Cover

Addicted After All

ADDICTED AFTER ALL

BY KRISTA & BECCA RITCHIE

Addicted After All

ABOUT THE BOOK

ADDICTED AFTER ALL

Two addicts. One epic love story.

Prepare for the worst.

That’s what Lily and Lo try to do when Jonathan Hale schedules an

“important” mee ng. The problem: a er being swept into the public eye

and ba ling their addic ons, they’re not sure what the worst is anymore.

In a sea of many changes—including Ryke & Daisy living with them—Lily

realizes that the best part of her uctua ng hormones might just be the

worst.

Her sex drive is out of control.

Loren knows that she’s insa able, but he’s not giving up on her. She’s too

much a part of him. And as he carries more and more responsibility, some

of the people that he loves doubt his resolve.

In the conclusion to their love story, Lily & Lo stand side-by-side to ght,

one last me, for their happily ever a er.

Addicted After All

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHORS

Due to the 2-year gap between Addicted for Now (Addicted #3) and Addicted A er All (Addicted #5), you must read Thrive (Addicted #4) or the

Calloway Sisters spin-o series before reading Addicted A er All.

Addicted After All

PLAYLIST

All Comes Down - Kodaline

I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) - Sleeping At Last Someday - LP Like Real People Do - Hozier

Outro - M83

There Goes Our Love Again - White Lies Say My Name (feat. Zyra) -ODESZA, Zyra Flashed Drunk Mind - Milky Chance Young and Free - Sucre Sheep In Wolves Clothes - li le hurricane High Ball Stepper - Jack White White Lies - Max Frost

Fury Oh Fury - Nico Vega

Cardiac Arrest - Bad Suns

Mistaken For Strangers - The Na onal Come a Li le Closer - Cage The Elephant

Listen to the ADDICTED AFTER ALL playlist on Spo fy

Also nd individual character playlists on Spo fy

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER ONE

LOREN HALE

IN THE PITCH-BLACK OF NIGHT, I run as fast as rage will carry me. Gravel from the suburban road digs into my bare feet, February’s cold bi ng my esh. I had no me to slip on shoes, a shirt or even grab a coat.

“Motherfuckers,” Ryke growls through gri ed teeth, using his full power, endurance—everything that made him a collegiate track star—to chase a er dark-clothed gures that bolt down the street. I never thought I’d be able to match my brother’s speed. No longer weighed down by self-pity and hatred, I can go farther than I dreamed.

And I do.

My legs pump forward in sync with his, our muscles sharpening in the same way. Our veins burs ng and hea ng with blood-red fury. Because we thought these stupid fucking guys shot one of the girls through the window.

A minute ago, Ryke and I were upstairs and heard a few loud bangs, followed by Lily and Daisy’s panicked screams. As we rushed to the main

oor, Daisy was ghostly pale. Lily was holding her li le sister’s hand, and

my gaze dropped to Lil’s stomach, a no ceable bump at eighteen weeks pregnant.

I fucking ran on ins nct. Only this me, I’m not the one being chased.

Ryke was right by my side, no hesita on, no ques ons asked. He took one look at Daisy’s horror-stricken face, and he just lost it. Our fame and notoriety shouldn’t put either of the girls in harm’s way. It’s complete bullshit.

All six of us—Ryke, Daisy, Connor, Rose, Lily and me—now live in a rich, gated Philadelphia neighborhood. Only these so-called “gates” surround the neighborhood, not our eight-bedroom house. Some mes, the real shits are the ones right down the street, and for the past two weeks, they’ve egged our door, toilet-papered the yard and forked the grass.

This is the rst me we’ve heard them scamper away, and so this is the

rst me we’ve ever tried to catch them.

We gain on them, and their mu ed cursing becomes louder, their panic clearer in their hurried steps, and half of the guys sca er towards a brick mansion with oodlights illumina ng a massive door. About three guys con nue to sprint ahead.

Then they spin around and point their paintball guns at us. A series of pops split the air before a couple shots connect with my shoulder and ribs, like a two-second punch.

Jesus. I want to shout un l my throat bleeds and shake them un l they get it. Un l they realize that we’re not board games they can play with— when they’re si ng in their rooms with nothing to do.

We are people. Real. Living breathing things that have breaking points. I want to scream it all, but I can’t u er one single goddamn word. Everything is caged in my lungs.

The guys stop shoo ng at us when they realize we’re much closer. “Go, go, go!” they scream at each other. One guy in a hoodie glances over his shoulder, and then he trips over his own feet. Right as he stumbles, about to eat the asphalt, I grip the back of his black sweatshirt. My pulse sky-rockets with my adrenaline.

Ryke slows to a stop with me.

“Let me fucking go!” the guy shouts, thrashing in my grasp. I feel my heart bang against my chest, my brows furrowing at his scrawny build. He’s young.

In a ma er of seconds, his friends leave him, racing further into the darkness. He no ces his buddies sprin ng away, and he redirects his anger. “HEY! YOU PUSSIES! YOU’RE GOING TO LEAVE ME HERE?!”

I rip the paintball gun out of his hand and toss it to Ryke, and then the guy whips around on me, swinging his st haphazardly at my face. I easily dodge it, but he’s squirming so much that it’s hard to hold him upright without him slipping in my hands.

“Get a grip,” Ryke growls at him.

He tries to elbow my ribs, and I grasp his arm, adding with a sneer, “You’re the one who’s been fucking with us.”

“And you’re the cuntbag who’s called the cops like a li le bitch,” the guy snarls back. That’s when the hood falls o his head, and I stare directly into his venomous gaze. Tousled brown hair and a young, so face. He can’t be any older than seventeen.

My blood chills. And I crane my neck at Ryke. “Do you see any cops?” I ask him with a mocking tone.

“No,” Ryke says, his voice rough.

I turn back to the guy in my clutch. “See, it’s just you and us—”

“That’s great,” he cuts me o with a short laugh, “let’s have a fucking tea party and celebrate the new year. And then when I leave, you both can go fuck the same girl and knock her up again.”

I shake, my heart slamming into my ribs. A million di erent insults burn my brain, the malicious ones trying to take hold.

Then Ryke charges forward, sts clenched. “You motherfucking—”

“Stop,” I tell Ryke, making sure to wedge my body between him and the teen. He can’t hit him. Not even if this guy spouts o a thousand rumors that’ve been circula ng the tabloids. Not if he knows more about us than we’ll ever know about him. He’s a bored teenager, gh ng his own ba les that we’ll never see.

I get it.

I used to do this shit all the me. I was thrown in jail for vandalism more o en than for underage drinking.

“What?” the guy feigns confusion, provoking Ryke. “Are you bu hurt that you didn’t get extra me with the slut—”

“You want to play this goddamn game with me,” I interject, my voice so sharp that it physically pains me. “I can make you cry so hard, you bleed out of your eye sockets, so let’s rewind—you fucked with us rst, and all we’re asking is for you to stop. We’re not your prep school friends.” I’m trying not to be condescending. I could have easily said “we’re not your li le prep school friends, kid.” But if someone said that to me at sixteen, seventeen, or eighteen, I’d spit in their face and tell them to eat shit.

He breathes heavily with a curled lip, hatred spreading across his features, like he can’t stand to be here for more than a second longer. I stare right at him, not giving him an easy out. And he nally says, “We’re just joking around.”

Ryke steps forward and raises the paintball gun at the guy’s face. “This is not a fucking joke!”

The guy hu s and says to me, “Is your brother a moron? It’s only a paintball gun.”

Ryke throws the gun across the road, and the casing sha ers.

“Hey!” the guy shouts.

“My girlfriend has PTSD, you fucking idiot,” Ryke growls. “You point something that resembles a gun at a window, and there are people who’ll feel like it’s one.”

My ribs ghten. Daisy has been through more than Lily and I ever imagined, and it’s these facts—the ones that I desperately needed—that make it easier to see his happiness with her. I never thought I’d pray to every fucking god to ensure that their rela onship lasts. It’s not even a sel sh want.

