Hearing that—it hardens my face. The Gucci shoot was months ago, and even though I know she couldn’t be with those guys—we slept in the same bed every night—the accusations piss me off. Rose wants to expel bad energy, but I don’t read these tabloids for a reason.
“You go,” Daisy tells me. She tries to kick my chair over with her foot, but she doesn’t have enough strength when she’s standing up high. I don’t rise. I just look down at the magazine in my hands after finding the center article. “Ryke Meadows in another fight with a photog. And they show a picture of me yelling at some cameraman.” I lazily toss the magazine in and lean back in my chair.
“Do you feel any different?” Daisy asks as she hops off her chair.
“Nope.”
Daisy gasps and looks to Rose. “It didn’t work on him. Can we cast a spell to protect him from evil?”
Rose rolls her eyes now and then she looks at my brother. “Loren, please go.”
He reluctantly rises, but only because Lily climbs off his lap and physically pulls him from the chair. When his eyes fall to the magazine I see how they change. They sharpen and turn cold. “Another source confirms molestation rumors. Jonathan Hale and Loren Hale continue to deny them. Jonathan’s first son has yet to comment.”
No one speaks. An uncomfortable tension blankets our campsite. I wait for Lo to throw the magazine into the fire or curse me out or both. But his eyes remain on the tabloid and his brows furrow as he continues to read silently. He starts shaking his head.
“What is it?” Connor asks.
“A psychiatrist specializing in sex addiction was interviewed,” Loren reads, “and confirms that most sex addicts experience sexual trauma. We have confirmation that…” He rubs his lips to hide emotion, his eyes reddening. He shakes his head. “We have confirmation that Lily Calloway spent much of her time with the Hales. It’s suspected that Jonathan Hale might have bene an influence in her addiction.”
They’re implying that Jonathan abused her too.
I can’t see that happening. I shake my head as much as Lo. My dad may be a bad fucking guy, but he wouldn’t do that to Lily, to his best friend’s daughter. It’s something unthinkable.
And if Lo saw that happen, he wouldn’t roll over and stay quiet. He would go absolutely crazy. He would have, without a fucking doubt, killed our father.
“What?” Lily says, gaping. “Lo, that never happened.”
Lo looks up at her and his gaze immediately softens. “I know, Lil.” He doesn’t even hesitate. Doesn’t question her or think otherwise. There’s complete loyalty between them. But it doesn’t break the pain that they share between their gazes. They’re both being dragged through this.
“Throw it in,” Rose says quietly.
He does it. And I watch it burn, right along with my thoughts.
I don’t know what or who to believe anymore.
Everything’s just dark.
< 40 >
RYKE MEADOWS
I am alone with Daisy. In a tent.
“I’m not surprised,” Daisy whispers. I attached a flashlight at the top of the three-person tent and it dangles like a lamp. I can see all of her as she sits cross-legged. I lie on my back, watching her twist her hair into a bun. “Rose thought the shadows were bugs, and she rolled on top of Lily, she was so grossed out.” Daisy smiles at the image. “She’s never been camping.”
“Really? I hadn’t fucking noticed,” I say. Rose was the first to ditch the all-girls tent. She unzipped the one I was in, bracing an axe in her hand like she was ready to murder all of us. I think the thought seriously crossed my brother’s mind.
But Connor reached out for her, and she melted, like a feral cat turned into a soft kitten. Before I left, his arms were wrapped around her, and she seemed content. Lily showed up next, too frightened to be alone with just Daisy in the all-girls tent. In Lo’s words, Rose could scare off a “wildebeest” and without her, Lily decided to seek comfort with her boyfriend.
Which left Daisy all by herself.
And it gave me a necessary excuse to sleep in her tent. No one really wanted her to be alone in the middle of the woods. Not even my brother.
“Lie down,” I tell Daisy. I can tell she’s having trouble sleeping. She doesn’t want to take Ambien tonight, and I can’t push her to take that pill anymore. The side effects are too intense. There has to be another way to combat her insomnia.
Instead of lying down, she straddles my waist. She’s wearing my track sweatpants that are baggy on her legs. I fucking love her in my clothes. “I can’t sleep,” she says.