror his.
“Not by much.” He slowed down by that point.
His phone buzzes, and he quickly picks it up. His face contorts. “She’s getting fucking psych evaluated.” He tried to follow Daisy to her hospital room, but a nurse told him family only and so he was shuffled to ours.
Now we know why they kicked him out. “Maybe that’s a good thing,” I tell him.
Her eyes didn’t look right. The Paris riot—it’s still with me. Ryke’s eyebrow is slit in the corner, a literal scar from that night like Daisy’s cheek. I have no external wounds to show for, but I remember the fear, the complete lack of control, and I never want to experience that again. It’s panic so deep that death feels close. Suffocating.
Inside out.
Today was a very small taste of that, and I think we all know it triggered something in Daisy that we can’t see.
Ryke runs his hands through his hair, distressed, and then he scans Lily on the hospital bed. “I’m so fucking sorry, Lily.”
“It’s okay,” she says in a soft voice. Her chin quakes.
“Shh, love.” I lean closer to her and hold her face between two hands. “He’s okay.” My chest collapses at the pain in her eyes.
“I can’t feel him,” she cries, tears leaking.
My heart is torn to shreds. “You could never feel him,” I remind her. “It doesn’t mean he’s dead.” The moment I say the word, she bursts from a cry to a guttural sob. I can’t explain this hurt that courses through me, it’s like being submerged beneath water. “Shh, Lil,” I choke out her name. I end up stroking her head, wishing I could just crawl on the hospital bed and hold her in my arms.
The door suddenly opens, but it’s Ryke. Leaving. I catch him pinching his eyes before he disappears. After a few minutes of silence, Lily breathes out trained breaths, her eyes shut as wet trails streak her cheeks.
When Ryke enters the room again, so does the doctor, and I wonder if my brother tracked him down. I have a feeling he did.
The man with combed blond hair and blue scrubs does a small double-take, recognizing our faces from the media, probably. He snatches a chart off the wall. “I’m Dr. Adams. I’ll be taking your ultrasound.”
“You seem young,” I say.
“I’m a first year resident.”
As long as he can read the machine, I don’t really care what year he is.
Dr. Adams sits on a stool and lifts Lily’s sweater to her ribs. While he squirts gel on her stomach, his gaze pings between me and Ryke, deep in thought. “So who’s the father?”
Ryke crosses his arms, and I glower. He can’t be serious.
“Loren is,” Lily answers softly.
“I may have lost my kid and that’s what you ask me?” I say to this guy.
Dr. Adams switches on the ultrasound monitor. “If you need a paternity test—”
“She doesn’t fucking need one,” I cut him off. My throat is too closed up to add anything else. I can’t even flash a dry smile. I just glare.
Ryke adds, “You have the worst fucking bedside manner I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m working on it,” he says unenthusiastically. And then he presses the probe on her stomach, smoothing the gel out as he runs it across her skin. The sonogram pops up on the monitor, and Lily’s fingers tighten around mine, her collar protruding as she inhales.
And slowly, I hear the beep, beep, beep of another heart.
The relief almost buckles my legs.
He’s okay.
I rub my lips as my body asks me to exhale, to breathe, to cry. I bottle every sentiment that normal people let out. Why are you fucking crying, Loren? I hear my dad’s voice in the pit of my ear. And I shut down any tears. Just like that.
“He’s looking good,” Dr. Adams affirms. “Vitals of both mother and child, no internal bleeding, everything in check.” He quickly stands up, wiping the gel off her stomach with a towel. “I suggest consulting your Ob/Gyn within the week, just as routine, but it all should be fine. I have to do some paperwork, and I’ll have a nurse release you when you’re free to go.”
He speaks so fast that he’s out the door, and the weight of this good news hits me harder.
My life wasn’t rerouted again. Not this time. I sit on the edge of the hospital bed, and Lily immediately flings her arms around my shoulders, her forehead to my chest. I hug her closer, my heart pounding so hard that I wonder if she can feel it.
I want him.
Goddamn I want this kid more than I’ve wanted a lot of things in life.
And I know it’s because he’s a part of us. I’d never want to destroy a piece of Lily. No matter if the road ahead will be rougher. Witho
ut her, it’d be unbearable. We’ve crossed a point where losing our son would hurt more than actually having him.
