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Thrive (Addicted, #4)(6)

Author:Krista Ritchie & Becca Ritchie

Right. I exhale deeply, wiping some of the wetness by my eyes. Curse Wednesday. That moment still feels fresh, even remembering brings waterworks.

“It helps that you look upset,” Lo tells me under his breath. “He’ll believe we were just talking.”

Good.

No one knows we’re having more sex.

Not my sisters.

Not his brother.

Not Connor or even our therapist.

We don’t think they’ll understand, and we’re both exhausted from all the voices in our lives. For once, we just want to do this together. Alone.

Lily and Lo.

Like it was before.

Only better this time.

We’re stronger now.

Lo unlocks the door, but Ryke is the one to open it. The chatter from the crowded diner almost blasts me backwards, but Lo keeps me close. I realize that they’re both glaring at each other—that is until Ryke scrutinizes me, trying to spot the stain of debauchery on my clothes.

My jeans are zipped and my shirt is straight and wrinkle-free, thank you very much.

“We were just talking,” Lo snaps.

Either Ryke trusts Lo enough to believe him or Ryke has very bad sleuthing skills. He could never be a private investigator. Maybe ditching journalism was a good idea.

His concern shifts off his younger brother and pins to me. “You okay?” He even takes a step closer, and at the nearness, the girls in the room shriek uncontrollably and start clapping.

Someone yells, “Love triangle!”

Oh my God. No, no, no. I push Ryke back with two firm palms, and he raises his hands in defense.

Ryke sighs heavily, almost growling, and agitation hardens his jaw. “So now I can’t even be concerned about you?”

“I’m not cheating on Lo with you.” I hope everyone in Lucky’s heard that. I almost want to stand on a chair and scream it. That’s something my little sister, Daisy, would definitely do. But while the idea sounds awesome, I can’t bring myself to execute the task.

What if someone throws a hamburger patty at me? Oh my God—what if they chucked a hot dog at my face? That would be my luck.

“Lily!” Lo shouts. He shakes my shoulder. “Calm down.”

“I…I am calm.” Am I not calm?

“You’re panting like you’re being chased.”

I glance between the two guys who’ve blocked my view of the diner with their bodies, literally creating a manly wall right in front of me. I’d find it sexy if I didn’t know what was behind them.

And then someone else shouts, “Three-way!”

Oh my God. No. I start, “I am not having sex with—”

“Let it go,” Lo tells me with a dark gaze, matching his brother’s. “You can scream and shout but those tabloids are going to run a fake story tomorrow and the next day. I want to fucking eat.” He turns to Ryke. “Do you?”

Ryke nods. “Yeah I’m fucking starved.”

Lo looks to me again. “I’m not letting anyone run us out.”

They’ve teamed up against me.

I think I like when they’re united more than when they’re against each other. It gives me the confidence I need to trek over to the booth, sit down, and order the food I want.

A hot dog.

{ 3 }

0 years : 01 month

September

LOREN HALE

Lying to everyone we love, it’s not as difficult as it seems. Maybe because we’ve spent more time lying than we have telling the truth. Or because I love her more than anyone else in my life.

I’m tired of having third-party opinions about Lily’s sex life. She’s fucking me. The only opinions that should matter are mine and hers.

And so that’s how it’s going to be.

Fuck everyone who thinks I’m the same self-indulgent kid who begged her to date me without letting go of my booze.

That guy is dead.

I try to ignore the comics that litter my desk in unorganized piles. Connor Cobalt would shit his pants if he sauntered into my office right now. Last week, he spent an entire hour helping me file my work, but it arrives faster than I can manage.

Halway Comics, a small indie publishing company, exploded on the internet with the headline: Loren Hale Starts a New Business Venture. Now I’m flooded with proposals from aspiring artists—and no matter how hard I try, I can never keep up.

Maybe if I gave one-hundred percent of myself to the business it’d be easier. But I’m giving maybe forty percent. I happily give the rest to Lily.

“What kind of buckle is this?” Lily fumbles with my belt, her knees on the carpet in front of my desk. The leather chair squeaks as I roll back and push her hands away.

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