I study the guy’s face, and any remorse is drowned by anger, his voice shaking with it. “Which girlfriend is that?” he sneers at Ryke. “The one you raped when she was een or your brother’s ancée?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Ryke yells, his nose aring. It fucking sucks. People will always know details about our lives before we even know their names. But I can’t blame him for it. It’s just the way it is.

I watch this teen glower at the ground like let me go, let me fucking go.

Not yet.

I grip his jaw and force his face to mine. “Great,” I say, “you can believe those goddamn lies, you can spread them, whatever—but we see you around our house, scaring our girls, we’ll do worse than call the cops.” I release him with this threat, le ng his own imagina on frighten him. “I’ve met shi er fucks than you, so don’t think you’re something special.”

His chest collapses as he breathes heavily, shoo ng me a glare that can no way match mine. And then he spins his back on us and sprints down the road, stumbling for a second before he regains his speed.

He shouts back, “Go suck cock, you pussies!” And he waves his middle

ngers at us.

Ryke lets out a frustrated groan. “I fucking hate these guys.”

“They’re just bored.” The neighborhood heard that “famous people” moved in down the block, and so these teenagers have been a racted to our house ever since. “We can’t call the cops,” I snap at him. “I hope you realize that.” For one, that guy in the hoodie could’ve been me at seventeen. And every me I was thrown in jail, it did nothing but piss me o even more. For another, it only gives them reason to retaliate against us. To return with more eggs, more paintballs, and maybe something worse down the road.

I’m smart enough now to recognize the pointlessness of this kind of feud and revenge.

Connor Cobalt taught me that.

My lips slowly rise.

Ryke groans again, puncturing my thoughts. “I wish there was an easy fucking solu on to this.”

“Yeah,” I nod. “Me too.” We start walking back down the dark street to our house. I try to loosen my tense shoulders by rota ng them. “Maybe the girls shouldn’t come to the mee ng tomorrow.” Remembering my father’s phone call this evening binds my muscles again. I rub the back of my neck, this familiar agita on festering. A er tonight, I’d like to fucking cancel on our dad. “I just don’t want him to drop more shit on top of us, not while we’re dealing with this.”

“I don’t want Daisy there anyway.” He extends his arms, and I can see spla ers of blue paint on his shoulder and chest with reddish welts. “Why the fuck is he dragging the girls into his issues to begin with? It should be just you and me.” He gestures from his lean body to mine.

“We don’t know what it’s about,” I remind Ryke. “All he said was that he wanted to talk to the four of us.” I lick my lips, my breath smoking the air. I try not to shiver in the cold, especially at the thought of how he le out Connor and Rose. Whatever our dad is up to—it only involves Ryke, Daisy, Lily and me. I’m hoping it’s not about the rumors in Celebrity Crush— that Lily might be pregnant with Ryke’s kid, not mine. I hate even entertaining those lies.

I try to let out another long breath, but I feel my face contort in an irritated scowl.

“With Jonathan, that could mean fucking anything,” Ryke retorts.

“Yeah, and take it from someone who’s been to these ‘impromptu mee ngs’—you have to be prepared for anything.” I remember the one where he basically forced my proposal with Lily, right in his o ce.

I refuse to believe this is worse than that. So maybe that’s why I’m not as freaked by it as Ryke. My brother revived his rela onship with our dad— and this is what comes with it. I step into the lion’s den every single me I enter Jonathan Hale’s mansion, and I just fucking pray that I leave without a deep wound. I pray that I’m strong enough to withstand everything he throws at me. And for the rst me, I believe that someone out there, some godforsaken thing or spirit or madman, is listening to a fuck up like me.

I slow my pace as soon as headlights point in our direc on. I raise my hand to shield the uorescence. Ryke grabs my bicep and guides me towards the curb so we’re not hit in the dark. I’m not surprised when the Escalade brakes beside us. The nted window rolls down, revealing the driver.

Connor Cobalt, twenty-six, has one hand on the wheel, dressed in a white bu on-down. His wavy brown hair is perfectly styled like he just returned from a business mee ng.

He didn’t, by the way. I know for a fact that he was in a third oor study with Rose, reading or thumbing through a dic onary—whatever they do in their spare me.

He can’t hide his blinding grin, the humor palpable in his gaze as he scru nizes our lack of wardrobe in the cold winter. Then his deep blue eyes meet my amber ones.

“Solici ng again?” he banters with an arched brow. “How much for a blow job, darling?”

“As much as you’re worth,” I reply, opening the passenger door.

“How about you, Ryke?” Connor asks as my brother climbs into the backseat.

“I’m not for fucking sale,” Ryke says roughly, slamming his door shut.

I give Connor a look. “It’s been a long night. What were you—reading?”

“Coming, actually,” Connor says, pu ng the car into gear and driving back towards our house.

“Fucking fantas c,” Ryke groans. “While we were freezing our asses o , chasing these idiots, you were ge ng o .”

Connor doesn’t even try to restrain his grin. “I’m the all-around winner here. It shouldn’t be surprising to anyone by now.” Neither is his arrogance. I actually smile and point the blowers at my body, the heat expelling.

Connor’s eyes it to the orange and blue spla ers on my ribs and shoulder. Like Ryke, red welts lie beneath the paint. His grin fades. “I don’t see how chasing them while they s ll had paintball guns was e ec ve.”

“It’s called in mida on,” I tell him.

“You mean stupidity.”

“Yeah? What’s the be er op on? Calling the police? We’re not doing that, Connor,” I remind him.

“I never said we should. The press would pick up the story, and it’d put more a en on on everyone.” He pauses. “You both realize that they could’ve accidentally shot you in the eye?”

“Fucking worth it,” Ryke says, crossing his arms over his chest.

I add, “If you saw the girls, you would’ve wanted us to run a er them, paintball guns or not.”

Connor trains his gaze back on the road. “I did see the girls.”

I frown as I scan his features. He’s closed up again, which makes me nervous. “Is Lily okay?” I clench my teeth in fear of the possibility that she may not be. My back s and my muscles tense. “Connor—”

“She’s ne.” He suddenly locks the car doors, and his eyes icker to the rearview mirror, at my older brother in the backseat, who grows more distressed. If Lily’s okay then that means— “Please don’t jump out of the car,” Connor tells him. “I’ve never injured anyone while driving, and I’d like to keep my record clean.”

His nose ares. “What’s wrong with Daisy?”

“She had a small panic a ack.”

Christ. I grimace, like knives slicing through my core, and it’s mostly from sensing my brother behind me. I rotate to look back at Ryke. He pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes ghtened shut. I can tell he’s swallowing a scream and restraining himself from punching the back of the seat.

“At least she’s not pregnant,” I throw out there. A silver lining.

Ryke drops his hand and cringes. His brown eyes rise to mine. “I fucking hate when people torment her.”

I know that now. “But if we move to another neighborhood it’s just going to be the same thing in a di erent se ng.” We bring a en on to ourselves wherever we are and that won’t change, not a er Lily’s sex addic on was publicized, not a er Princesses of Philly, and de nitely not a er the molesta on rumors with my father.

The reality is this: Lily is pregnant. Rose is pregnant. Daisy is hanging onto her sanity. And the media is as caus c as ever—spreading rumors, trying to snap photos of Lily and Rose’s bodies, and harassing Daisy about her rela onship with Ryke and his rela onship with my girlfriend.

I’m not the smartest one of us. Or the strongest. But I fucking know everyone has a breaking point. And some mes I wonder if our limits are going to be tested now that Ryke is with Daisy, now that I’m about to be a father, and Connor will have a child with Rose. These things stretch us further than before.

A misstep will feel fatal. Because it’s not just myself that I’m hur ng. It’s Lil. It’s our kid. There’s literally no room for mistakes anymore.

I wish I could be full of conceited op mism, but to be honest, everything just scares the shit out of me.

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

LILY CALLOWAY

I KNEEL on the cold le of Ryke and Daisy’s messy bathroom, rubbing my li le sister’s back as she pukes in the toilet. “We should TP their front yard,” I say with a nod. They deserve it, for all the stupid shit they’ve done to our house this past week and then jumping out of nowhere and frightening us with paintball guns.

