Ryke just keeps shaking his head over and over.
“Ryke, I’ll be fine,” Daisy tells him. “It could be fun.”
He towers above her while she’s on the loveseat. “You spent years doing things for your fucking mom. I’m not letting you do the same for my dad.” He turns back to Jonathan. “I’ll go through with the meetings, whatever. Just leave Daisy alone.”
“That’s not how it works,” he says. “She can sabotage herself so they won’t pick her, but she’s still required to attend the meetings.”
Ryke’s eyes flash hot. “You can’t just promise people things without asking us if it’s fucking okay.”
“Do you ever look at the name beside all the deposits in your checking account, Ryke? It’s Hale Co.—every penny in your trust fund is from that company, and so I don’t believe I should have to ask for your permission.”
Ryke sets his hands on top of his head. “This is fucking unbelievable.”
“I’m losing my goddamn company, and you’re throwing a hissy fit. You’ve never even had real job. You’re all privileged and lucky. Every day you take it for granted.”
Shit.
It’s like he busted something in Ryke. My brother charges forward, and I shoot to my feet and grab his shoulder.
“Come on,” I whisper to him, trying to force him backwards, but he’s like a brick wall and his target is on Jonathan.
Ryke glowers. “I grew up pretending to have no real fucking parents. I’m an alcoholic. Both of your sons are alcoholics. There is no amount of privilege and wealth worth what’s been fucking done to us and said about the people we love.” And he ends it with, “I’m lucky to be alive, but I am not lucky to be your son.”
My ribs bind around my lungs. The fact that they’re on speaking terms, after years of silence, is progress enough.
“Please, tell me what you really feel,” my dad says dryly.
Daisy jumps to her feet and stands between Ryke and my dad. She places her hands on my brother’s chest. “Ryke, it’s okay.”
I glance back at Lily. She’s staring off in a daze, but her palms are flat on top of the blanket. She’s not touching herself. That eases some of my worry.
“Stay the fuck out of this,” Ryke tells her. “I don’t want you in it.”
“I’d rather be picked to run Hale Co. than watch you take it over,” she says honestly. “You’ve told me a million times how you’ve never wanted to be a part of it. And you always say to never do things that you hate, do the things you love. So don’t change now.”
His nose flares. “You’ll fucking hate this job too. You’ll be inside a building, in a cubicle, all fucking day, Dais.”
“It’s an office,” our dad interjects, “with one of the best views of Philly. There are plenty of windows for her to jump out of.”
Ryke looks like he could strangle him.
I grimace because it’s a bad comment—one that I could’ve easily made instead.
“Ryke.” Daisy clasps his arm, drawing his attention to her. “How about you let me decide what I hate and what I love, okay?” Her voice is sweet, but her words pack a punch.
He relents, right there. “I fucking hate this,” he says lowly.
And I realize that she’s not going to sabotage her chances. Because she doesn’t want Ryke to be chosen. Ryke is probably going to try harder—because he doesn’t want Daisy to live this kind of life. I think we all know there’s a two-percent chance she’ll enjoy it.
As much as I would like to get off free, damage my own chances, and leave Ryke or Daisy to follow my father’s dreams and not their own—I’m not that guy anymore. The hard things are usually the right things.
I know that now.
“I’ll do it,” I say. I have to do it, but I’m telling the whole room that I’m going to try. My chest constricts with the weight and pressure of this statement. Of the things and responsibilities that will become mine. It all rests right on top of Halway Comics, Superheroes & Scones, my child, and our addictions.
“No,” Connor and Rose say in unison, both of them glaring at me for even offering.
But my dad is on cloud nine. I’ve never seen him smile like that, his pride overwhelming, and the foreign sentiment sits strangely inside me. He’s always wanted me to take over Hale Co. Not Ryke. I may be the bastard and the second-born son, but I’m the one he raised.