He kisses my temple and then slides out from under the sheet. “I’m going to take a shower.” As he climbs off the bed, buck naked, he gives me a look that says join me.
My face brightens, and I’m about to run into his arms when my phone pings. Lo’s phone vibrates on the nightstand too. He checks his screen while I check mine.
7:30 p.m. at my house on Wednesday. This is mandatory, so if you’re considering cancelling, think again. – Jonathan
I look at who he group texted: Daisy, Ryke, Lo and me. He’s reminding us about the “meeting” he’s called. “It looks like just a dinner,” I say, though my stomach flips.
“Yeah.” Lo’s voice isn’t as optimistic.
I’m trying to prepare for the worst—but at this point, I’m not even sure what the worst is anymore.
{ 5 }
LOREN HALE
Heavy sleet and snow confines us indoors for the morning, but even though we can’t run outside, I stop by my brother’s room to see if he’ll workout with Connor and me. My muscles pull taut, my chest bound tight, and I need to release this tension before I open the envelope and especially before we meet with our father.
When I try to turn the doorknob, it clicks locked. I sigh agitatedly. I’ve already tried texting him, and he didn’t answer. Fuck it, I’m waking him up. I bang my fist on the white wood and wait for a response.
After a few seconds of hushed noises and footsteps, the door swings open. Ryke holds the frame with a rigid arm while I catch Daisy skirting into her bathroom behind him.
“What?” Ryke asks curtly, only wearing drawstring pants. It’s not his lack of clothes or even Daisy sleeping with him that I have a problem with. Those facts I’ve accepted, no matter how weird it is at times.
It’s his apparent exhaustion that bothers me. Even beneath his hardened, dark glare, I can spot how tired he is by his eyes. “Did you sleep last night?”
The shower squeaks through the wall. Ryke shakes his head and speaks quietly. “She was terrified, and nothing I did helped…” He runs his fingers through his thick hair.
My older brother likes to insert himself in any situation, to fix it, so this is probably killing him. “She has to go to the meeting Wednesday,” I remind him. “I know it fucking sucks, but we need to play by his rules.” I don’t want to find out what happens if one of us cancels on our dad. And I also fear pushing him to drink. He’s been sober for this long—and he’s different now. Sure he’s still an asshole, not exactly soft, but he filters a lot of his comments.
It’s easier to be around him.
Ryke pinches his eyes and then rubs them wearily. “I’m going to call Daisy’s therapist and hopefully she’ll see her before the meeting.”
I listen to the shower water splash against the tiles, and a thought barrels into me, one that twists my face in a cringe. But I put it out there anyway. “Have you tried just having sex?” I ask.
Ryke glowers and his hand tightens on the door frame like he’s going to slam it in my face.
I elaborate with an edged voice. “I’m not saying it’s a solution, but she’ll be exhausted if you go at it long enough and then she’ll fall asleep.”
“Is that what you do with Lily?” he asks tensely.
I grind my teeth. He’s not spinning this back on me. “It’s one fucking time, you asshole,” I tell him, “Daisy won’t be addicted to it. So go fuck her, so she can shut off her brain and sleep.”
Ryke’s shoulders slacken. “She’s on her period, and she’s not excited about the idea of being fucked right now.”
Jesus Christ. I rub my mouth and try not to think hard about who we’re discussing. “She’s in the damn shower. Stop talking to me and go have sex. And when you’re done, I’ll be at the gym with Connor.” I start walking backwards as I talk. “Come with her, don’t come with us, and I’ll see you later.”
He flips me off, but I catch him nod as he shuts his door.
I descend the stairs and round into the kitchen—twice as large as the one in the Princeton house. The expensive silver appliances, granite countertops, gray walls, and leather bar stools are all thanks to some interior designer Rose hired. Every time I notice the mansion décor, modern and classic and more adult than I am, I realize that I’m supposed to have my shit together.
That I’m no longer in my college years.
I’m twenty-four. Time to grow up.