“Lil,” I whisper, my lips brushing her ear. “I love you.” My hand slides across her neck, and she lifts her head and kisses me, so tenderly that I understand she wants it to be one kiss and nothing more sexual. I open my mouth to ask if she’s okay.
But she speaks before I can. “You’re relieved.”
I shake my head and tilt her chin up.
She frowns.
“I’m happy,” I clarify. Despite all of my fears, I’m happy that he’s alive.
She kisses my cheek and then I can’t hold back any longer, I kiss her full-force, my breath becoming hers and hers mine. One of my arms wraps along her back. When the door creaks open, we instantly part.
“Thanks,” Daisy says to a nurse who must’ve led her here.
“Do you need anything else, honey?”
“No, I’m good.” She has stapled papers in her hand, and she waves to the nurse as she leaves. When Daisy spins around, Ryke approaches her without hesitance or caution—he kisses her on impact with deep concern. And she holds onto his waist, her body curving towards him in acceptance and want of that embrace.
I’m about to look away, but he pulls back and says, “You fucking scared me.”
“I scared myself,” she whispers, searching his eyes. “Don’t make me cry.”
“It’s okay to cry, Dais.”
My stomach knots.
She nods and stands on the tips of her toes to kiss him once more. Then she says, “I love you.”
His shoulders almost relax, but his face stays hardened. He whispers in her ear.
After I give him the time to say I love you back, I clear my throat, and they both turn to look at us.
Daisy steps forward, her eyes widening. “Lily—”
“The baby’s fine,” I explain. Lily still holds onto me like she’s learning how to breathe again. “What’s with the papers?” I gesture to the stack in Daisy’s hand.
“Oh…” Daisy pauses for a second, and she glances between me and my brother. “Guess what?” She waves the papers theatrically in the air and outstretches her arms. “I’m pregnant.” Then she bows.
The room is dead silent.
My brother’s face falls.
I go utterly still.
“What?” Ryke says, his hands resting on his head.
Lily’s jaw has dropped to the floor.
And then Daisy straightens up with a playful smile. “Just kidding.”
Ryke lets out a long breath that turns into a growl. “Fucking hell, Daisy. I’ve had about five heart attacks in the past fucking hour.”
“It was a joke,” she says quietly. “You know, the ones where you laugh at the end.”
“I’m not fucking laughing.”
“Wrong crowd,” she says. “I must’ve missed the room with the boyfriend who would’ve laughed.”
“Must be the boyfriend who doesn’t know you that well.” He grabs the papers out of her hand and flips through them. She used the “I’m pregnant” announcement to deflect whatever those papers are about.
Ryke’s features turn grave, and I understand how serious it must be.
“What is it?” Lily asks Daisy.
She shrugs weakly. “They want to put me on some medication again.”
Ryke folds the paper, which must be prescriptions that she’ll need to pick up, and he stuffs it in his back pocket.
My phone buzzes, but so does everyone else’s.
We all check the group text.
Please, one of you, fucking call me. We’ll reschedule the meeting. I just want to know if my grandson’s alive. – Dad
He’d probably be here if traffic wasn’t gridlocked from the wreck. I’m the first to text him back.
Yeah. I hesitate on what else to add, my body binding with more emotion. I try to smother these feelings on instinct. I swallow and type: He’s okay.
{ 10 }
LOREN HALE
With a grocery bag in hand, I slowly open the door to my bedroom. I hope Lily is either asleep or watching Thor from where we left off—right before she craved apples and cream cheese icing. Both of which, weren’t in the house. I had to take Lily’s car—since mine is out of commission—to make a run to the store.
When I walk through, I see Lil on our bed, my tablet cupped in her hand while her brows furrow. The moment I shut the door, she flinches and hides the tablet beneath the comforters.
Not porn, is my first and only thought.
“Hiding something?” I ask her.
She holds out her hands for the grocery bag, her eyes widening. I stand at the foot of the bed. She looks ridiculously adorable dressed in her red Spider-Man onesie, pajamas that she bought in college.
“Did you get the icing?” She perks up and reaches for the plastic bag.
I retract my arm, keeping a hard demeanor. “How about we trade? Give me the tablet and I’ll give you the food?”
“I wasn’t doing anything wrong,” she says, but makes no movement to grab the tablet.
I suddenly seize her ankle and tug her to the edge of the bed quickly. The breath rushes out of her, and her eyes land solely on my package. I put my face very close to hers so she stares right into my gaze. “Lily Calloway, are you looking at porn?”