“Or we should rip out their ball sacs. Slowly,” Rose says in a cold, threatening voice. She paces the bathroom with a Japanese paper fan, wa ing cool air on herself half the me and Daisy for the other. She stops every so o en to fold a crumpled towel on the oor or readjust the green bath mat. She’s already reorganized the shampoo bo les and put away Daisy’s tampons and hairbrush.

It’s very weird, but I think I’m the most composed of the three of us right now. Sex isn’t even on the brain yet. I internally smile. I make sure to

le the rare accomplishment with a few others.

“I’m not touching their…stu ,” I tell Rose, and just like that my face heats.

“Balls,” Rose emphasizes the word, shoo ng me a death glare on an epic scale. I blame her hormones on the intensity of those yellow-green eyes. They’re a lot scarier now. “Or tes cles if that makes them any be er for you.”

I shake my head over and over, my face ushing. I’ve already been dizzy all night, a pregnancy symptom, and the red rash is not helping my spinning head any. “That’s worse. And I don’t have a problem with them. I like balls.” I cringe. That sounds so bad. “I mean, I like them.” An image of Lo’s cock, hard and very erect, pops in my head, and my skin heats. No. No. No. I press my thighs ghter together.

Through Rose’s intense glare, I see glimmers of sisterly concern.

I’m like a tortoise, slow and steady. I’m not one-hundred percent able to talk about sex without ushing. I’m not sure if I ever will be that comfortable without feeling like someone’s going to hurl a dildo at my face.

That happened two weeks ago outside of Lucky’s Diner. Not fun. And I thought being pregnant would give me some sort of reprieve like: don’t throw sex toys at me and my unborn baby. Not so.

“Regardless of whether you like them or not, their balls need to go,” Rose says. She’s so pissed at these guys who keep pranking us. I am too, but I don’t have war maps and ba lements planned in my head.

Daisy slumps down from the toilet, nally done puking. I ush the toilet and then press a cool washcloth to her forehead while she takes deep breaths.

We’re all quiet for a minute, except for the ap ap of Rose’s paper fan as she beats the air at Daisy. I have these painful ashbacks of what happened, and I’m more shaken up about my sister’s reac on to the paintball guns than the actual guys.

She was polishing my toenails with a bo le of Lucky Lucky Lavender while I read pregnancy stories aloud from a “mommy-to-be” magazine. My back was to the window, but she looked up, pure dead-panic in her eyes, wide like saucers.

And that’s when the bangs went o . I saw the blue and orange paint on the window pane like neon bird crap, and we both sprung to our feet together, the nail polish spilling on the rug.

When Ryke and Lo ran down to us and out the door, Daisy mu ered something and then stumbled up the stairs. She was a ghost, her breath sharp as she choked for air. Like she was gasping on dry land. I helped her to her bathroom on the second oor and tried to calm her so she’d breathe normally.

This all lasted for maybe twenty minutes, and it’s only a er she vomited that she’s se ling, more at ease. Her white tank top with the words—kapow, baby—is soaked through from sweat. She’s not wearing a bra, which I understand. Neither am I. Free-boobing is the best. Plus, we’re both very ny up top.

“Can you talk?” I ask her, pulling a strand of blonde hair o her face. When she returned from Costa Rica with Ryke, she dyed the mul -colored strands back to blonde and then changed the ps of her hair to pastel mint-green. She’s too cool for me, and she’s my li le sister. I don’t even think she realizes the e ect she has on a lot of people. When she smiles, usually everyone does too.

Maybe that’s why Daisy’s sadness hurts so much. It’s like watching a Care Bear cry.

“I overreacted,” she says in a morose voice, tears pooling.

My stomach knots. “I was there, Daisy, it was scary.” I pull her closer to me so she’s not clinging to the toilet bowl, and I wrap my arm around her waist. She’s wearing Ryke’s blue and red Penn baseball cap backwards, and she rests her head redly on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, wiping her eyes quickly. “I’m just disappointed in…myself.” Her voice shakes.

I give Rose a look to not interject. She’s not the most comfor ng human being in the world. And she knows this. So she mouths, ne, to me and stays out of it.

“I almost peed myself,” I tell Daisy.

She laughs so ly and looks up at me.

“I’m serious. I know I peed at least a li le bit.”

“It’s because you’re pregnant,” Daisy says with a weak smile. “You can’t hold your bladder.”

“No, it was de nitely from fear. I’m not that pregnant yet.” Eighteen weeks and the baby bump is just no ceable. I’ve gained maybe ve pounds or less, and my doctor wants me to eat more since I’m “underweight.” I think gangly is a nicer word than underweight.

Rose is twenty weeks along and a lot more pregnant looking than me. She has a round bump in her black Calloway Couture dress that molds her body. She’s been designing more maternity kind of clothes—just for herself. Lo called her vain last week, and she swa ed him with her sketchbook.

I like that she’s making sure she feels comfortable. That’s important, especially when so many things are changing.

Daisy wipes the last of her tears with her sleeve, her other forearm wrapped in a bright yellow cast. No one was surprised that Costa Rica brought Daisy a bad compound fracture and a dislocated shoulder. When she has free reign of the wild, she goes hard.

I peel o the washcloth from her forehead.

“Thanks, Lily,” she whispers to me.

My heart swells. I recognize that my addic on (and all the nasty media a en on it brought) is the origin of her pain. But it’s not guilt that makes me want to be here for Daisy. It’s just purely out of love for my sister.

“Lily, your foot,” Rose says with a scrunched face.

I glance down. Lucky Lucky Lavender is spilt all over my toes, and my le nails are half painted.

Daisy says, “I’ll redo them.”

Rose fans herself. “You won’t have me. The minute Ryke barrels in here, he’ll want to hold you.” She rolls her eyes, but she adds, “It’s sort of cute.”

I picture that embrace leading to other sensual acts. But I don’t think about it too hard. I squirm a li le, clenching my thighs. “At least you’ll probably get laid tonight,” I say to Daisy and nudge her hip. That would be a de nite perk in my book. But not by Ryke Meadows. With Lo. Separately. I nod resolutely in my mind and avoid a dark red blush.

“I’m on my period,” Daisy says, her cheeks s ll pale. “So that’s out.”

We’re all quiet for a second, and I can’t hold it in. “Just have sex in the shower.” I’m surprising myself, more open than usual. Maybe all the sex talks I have with Ryke are subconsciously helping a li le bit. I can share some ps without needing a desk to hide under.

“We’ve never done it like that. It’d be weird,” she says.

My brows crinkle. “You’ve never done it in the shower?” Wait. I hold up my hands. “Ryke says he’s done it in the woods before. But he’s never done it in there?” I point at the glass doors of their giant shower with three di erent nozzles and spigots, plus fancy cobblestone wall- les.

Rose looks fascinated by this talk, her back straightened and eyes alert.

“We’ve done it there, just not on my period.” Daisy isn’t shy about her love life with Ryke, which I really like. It makes it easier talking to her about Lo. “Isn’t it gross?” she asks.

“It’s worth it…” I trail o . “Though I may not be the best source. I’ve been known to rank sex above food.”

Daisy laughs so ly. I’m glad I can joke about my addic on now. I even smile.

“How about a sleepover in the guest room?” Rose asks Daisy. “We’ll redo Lily’s toenails and sleep in the king-sized bed.”

“I’ll kick you,” Daisy suddenly says. “If we sleep in the same bed, I mean. I move a lot and could kick you in the womb or something and then you’ll both miscarry because of me.” She inhales sharply.

“Then you’re doing me a favor.”

“Rose!” I shout.

She rolls her eyes again, regret ashing in them. She’s not ltering anything lately. “It’s hot in here.” She fans herself some more, sweat beading her forehead.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Daisy suggests.

“I’ll sit down a er we’ve plo ed our retalia on and our plans tonight. They’re more important.” She likes to pretend her pregnancy has no side e ects on her, even though she was the one hit with bad morning sickness. I thankfully bypassed that.

“I vote sleepover and TPing.” I raise my hand in the air just as hurried footsteps sound and the door whooshes open.

