But now, how do I explain this.
“What?” Ryke growls in defense at me. “I’m trying to get us out of this fucking situation.” He locks eyes with Daisy again and steps forward to try to reach her. I put my hand on his chest to stop him, and then I quickly turn to Daisy.
“Give me the rest of your money.”
“I don’t—”
“Now.” I can’t even hear my own voice or how mean it sounds. All I hear is my half-brother offering to feel up my girlfriend’s little sister. I don’t even fucking care if it was a joke or sarcasm or fucking anything. I think I’m going to kill him later.
Daisy’s smile instantly vanishes and she reaches into her bikini top again. I look at the sand, the sky, anywhere but her breasts until she places the money in my hand. I grab the rest of her cash from Ryke and start counting out two-hundred-and-sixty pesos.
“I was just trying to have fun,” she says softly, her voice layered with guilt. “I’m sorry.”
She’s apologized, and I know I should drop it. But I’m fuming. “There are other ways to have fun.” I hand Ernesto the money. Both guys nod in thanks and they walk off towards the resort near the string of straw huts and white cabanas. I look back to Daisy, and my nerves haven’t settled yet. “You’re the fucking daughter of a multi-billion dollar mogul. Bartering with a man that makes a thousand times less than you is the equivalent of stealing.”
Her eyes go big and round and a little glassy, and it hurts to know that I’m causing her distress. The pain in my chest only intensifies because I can’t stop speaking. I don’t know how. “Next time rent a fucking jet ski.”
“I just wanted to do something normal.”
“You’re not normal. None of us are.”
“Lo,” Ryke says, his tone warning. But his voice sends razorblades down my back.
“Don’t you even fucking speak to me,” I snap. I hate him right now. I hate me, most of all. I hate that I just bitched out Daisy, who didn’t really do anything wrong. At least, nothing that warranted my harsh words. The remorse tastes like acid, and I usually drown it with whiskey.
My next breath comes out ragged and Ryke focuses on me for a long moment. But when Daisy inhales strongly, staring at the sand with tears brimming, trying to bottle her emotions, he turns his gaze on her. I watch his face change. If he was concerned for me, I don’t even know what to call the expression he has for her.
What the hell did I miss when I was in rehab?
“I have to get out of here.” I cringe when I realize I said it out loud. I start walking.
Ryke awakens and follows me. “Where the fuck are you going?”
His anger fuels me and I stop suddenly. He nearly knocks into my chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I hiss. “She’s sixteen.” I see Daisy in my peripheral, standing off to the side, looking on but not wanting to interrupt.
“I’m not doing anything,” Ryke refutes.
My forehead hurts from frowning so hard. He can’t be serious, but I think he believes he is. That’s fucking terrifying. “Don’t be stupid.”
Ryke sets his hands on his head for a second. I’ve never seen him unravel, and I can tell he’s trying hard not to. “I’m blunt and abrasive,” he says. But he knows that’s not the answer I want to hear. “I can’t turn that off.”
“You’re going to turn it off around her,” I sneer. “And you know what, I invited you to Cancun, and I can uninvite you.”
“Are you uninviting me?”
“No, but I don’t want to talk to you or be around you right now.”
He grabs my arm before I turn around. “Wait.”
“What? You’re going to blame everything on the fact that you’re blunt? When Connor wants to be, he’s just as honest as you, and he would never say the things you do.”
“Because I’m a fucking asshole,” Ryke says.
“That’s not good enough.”
Ryke’s nostrils flare and he points to his chest. “I was raised by a single mother, Lo—”
“So was Connor,” I retort. I give Ryke such a hard time. I make him hurdle the highest walls, and he’s taken each test without complaint, but I can tell this one is tearing him inside. And a little part of me likes that he’s finally breaking down. The other part hates that I take pleasure in someone else’s pain.
“Stop comparing me to him,” Ryke sneers. “His mother was the head of a corporation. My mother sat around all day and plotted ways to fuck over my father. I spent years being torn between the two of them, having to choose sides, and I chose her.” He points at his chest again, his eyes blazing with heat. “I was made to believe that she was a saint and he was the sinner, when they’re both guilty of things that I can barely even stomach. Do you know what that’s like—to defend someone so vehemently out of love and then realize they were no more innocent than the man you hated? It fucking sucks.”