Home > Books > Addicted After All (Addicted #5)(189)

Addicted After All (Addicted #5)(189)

Author:Krista Ritchie & Becca Ritchie

“Check the moon,” I tell him.

He gives me a weird look.

My lips pull in a dry smile. “That’s where she claims she goes in her answering machine message.”

“Hilarious.” He pops a chip in his mouth.

Moffy squirms, waking from his nap. He tries to suck on my finger, and before I ask, Lil passes me his bottle. I press it to his lips, and he eagerly grips the sides as he drinks.

Then Lily makes a gasping noise.

“What?” I quickly look up at her, but she’s not focused on Moffy.

“You don’t see it,” she says, trying to cover my eyes. Hers are planted on something by the apple bobbing tub.

“Too late,” I tell her, my gaze narrowing at Garrison dressed as nothing. He just wears all-black. And he fixes my sister’s wet hair off her forehead, her costume: Chun-Li from Street Fighter. His hand brushes her hip, and she lets out a nervous laugh.

I like him. But I like her more. Willow is my responsibility while she lives in Philly, and his track-record is shit.

“They’re cute,” Lily reminds me.

I shake my head and grimace the longer I watch this young romance unfold. I wonder if we were that love sick growing up.

Ryke tells Lily, “He’s a fucking hormonal teenage guy with anger issues. It’s not cute.”

Lily swallows a bite of cookie. “I was a hormonal teenage girl. Minus the teenage part, I still kind of am…”

“And you’re adorable,” I tell Lily, kissing her temple.

“Anger issues,” Ryke emphasizes, licking his fingers.

Garrison slings his arm around Willow’s waist. Great. Quickly, I press a hand to Moffy’s ear and shout, “Hey! You two!”

Willow and Garrison’s heads whip over to the hay bales across the pool. It takes a single Hale death-glare for them to break apart like a bomb exploded at their feet.

“That was mean,” Lily tells me.

Ryke butts in, “You wouldn’t think it was mean if you knew the shit he said about you.”

“What?” she frowns.

I’m not close enough to slap the back of my brother’s head, but I’d like to. “He has no filter,” I remind her. “He’s working on it.” Hopefully. I’ve talked to him a lot at Superheroes & Scones. He’s still a dick, but he’s less of a dick now than he was before.

Ryke has a hard time forgiving any guy who degrades women—except maybe me. I called his own mom a word that he can’t even say…and at the time, I thought she was my mother. It’s fucked up. I was fucked up. So I get that guy. More than anyone probably will.

“Ca-caw!” someone shouts from up high. We all follow the noise to the roof of the house. “Ca-caw!” Daisy, wearing an antler headband and a brown shirt, sits on the shingles. Her gaze is pinned right on my brother. “Hunt me.”

She might as well have said fuck me. I try to tune them out and feed my kid, but it’s hard not to overhear.

“Deer don’t ca-caw, Calloway,” Ryke deadpans.

She gasps. “How’d you know I was a deer?” Her smile brightens as she swings her legs off the ledge. Her hair is pulled back in a braid, her long scar visible across her face.

Lily slaps my arm repeatedly. “Nerd star alert,” she tells me.

Jesus Christ, I don’t have the mental stability to watch both couples at the same time. My brain will implode on impact. I purposefully just train my focus on my brother if I have to choose one. I missed his reply to Daisy, but he trashes his plate and heads to her.

Instead of entering the house, he climbs up the drainpipe, using his upper-body strength. Making it look like he’s taking the fucking stairs to reach Daisy. When he sits his ass on the shingles and kisses her, more than a few people clap and cheer.

But all I see is a guy who’ll be bedridden for a month and a half after a high-risk surgery. And even if he’s okay after that, I see a guy who’s willing to climb four-thousand foot cliffs with no rope to catch him.

My brother’s lifespan is shorter than mine. I know it. And I hate it.

He deserves to outlive me and every goddamn person here.

Never in my life did I think having a brother would change me. Make me better than who I am. But there’s something about siblings that pushes you to thrive in ways that a parent can’t.

“Hey, Lil,” I breathe, putting Moffy’s bottle down.

“Hmm?” She’s fixated on Connor and Rose, a giddy smile on her face. Her sister saved her. I said that to Ryke earlier, and it’s the fucking truth. Rose took care of Lily when I was in rehab; she was there when I should’ve been. When I couldn’t be.