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

LILY CALLOWAY

RYKE BOUNDS into his bathroom rst, followed quickly by Lo and then Connor. As they stand towering above us, a new tension strains the air, and I think we all feel our dynamic shi ing just a bit. It used to be Daisy and Ryke on the outside of the inner circle.

Now it’s guys versus girls.

We scru nize them while they do the same to us, measuring our wellbeing from afar. I no ce the red marks on Lo’s shoulder and ribs, splashed with blue and orange paint. Ryke has similar paintball imprints. It’s safe to assume they were shot. My stomach tosses. They were shot. That phrase—no. I don’t want to picture anything like that happening.

“I hope those guys look ten million mes worse than the two of you,” Rose says, slicing through the tension.

“They’re teenagers,” Lo says atly. They must’ve let them go.

“Perfect, we’ll just call their parents.”

The guys are quiet, and Ryke hasn’t taken his eyes o Daisy. I can tell that she’s embarrassed by what happened and the extra a en on that bears down on her. She li s her legs to her chest, shielding her boobs (and see-through shirt) from the guys. I watch her pick at the white inside of her cast, and then she sets her cheek back on my shoulder.

“Hello?” Rose snaps her ngers at them and then zeroes in on Connor, his hands in the pockets of his black slacks. “You.”

“We’re not ta ling, Rose.”

She glares. “Please. It’s not ta ling. It’s jus ce.”

“It’s both. Though the ta ling will undoubtedly outweigh the jus ce.”

Ryke and Lo approach us while Connor walks over to Rose by the sink.

“Dais…” Ryke whispers, squa ng down, eye-level with her. The concern in his face clenches my heart in di erent ways. I’ve always wanted my sister to nd someone that cares for her, so deeply, but I never thought that someone would be related to Loren Hale. I will always love that extra bond I share with Daisy, for however long her rela onship does last.

I’m roo ng for them to go on forever.

She li s her head up and nally meets his eyes. Tears spill o her lashes, cascading down the long scar on her cheek. “I…” Her chin trembles, and I have a suspicion she was about to say overreacted but stopped herself short.

Ryke sits in front of Daisy and spreads his legs around her, so when he draws her close, she ts right against his chest. It’s a tender, gentle embrace that I would’ve never expected from an aggressive guy like Ryke. But he has a so side when it comes to my li le sister.

She twists the baseball cap front-ways and lowers it, blocking her eyes from him and everyone else. Her body vibrates with heavier tears, and I’m not sure how to comfort her. She feels like she failed herself, upset that she had a panic a ack over paintball guns and caused a scene.

Ryke holds her ghtly, and her slender arms wrap around his bare chest. An impenetrable stone in a raging storm. That’s what Ryke Meadows has always been.

“Lily.” The sharp voice captures my a en on. Lo stands above me. His amber-eyed focus is all mine to obtain. His features are deathly beau ful, the severely cut cheekbones and smooth Irish skin. I think: his baby is in me. It’s such a weird thought.

But it sweeps me in an electric current, sparking each nerve and adding an extra beat to my heart.

“Hi,” I breathe shallowly, like this is the rst me I’ve ever seen him. My neck heats, no doubt with a vibrant red hue.

His lips rise in a gorgeous smile. “Lily,” he says my name again, huskily in a deep, sexual voice.

My body ngles. “Don’t do that,” I whisper-hiss, ushing more.

“Lily,” he repeats, subtly licking his bo om lip. Oh my God. I spring to my feet to pinch him or punch him in the ribs for teasing me with my name. Who does that? He didn’t even touch me yet. As soon as I land on my feet, the world spins one-hundred-and-eighty degrees. I teeter backwards as my vision blurs with black and white blinding spots.

“Lily.” Worry breaches his voice, but I feel his hands around my hips before I tumble and fall. He combs my short brown hair out of my face, and I blink a few mes, his features clearing past the dizzy haze.

“That’s…my least favorite Lily,” I say under my breath.

He exhales loudly. “Don’t stand up that quickly next me. Your blood pressure—”

“—is low,” I nish. “I know.” I’ve been taking lots of extra steps to ensure a healthy pregnancy: vitamins, ea ng less junk food, and reading books. But the more I try, the less I succeed. Rose leaves her doctor with an A-plus report and a pat on the back. I leave mine with a list of things to work on.

Lo said that they probably bribe the doctor to say nice things, just to one-up us. I doubt it. Though maybe the doctor is scared of Rose’s wrath. That is a likely possibility, especially since she went through four Ob/Gyn’s before choosing Dr. Freida Dhar.

My nger skims the blue paint on his ribs, the place so red beneath that I wonder if it’ll bruise. And I just hug Lo, my arms ying around his waist. The idea of a real bullet slicing through his skin nearly chokes the breath from my lungs. To lose Loren Hale is to lose my life. It’s these moments—of catastrophic change and brutal, ugly fatality—that I recognize how deeply I love him.

He lts my chin up with his ngers, reading my pained features well, and he whispers, “We’re okay.”

I nod. We’re okay. And then he kisses my lips, full of pressure and force that numbs my brain. Yes. I shut my eyes and dri with the burs ng sensa ons, his hand falling to the hem of my leggings. Yes. I feel so wet and ready for that image of his cock to become reality. But maybe now isn’t a good me?

I’m not sure.

And then he pulls away, my lips s ll warm from his touch. He mouths, later.

Later. I can do later. “What’s later?” I ask.

He just smiles.

His teasing is killing me. In a good-bad way. I cross my ankles, spin around to face my sisters, and lean against Lo’s chest. His hands se le on my hips, some of his ngers dipping below them hem of my leggings. He’s sneaky.

I catch myself rubbing my ass against his crotch, and I stop when his

nger ps dig into my skin like he’s trying not to be that aroused.

Later.

I can hear Ryke whispering quietly to Daisy, but I can’t make out any of the words.

Across from me, Rose pulls her silky brown hair in a pony while she speaks to Connor in French. And then her gaze dri s to mine and she goes quiet.

“Talking about us?” Lo asks her, and I can feel his bi er half-smile behind me.

Rose’s eyes narrow. “You’re spending too much me with my husband,” she says. Connor barely even balks at this, knowing exactly where she’s going. My brows pinch in confusion with Lo’s.

“Why is that?” Lo asks.

“You’ve acquired his narcissism. No, we were not talking about you.” She snaps her hairband in place. “Get over yourself.”

Lo’s face sharpens. “Hey, Rose,” he says. Oh no. “You want to know what karmic jus ce looks like? Your baby, ripping slowly through your vagina on its way out.” He ashes another dry smile, and I punch him in the arm. He barely even acknowledges the a ack. The get over yourself comment must have really eaten at him.

Rose straightens to a en on and shoots him two middle ngers. “Fuck. You. Times two.”

“I can count, thanks,” Lo says.

Connor is leaning against the sink counter with his arm hooked around Rose’s waist. His grin grows and grows the longer they go at it. That’s great for him, but I’m star ng to sweat profusely, scared their back-and-forth verbal ght will go down a bad, bad road. They’ve been there before, and it can easily happen again.

“They teach algebra in deten on?” she says with the lt of her head.

“Weak,” he replies back.

She purses her lips.

I glance down at Daisy, who’s s ll si ng on the oor with Ryke. He spins the blue baseball cap backwards on her head again, her tears dried. She rarely wears makeup like me, so she has no mascara streaks. Ryke leans in to kiss her, and she swi ly turns her head.

The bo om of my stomach drops at the rejec on.

Ryke is rigid and unmoving. And then Daisy says, “I threw up earlier…” Oh…Daisy. I cringe at how many moments she probably wishes she could alter and rewind. She rises to her feet and heads to the sink. Connor scoots over so she has room to brush her teeth.

Ryke stands and rubs his lips in thought as he wanders over to us. And then he whispers to me, “She threw up?”

I nod. “She was nauseous. She’s be er now, I think.”

“At least she gave you a warning,” Lo tells Ryke. “Lily would’ve just kissed me.”

I gape and then think about it for a second. “Yeah…maybe.” I probably would’ve forgo en that I threw up. I crinkle my nose. “Am I that gross?”

“No, love,” Lo says and then kisses the outside of my lips like the biggest tease. I just realize that Ryke has already le our side and gone to Daisy’s.