“No,” she says. I don’t detect the lie.
“Were you on Tumblr?”
She presses her lips together.
I give her a no-nonsense look. “Lil.”
“Lo.”
I shake my head at her. “What could be so goddamn interesting that you’d risk your precious apples and icing?”
She raises her hands. “I can explain.” Her mouth stays frozen, wide open, and no words escape.
To cut to the chase, I rest a knee on the bed, lean forward and steal my tablet back. She doesn’t even attempt to retrieve it. She just buries her face in the comforter, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment.
I’m more confused. I type in my password on the lock screen. And what pops up is an article, not on Tumblr, titled: Best sex positions during pregnancy.
It’s not even close to being bad.
She mumbles something into the comforter that sounds like, I was just curious.
I take the tub of icing and the tray of sliced apples out of the bag and then roll Lily on her back. She shields her face with her hands.
“I couldn’t help it. I mean, I could, but I just wondered what would feel the best and…and I’m going to stop talking now.”
I straddle her, my knees on either side of her hips, and she peeks out of her fingers, inspecting the icing and the apples in my clutch.
“Am I dreaming?” she whispers.
“No, love.”
She crinkles her nose. “This seems an awful lot like one of my fantasies.” She pauses. “Only you’re supposed to be naked.”
“In time,” I tell her, snapping open the tub of icing.
“So you’re not mad at me?” she asks, propping her body on her elbows.
“I trust you, Lil.” I’d rather her be comfortable when we sleep together than panicked and anxious anyway. I recognize how unfair it must be when I can read all of these sites, have all of this knowledge, and she’s supposedly not allowed any of it—for the sake of not arousing her. We’re going to fuck regardless.
She reddens even more as she whispers, “Are we going to have sex right now?”
“Why are you whispering?” I say. “Are you hiding someone under the bed?”
“No,” she says, watching me dip an apple in icing.
With my other hand, I cup the spot between her legs, and she writhes beneath me, a breathless sound leaving her lips. My cock throbs a couple times. I’m about to put the apple between her lips, but the moment I lean forward, our window suddenly shatters. I flinch as a projectile thuds hard on the floorboards.
What the hell?
Lily goes rigid in fright, her fingers gripping my biceps
.
Climbing off her body, I instinctively position her behind me. “Lil, stay back.” My command is muffled through shouting outside, alarmed voices that echo into our bedroom.
“Come on, go, go!”
“Run. Run! He’s going to see us!”
My pulse is racing with blood-red heat as I start to piece together this incident. A prank. I grind my teeth. A stupid prank. I immediately stand off the bed, and Lily crawls to the edge.
I give her a warning look. “Lily, stay back.” Too much glass litters the floor, and I don’t want her near it. My eyes fall to her abdomen. I have someone else to look out for too. This must trigger a maternal impulse in Lily. She remains still, not following me.
With a pit in my stomach, I step around the sharp shards and pick up a brick, a note attached with a rubber band. I head to the window before I read it, my muscles in taut strands. Right outside, I spot about five teenagers in black hoodies, sprinting across our yard. Floodlights still illuminate the grass.
Only one of the guys turns to look back. And his eyes meet mine. Dead on. I feel how severely sharpened my face is—I sense the malice in my eyes. But it all bleeds away the moment I see the same exact expression in this teenager. The same guy that I grabbed in the street during the paintball prank.
I shake my head at him.
He inhales heavily. And then he sprints away, following his friends. My gaze falls to the cold brick. I snap off the rubber band and unfurl the white paper.
“What does it say?” Lily asks.
Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
Fuck your slut.
We all know your brother will too.
With white knuckles, I crumple the paper, my veins on fire. I suppress this irritation. I hate the three-way rumors, but what I hate more are the ones about our kid belonging to Ryke.
“Lo?” she says.
And what I can’t stomach—is Lily’s reaction to these things. It tears her down, and I want her to rise above it all. But it fucking hurts. I know it. So I’m going to do my best to shield her from this shit.
I pull the velvet purple curtains closed, a lie already concocted in my head. “It’s a bad joke about small dicks. It’s not even funny.”
She nods, probably not even believing me, but she lets it go anyway. Her gaze travels to the glass, the broken window already concealed behind the curtain.
Addicted After All Page 7