Rose clears her throat to rein everyone’s focus.

“Hairball?” Lo ques ons.

Rose ignores him by clasping her hands loudly together. “We were holding a vote before you three showed up. We want to payback these guys—”

“No,” Lo immediately says, surprising me so much that my mouth falls.

Rose crosses her arms, drawing more a en on to her breasts, which have grown considerably since her rst week of pregnancy. “I despise uninformed voters.”

“I get it,” Lo forces, taking a step forward and unlatching from me. “You want to scare them as badly as they scared your li le sister. But you retaliate, and you’re provoking them even more.”

I breathe deeply. This is a new Loren Hale. One that has learned from all of his mistakes. One that understands right and wrong and every gray, messy part in between.

It’s a be er Loren, the version of himself that he has been gh ng for all along. I’m so overwhelmed by his proclama on that I have to quickly wipe tears before they appear.

“This isn’t an autocracy.” Rose points her folded paper fan at him. “You can’t decide what the house is going to do.”

“If it’s a democracy,” Connor cuts in, “then why were you vo ng without us, Rose?” Good points.

“You weren’t here, Richard.” She spins to him. “Now that you are, you can have your vote.”

“A pity vote,” Connor says easily. “You’re giving me something you hate.”

Rose’s narrowed eyes actually so en at this blow. Her shoulders slacken for a second.

Daisy switches o the faucet, and I realize she’s already rinsed the toothpaste from her mouth. Ryke is holding her hand, which is really cute. I try to contain a burgeoning smile. One second, I’m near tears and now I’m almost beaming. My hormones need to take a water break and let me be at a content stasis, for once.

“I don’t think we should ght about this,” Daisy says so ly.

“We’re not,” almost everyone says in unison—everyone but Ryke who just rolls his eyes at us.

“It’s toilet paper,” I suddenly pipe in. “We’re reclaiming our…”

“Power,” Rose proclaims, raising her chin.

Ryke shakes his head. “There’s be er fucking ways to feel safe than retalia ng.” His eyes ping from me, to Rose, to Daisy, and then back to me.

I hesitate between siding with Lo, who I believe is right about not provoking our neighbors, or with my sisters, who need my support. “Daisy should decide,” I realize. I want to do what Daisy feels is best. She’s the one who’s frightened the most.

Daisy wavers uneasily, all eyes pinning to her. Ryke stands behind her, his arms wrapped around her chest so no one can see her nipples. That’s even cuter than the hand holding. I catch my expression in the mirror. Oh my God, my smile is so dopey looking.

“I…don’t want to upset anyone,” she nally says.

“You won’t,” Connor tells her. “Everyone has their own opinions, and we’ll respect yours. Though there is a right answer and a wrong answer here.”

Rose smacks his chest with the back of her hand. He catches it and kisses her palm.

“Can I have some me to think about it?” Daisy asks.

“Yes,” I say before Rose shoots her down. “It’s probably be er if you think about it rst.”

Surprisingly, Rose nods in agreement, though I bet she’s s ll plo ng revenge scenarios in her mind. I wish I had a voodoo doll or magic where I could enact non-lethal punishment from afar. Like Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Though her spells usually back red.

I hook my nger through the hem of Lo’s sweatpants, and I lock eyes with Daisy. “Sleepover?”

“What are you talking about?” Ryke asks.

Rose’s ngers are laced with Connor’s. “We were considering spending the night in one of the guest rooms, just us girls.”

Ryke’s features darken like an incoming thunderstorm. He obviously would rather her sleep with him, but maybe he’s afraid she’ll kick us too. And I wonder what he does at night to make her feel safe and whether she’ll even be able to fall asleep with us.

“Speak,” Rose snaps at him.

“If Daisy wants to have a sleepover with you two that’s fucking ne,” Ryke declares. “I’m not going to tell her what to do. All I want is what she wants.”

The corners of Rose’s lips curve upwards. “You are so much be er than Julian.”

Lo lets out a dry laugh. “Over half of the male popula on is be er than Daisy’s ex-boyfriend.”

“Don’t fucking remind me about him,” Ryke says.

Daisy clears her throat. “I do know what I want to do, about sleeping tonight.” Everyone focuses on her. She inhales strongly and says, “I think I should sleep in my own bed. I really don’t want to roll over onto one of you, and I’m afraid I’ll be so freaked about it…and other things that I won’t fall asleep.”

I nod understandingly, as does Rose.

“Thanks for telling us your feelings,” I say to Daisy with a smile.

She smiles back.

I would’ve liked either one she chose, but this one is a very good op on. I’m ge ng Loren Hale tonight.

My most favorite thing in the world.

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FOUR

LILY CALLOWAY

THE CHAMPAGNE-COLORED COMFORTER bunches at the bo om of the king-sized bed, and neither of us wastes energy to tug them up. A thin layer of sweat coats my body, and despite the faint exhaus on swirling around me, I crave a repeat.

My uctua ng hormones have not helped my cause. At all.

Lo lts his head on the dark red pillow beside me, lying on his back as his chest rises and falls in a heavy rhythm. Of all the places we’ve lived together, this room is the most spacious and suits our personali es the best. A black chandelier with candles (instead of glitzy diamonds) hangs above our bed. Two black armoires sit beside a comfy suede couch and dark purple chairs, red throw pillows and a champagne rug in addi on. It actually feels like home.

I squirm, clamping my thighs together, while I watch Lo’s breathing, and I ache to touch his abs.

He licks his lips and says, “Not good enough, I take it.”

“What?” I squeak out, my eyes wide. It was very good. Stellar. Worthy of rocket ships and trips to the moon.

Dimples dot his cheeks as he tries hard not to smile. “You have that look.”

“What look?” I turn to face him fully, my hip on the so ma ress.

“The one that says you want me to fuck you again,” he tells me, so casually. But it has a way of ligh ng up my core with newfound eagerness and desire.

“Oh…that look.” I try to clear my face. It barely works. I’m staring too hard at his lips, the so pink ones that beg to be kissed. “You know just because I may want to do it again, it doesn’t mean that the other me wasn’t good enough.”

“I know,” he breathes. “I’m just teasing you, Lil.” He draws me closer to his waist, and I think, maybe, his hand will descend to the very wet spot between my legs. Instead, his palm slides from my collar to my stomach.

I’m partly grateful that I’m not that big and round yet. Some posi ons will be harder during sex, and yeah, it’s a sel sh thought, one that I have been trying really hard to overcome. Because in about ve months, I’ll need to be completely sel ess—or at least have a somewhat controlled sex life.

“Have you felt anything yet?” he asks so ly, his ngers circling my belly.

I don’t know if he’s trying to distract me from sex or if this is a legi mate ques on. When he grabs the crumpled sheet by his ankles and pulls it over our waists, hiding his cock from view, I think it’s probably the former. But I answer anyway.

“No,” I whisper. “Not that I’m looking forward to it. It’s going to be weird.” I’ll like knowing my baby is alive and ac ve, but just the idea of something alive and moving inside of me has a certain creep factor. Remembering that the baby is a part of Lo lessens some of that.

“You’d tell me though, right?” he asks, his eyes i ng to mine. “I want to know when it happens for the rst me.”

It’s my turn to try and contain my smile. Lo has been suppor ve since he found out that I was pregnant. The fact that he never wanted children— that this baby was an unwelcome surprise rather than a joyous one—has been shelved somewhere else. Somewhere too far to ever reach again.

“I tell you everything,” I remind him. “Like how I dumped my gold sh crackers in a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream. Which was so good but so gross.” It’s my favorite snack.

“It was disgus ng,” Lo con rms. He props his elbow on the bed, his

ngers lightly brushing my hipbone.

I close my eyes, prac cally mel ng, and his hand dri s back up to my collar. So mean. When I open them again, I catch sight of the white envelope on the nightstand. “Maybe we shouldn’t wait.”

Lo follows my gaze and shakes his head. “Rose will kill you.”

He’s right. A few weeks ago, she was obsessively ea ng oranges while I dunked my gold sh in an ocean of ice cream. As she ripped the peel o , she said that she wanted to be present when I learned the sex of my baby.

She was in mida ngly scary, but I would’ve said yes, even if she was all smiles. So a er my ultrasound, we told the doctor to seal the news in an envelope. There it rests. I think I can wait un l the morning.

“What do you want?” I ask him a ques on that we’ve both dodged for some me. “A boy or a girl?” Deep down, I know my answer, even if I wish I could be neutral and long for a boy and a girl equally.

“It shouldn’t ma er,” he evades, his amber eyes searching mine, looking for my response to the same ques on. It’s okay. I can admit it rst.

I open my mouth to say the words, and they lodge in my throat, barred from exit by internal fears.

“Lily?” he murmurs, leaning over my small frame and combing the hair from my face. He’s halfway on my body, semi-cloaked in Loren Hale.

I tangle my legs with his. Be er.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he tells me.

I think I need to though. I’d rather let these things out. “If we have a girl…” I breathe so ly. “…there’s a good chance she’ll be ridiculed.” Her mom will be a sex addict. It’ll be like Daisy, pegged as one just for being my sister. I can imagine my daughter having a bumpier, rockier road. And Daisy’s is already horrible enough.

Lo nds my hands and intertwines our ngers together. My leg brushes his thigh, nearing his crotch, and my pulse speeds up a frac on. His hand lowers back to my hipbone, holding me s ll. And I relax in this posi on, the heat of his body warming me. It’s e ortless. Our normal.

“Maybe in the future people won’t judge girls di erently than guys,” he says.

“What do you mean?” I’m staring at his lips again, but I focus on his words.

He tucks a yaway piece of hair behind my ear. “When girls sleep around—maybe they won’t be called sluts and whores. Maybe they’ll be treated like guys. Then no one will care about your addic on, not enough to harass Luna.”

Luna. My heart palpitates at the name we chose if we have a girl.

The world he described seems imaginary. One made from c on. Not a future.

“Doub ul,” I whisper.

He stares down into me and says, “I’ll keep her safe.”

My eyes well with tears while my lips pull high. “Against the world, Loren Hale?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Against the world, Lily Calloway. I’m familiar with that ba le.”

I kiss him, li ing my head o the pillow to meet those pink lips.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding sensually against mine before drawing away. “So you want a boy then?” he asks, guring me out. I think I could raise a boy be er than a girl. I think he’d like me as a mom. At least, I hope so.

“Yeah,” I say in a whisper, searching Lo’s eyes now for his answer. “Do you want a boy?”

“If you want one, then yeah,” he nods.

I punch him lightly in the arm. “That’s not an answer,” I refute. “Stop placa ng me.”

His amber eyes narrow and he blinks a couple mes like I’m no longer Lily but some alien girl. “Since when do you use the word placate?”

“Since Connor gave me that thesaurus for Christmas.” Rose said it was a rude present, but he took the me to scribble notes in the margins. Like the word bastard, he wrote: the best looking one is in your arms. A literal truth. I run my hands along Lo’s shoulder muscles. “He highlighted all the cool words for me.”

Lo lets out a short laugh. “Connor’s de ni on of cool isn’t the same one you and I follow.”

“Oh.” That’s probably true too.

He grins, and then he takes my face in his hands and kisses me before I realize what’s happened. A surprise kiss. One that oozes my bones and rouses my soul. His lips suck gently on my bo om one, and his hand tangles in my brown hair. I moan into the next kiss, especially as his thumb rubs the so spot on my neck.

He smiles just before his tongue icks into my mouth.

My pelvis bucks up into his, and my legs spread on either side of him. Yes.

Breathless, he says, “That’s what placa ng you looks like.”

Oh.

I ush. “Can you do it again?” I wonder.

“You told me to stop,” he teases. “My wish is your command.”

I rap my st on his shoulder once more, but his smile only intensi es, really dimpling his cheeks this me. And then he suddenly says, “I want a girl.” His smile vanishes with his words. I want it to return.

“Why?” I whisper. I think I know.

“I don’t want our kid to turn out like me,” he says, the angles of his face more tortured looking than before. “Spiteful and bi er—a complete fucking asshole.” He shakes his head, his gaze dropping. “I want him to be like you.”

“A sex addict?” I frown.

“No, Lil,” he murmurs. “Kind-hearted, loving…introspec ve.”

“I’m not introspec ve.”

He kisses the outside of my lips. “Yes you are, love.” He’s only a breath away from me as he adds, “I just can’t make the same mistakes as my father did with me.”

“You’re not him,” I say so ly. Jonathan alienated one son and drove the other down a dark, dark path. Lo would never do that.

He kisses my temple and then slides out from under the sheet. “I’m going to take a shower.” As he climbs o the bed, buck naked, he gives me a look that says join me.

My face brightens, and I’m about to run into his arms when my phone pings. Lo’s phone vibrates on the nightstand too. He checks his screen while I check mine.

7:30 p.m. at my house on Wednesday. This is mandatory, so if

you’re considering cancelling, think again. – Jonathan

I look at who he group texted: Daisy, Ryke, Lo and me. He’s reminding us about the “mee ng” he’s called. “It looks like just a dinner,” I say, though my stomach ips.

“Yeah.” Lo’s voice isn’t as op mis c.

I’m trying to prepare for the worst—but at this point, I’m not even sure what the worst is anymore.

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER FIVE

LOREN HALE

HEAVY SLEET and snow con nes us indoors for the morning, but even though we can’t run outside, I stop by my brother’s room to see if he’ll workout with Connor and me. My muscles pull taut, my chest bound ght, and I need to release this tension before I open the envelope and especially before we meet with our father.

When I try to turn the doorknob, it clicks locked. I sigh agitatedly. I’ve already tried tex ng him, and he didn’t answer. Fuck it, I’m waking him up. I bang my st on the white wood and wait for a response.

A er a few seconds of hushed noises and footsteps, the door swings open. Ryke holds the frame with a rigid arm while I catch Daisy skir ng into her bathroom behind him.

“What?” Ryke asks curtly, only wearing drawstring pants. It’s not his lack of clothes or even Daisy sleeping with him that I have a problem with. Those facts I’ve accepted, no ma er how weird it is at mes.

It’s his apparent exhaus on that bothers me. Even beneath his hardened, dark glare, I can spot how red he is by his eyes. “Did you sleep last night?”

The shower squeaks through the wall. Ryke shakes his head and speaks quietly. “She was terri ed, and nothing I did helped…” He runs his ngers through his thick hair.

My older brother likes to insert himself in any situa on, to x it, so this is probably killing him. “She has to go to the mee ng Wednesday,” I remind him. “I know it fucking sucks, but we need to play by his rules.” I don’t want to nd out what happens if one of us cancels on our dad. And I also fear pushing him to drink. He’s been sober for this long—and he’s di erent now. Sure he’s s ll an asshole, not exactly so , but he lters a lot of his comments.

It’s easier to be around him.

Ryke pinches his eyes and then rubs them wearily. “I’m going to call Daisy’s therapist and hopefully she’ll see her before the mee ng.”

I listen to the shower water splash against the les, and a thought barrels into me, one that twists my face in a cringe. But I put it out there anyway. “Have you tried just having sex?” I ask.

Ryke glowers and his hand ghtens on the door frame like he’s going to slam it in my face.

I elaborate with an edged voice. “I’m not saying it’s a solu on, but she’ll be exhausted if you go at it long enough and then she’ll fall asleep.”

“Is that what you do with Lily?” he asks tensely.

I grind my teeth. He’s not spinning this back on me. “It’s one fucking

me, you asshole,” I tell him, “Daisy won’t be addicted to it. So go fuck her,

so she can shut o her brain and sleep.”

Ryke’s shoulders slacken. “She’s on her period, and she’s not excited about the idea of being fucked right now.”

Jesus Christ. I rub my mouth and try not to think hard about who we’re discussing. “She’s in the damn shower. Stop talking to me and go have sex. And when you’re done, I’ll be at the gym with Connor.” I start walking backwards as I talk. “Come with her, don’t come with us, and I’ll see you later.”

He ips me o , but I catch him nod as he shuts his door.

I descend the stairs and round into the kitchen—twice as large as the one in the Princeton house. The expensive silver appliances, granite countertops, gray walls, and leather bar stools are all thanks to some interior designer Rose hired. Every me I no ce the mansion décor, modern and classic and more adult than I am, I realize that I’m supposed to have my shit together.

That I’m no longer in my college years.

I’m twenty-four. Time to grow up.

I’m trying.

God, I’m trying.

By the marbled sink, Connor grabs a blue mug from a glass cabinet. “Morning, darling,” he says. He’s dressed in Nike athle c pants and a navy blue T-shirt, so I don’t have to ask if he’s s ll on for the gym.

I nod to him and rest my forearms on the cold counter. “Boy or girl?” I ask, the ques on already jailing my muscles in an uncomfortable vice. I decide to do sit-ups in the kitchen while I wait for him. I walk in front of the island and lie on the oorboards.

“Is this what I want or what I think Rose will have?” he ques ons.

“What you want.” I watch him pour his co ee, and then I rest my hands behind my head and use my core to rise to my bent legs.

Connor walks over and steps on the tops of my shoes, keeping me sta onary. He cups his mug. “I want many children, so I don’t really mind which one is rst, as long as there’s a second.”

It surprises me, and I freeze midway to my knees. “Why?” He’s arrogant, conceited—really self-absorbed, not in a bad way exactly. It’s just a fact. And none of those things say I want a big, loud family.

He grins into his sip of co ee, towering above me at six-four. “The challenge is worth the reward, and I’m ready for a new one.”

At least one of us is con dent. I scowl, my back touching the oor again.

“You’re going to do ne, Lo,” Connor assures me.

I want to believe him, but if anyone is good at placa ng people, it’s Connor. I can’t put faith in every word he says when I know it’s designed to calm me. I love it. I need it. But my past history says I’m more likely to fail than succeed. So I tell him, “We’ll see.”

Feet pa er against the oorboards, and I turn my head, rst no cing a hemp ankle bracelet. Long legs hidden beneath sweatpants—Ryke’s sweatpants—and a yellow cut-o top with the words: ower power.

What the hell. “Where’s your boyfriend?” I ask Daisy as she opens the fridge. There’s no way they had sex. He’d last longer than one minute with her. I s e a worse cringe. Don’t think about it.

“Huh?” She plays dumb, grabbing a Lightning Bolt! energy drink.

I rest my forearms on my knees, and Connor watches her closely, s ll drinking his co ee. She has dark rings beneath bloodshot eyes.

“You look like shit,” I tell her atly. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

She dips her baseball cap low, shrouding her gaze. That’s annoying. “Your dad won’t care how I look, right?”

I don’t know. “If you’re worried about it, you can put on makeup,” I say, my sharp tone cu ng my eardrums. “Lily won’t, so you don’t have to.” I exhale, and Connor steps o my shoes to re ll his co ee. Something tells me that we’re not going to make it to the gym today.

“Ryke’s right here.” She mo ons past me and takes a swig of her energy drink.

That’s when my brother rounds the island corner, entering the kitchen. He beelines straight for Daisy and snatches the baseball cap o her head, her damp blonde hair soaking her shirt.

“Hey, bro,” I say, not adding anything more since Daisy’s here. It’s normal for the three of us to talk about the girls and sex, but not when they’re around. And I have a pre y good feeling they do the same to us.

Ryke turns his head, and I give him a look like what the fuck happened? I thought he had a plan in mo on.

“She’s not Lily,” he suddenly tells me.

My eyes narrow, my blood hea ng. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Yeah?” Daisy asks Ryke with a frown.

Ryke lets out a frustrated groan. “Just drop it.”

“No,” I snap. Now my mind is reeling. “You started it. You nish it.”

“Words to live by,” Connor smiles. He’s completely at ease with no informa on about this argument, but maybe he has everything he needs by observing us.

“All I fucking meant,” Ryke says, extending his arms, “is that Lily will do almost anything in bed.” The fact that he talks to Lily about sex o en s ll unnerves me. “Daisy won’t, and I’m not going to force her to have sex when she doesn’t want it.”

Daisy’s mouth has dropped, her face reddening in embarrassment. She glances quickly at Connor and blushes even more. “This is not happening,” she mu ers.

“It’s happening,” I tell her with a sardonic smile.

“Don’t be a fucking dick,” Ryke snaps, trying to close the subject now.

I could wait to ask Lily about whether or not Daisy has used sex to fall asleep—therefore not being a “fucking dick.” Or I could wait to ask Ryke a er Daisy leaves. But frankly, that sounds like too much work. Plus, Ryke frequently talks to my girlfriend about sex, so guess what? This is how it feels. “Daisy,” I call to her, stretching my leg while I sit on the oor.

Ryke shoots me a look. “Lo, fuck o .”

I ignore him while Daisy acknowledges me. And I ask point-blank, “Have you ever tried to sleep by having sex?” It takes more e ort to keep a straight-face, not cringing, than it does to say the words.

“You don’t have to answer him,” Ryke tells her. And he mouths to me, shut the fuck up. Too late for that.

Her face stays red. “Not on purpose, no…” She opens her mouth to add more but she hesitates.

“Don’t be afraid to hurt my feelings,” I tell her. “I can take it.” That’s why she always holds back—why everyone walks on eggshells around Lily and me. Afraid they’ll fracture us like we’re glass dolls. I’m past that. All the damage has been done. You can’t break something that’s already broken.

“…I didn’t want to use sex like that.” She adds quickly, “Not to say that what you do with Lily is wrong, I just…” She lets out a breath. “Maybe I should try…”

“No, you don’t want to,” Ryke interjects.

“But Lo says—”

“Lo, I’m going to fucking kill you,” Ryke growls at me, his glare murderous. “You don’t have all the fucking answers.”

I raise my hands. “Calm down, Chewbacca, it was just a sugges on.” I nod to Daisy. “He’s right. You obviously don’t want to do it, so don’t do it.”

“Don’t do what?” Lily suddenly plops down on my crotch, straddling my lap. Her hands lie at on my chest. She puts her face really close to mine and whispers, “Why are you on the oor?” Her cheeks are glowing with this euphoric happiness that causes me to smile almost immediately.

She’s wearing long johns and her white fuzzy Wampa hat, and I’m swept in a ashback: she was seventeen, standing outside my childhood house in those same camping underwear. Just as adorable as she is now.

My nose brushes hers in a feather-light touch, and I hear her breath sharpen. My lips to her ear, I murmur, “I was prepared for you to straddle me.”

She shoves my chest playfully and I laugh, grasping her hips so she realizes that I want her right here, not any further away. Not a foot or a yard. She subconsciously digs her pelvis into me, and I swallow a groan as the pressure builds in my cock. I’m used to it.

I’m even used to the red ush that grows from her neck to her forehead. She catches herself mid-grind and freezes. I tug on her Wampa ear- aps while she no ces everyone staring.

“Hi,” she says. “…what’d I interrupt?”

“Nothing,” Daisy says quickly.

“That’s not suspicious,” Connor announces as though he expected be er from her. Like she’s a goddamn master of decep on. I mean, she hid a lot from us, but she’s not that good.

Lily’s gaze darts from Ryke to Connor to me. “You guys aren’t ganging up on her are you?” She pauses with a sharp inhale. “I mean not like that!”

I wince, suddenly realizing that she took “gang” to a sexual level.

“Lily,” Ryke groans, his hands on his head in distress. He looks how I feel. Connor is s ll complacent. I wish I could be like that, but my mind needs scrubbed.

“Sorry!” she shouts, covering her eyes. “I thought everyone was thinking it.” She peeks out at me. “You were thinking it, right?”

“Sure,” I lie.

She moans into her hands, catching my dry tone easily.

“Lily, it’s okay,” Daisy says. “No big deal.”

Lily blows out a long breath, and I massage her shoulders. Then a pair of heels clicks across the oorboards. Here we go.

“Is everyone ready?” Rose asks, an envelope between her ngers.

“I thought we were wai ng ll the a ernoon?” I say.

“Everyone’s together right now.” She actually withholds a spiteful retort. And it’s clear how nervous she is, the fear ickering in her yellow-green eyes. Connor must sense it too because he instantly draws her to his chest and grips her waist rmly. Her black dress shows o her baby bump, which is much bigger than Lily’s small one.

It scares me.

I know every girl’s body is di erent—but some mes I wonder whether Lily may lose our baby, just in comparison to Rose’s size. And that frightens me even more…that I’d fear losing something that I never wanted to begin with.

These feelings are crazy. I get to experience every fucked up emo on without a crutch. No Maker’s Mark. No Macallan or Jameson.

I think I’m okay with that. Even when it hurts.

Lily unfurls her crumpled envelope, and my back straightens, leaning against the lower cupboards, Lil s ll on my lap.

“Are you going rst?” Lily asks her sister, craning her neck over her shoulder.

Rose shakes her head, her collarbones protruding as she holds in a breath. “No, you go.” Connor speaks in French, not caring that Ryke can eavesdrop, and Rose replies in a hushed voice.

“Should I get my camera?” Daisy asks with a bright smile. It almost distracts me from the dark circles under her eyes.

“Use your phone,” Lily says, her hands shaking with nerves. “But don’t post anything on Instagram.”

Daisy mock gasps. “I already did.”

“Ha ha,” I say dryly.

Ryke looks like he could fuck her against the cupboards, an expression I don’t like catching from him. And then Daisy struggles to hop on the high counter with one good hand, the other in a cast.

Without hesita on, Ryke easily li s her up. She swings her legs and holds out her smart phone. Instead of a photo, she begins recording us. Even narra ng, “It’s Saturday, February 7 th. Lily Calloway is about to nd out the sex of her baby. Will it be a boy or a girl? Predic ons?” Her phone whips to Ryke.

“Girl,” he deadpans.

“One smile,” Daisy says.

His lips barely rise.

“Pathe c,” I tell him. “You can’t even smile for my future kid.”

“Yeah, Uncle Ryke,” Daisy jokes.

Ryke gives her a hard look. “Don’t say that again.” And then he actually smiles, not a full-blown one with teeth, but it’s good enough. This video recording actually lessens the tension in my muscles.

Lily even perks up with more excitement, her worries u ering somewhere else. Thanks, Daisy.

“What’s your predic on, Connor and Rose?” She points the camera-phone at the couple by the co ee pot.

Rose s ens, “Girl.”

“Boy,” Connor says, se ng his mug on the counter.

Rose rotates to face him. “You have to disagree with me?”

“I don’t have to.” He pauses to grin. “Though I like to.”

Rose is suddenly quiet, and his hand slips beneath her hair and he kisses her forehead.

Then Daisy whips her phone lens at us. “Lily and Lo, predic ons?”

Lily’s green eyes icker up to mine, and they tumble with so many fears and hesita ons that I wish we were alone. In this solitary moment. So I could hold her. Shut out the rest of the world.

Just us.

No more noise.

“A girl,” Lily breathes. It’s not what she wants. It’s what I want, but it’s going to hurt either way.

“Boy,” I whisper.

Her chest collapses, and she shakes her head at me like it won’t be a boy. It may be. Half of me will be happy for Lily. The other half will be scared shitless again. The parts of me that I love the most are the parts that belong to her.

“Hurry up,” Rose says, her voice abnormally high-pitched. I cringe. She’s nothing short of petri ed because she’s going next. And no ma er how much Rose aggravates me on a daily basis, I’m not a fan of watching her like this

Connor whispers quickly in her ear, and I no ce how she rubs her hands anxiously. He clutches one so she stops making her skin raw.

“You open it,” Lily whispers to me, rerou ng my a en on. She pushes the envelope in my hands.

My stomach ghtens, but somehow, I force my joints to work. I tear the seal and unfold the white paper. My pulse races like I’m about to jump o a building and make a speech in front of a packed stadium. I can barely read the typed le ers at rst. They blur together, and it takes a few extended seconds to piece them apart.

She studies my expression for a long moment and says, “It’s a boy.”

I am ooded with temperatures below zero, and I pass the paper to her, so she can verify what she already knows is real.

Her eyes travel eagerly over the words and then she delicately folds the paper.

“You can smile, Lil.” Please smile.

A tear rolls down her cheek.

No. I lean forward and cup her face in my hands. “Lily. I’m happy.” Somewhere. In all the good places that belong to her. There, I know I am.

Her lips are chapped as she licks them, and she glances back at the paper to rea rm that we’re really having a boy.

I wipe her tears that fall. “Say something,” I breathe. Smile, Lil.

“I’m…really, really happy.” Her voice trembles. And then she laughs into a smile, one that’s half-pained. For me. On the precipice of two polar opposite emo ons.

“It’s be er this way, with a boy,” I whisper, her glassy eyes i ng between me and the paper. “You have to believe that I believe it.” All I want is to sense her joy and rid the tar that’s seeped from me to her. I ruin most things I touch, and she’s the best thing I have le .

She nods repeatedly, trying to accept this as truth, and then I kiss her, despera on drowning my veins, my bones, my very fractured soul. A noise ripples through her throat. She clutches to me the way that I do to her— our bodies promising things that our words can’t.

I inhale sharply into a deeper embrace, my tongue tangling with hers. Her chest merges with mine, my hands disappearing in her short hair beneath her hat.

There are moments with Lily where I feel like we’re one person. Where we share every sensa on that bites our skin.

No one is in the kitchen but us.

And yet, they are. I become aware of this fact the moment Rose shouts something loud in French.

Lily and I abruptly part.

Rose is poin ng at us while she yells, and Connor is quick to shout back, the seriousness of the conversa on illuminated the moment Connor grips her wrists, clutching her so she stops ailing around.

Lily and I rise quickly to our feet. “What’s going on?” Lily asks the only person who would know besides the couple gh ng.

Ryke has a hand on Daisy’s thigh while he watches Rose, his brows hardened. “She’s saying that she can’t do it,” he translates. Daisy clicks o her phone and sets her camera aside.

“Do what?” I frown. She can’t be that scared to have a boy.

“See the gender,” Ryke clari es. “Connor is telling her that she needs to stop ac ng like it’s not happening.”

Lily’s mouth falls and her head whips between her sister and Ryke. “And?” she prods. Having a translator is nice, which begs the ques on…

“Why haven’t you done this before?” I snap.

His hand rises on Daisy’s thigh, who swings her legs that dangle o the counter. “Because it hasn’t been fucking important before now. You don’t want to hear the things they say to each other on a daily basis. Fucking trust me.”

Yeah, I do.

Lily rocks forward on her feet. “What did Rose say?”

Ryke listens for a second. “That it doesn’t ma er if they nd out the gender now or when the baby is born.”

Connor breathes heavily, more emo ons coursing through his features: anger, concern, determina on—things that he usually conceals. He speaks again. In French. They’re in their own world. Kind of like the one Lily and I were just in. Blocking out our surroundings for one serious moment.

Ryke con nues to translate, “He says, don’t you want to prepare in any way that you can?”

Rose jerks in his grasp and snaps back.

“She says, I can’t prepare for a baby, no ma er how much I read and study. I’ll never be ready.” A weight drops in the room with that truth. It’s a fear I think we all share, but Rose has never liked kids, so it’s di erent for her, maybe. I don’t know. I shake my head. It goes beyond having a boy, having a girl—it’s just having a child at all.

Ryke sighs like this transla ng thing is frustra ng him. “I can’t hear Connor.” Because he’s whispering in Rose’s ear.

And then Rose tries to untangle out of her husband’s strong grasp again. “Let me go, Richard,” she says, nally switching to English.

“Rose,” he forces her name, his voice so cold that the hairs on my arms rise.

“Connor,” she says just as icily. “Stop.” Her yellow-green eyes assault him.

He releases her arms, and I no ce the white envelope clenched in her

st.

“We’re having a girl,” she states like it’s a fact. It’s de nitely not one. And then she starts opening and closing kitchen drawers, searching for something.

“Rose,” Connor says again, his tone more even and temperate. “It’s okay. Just stop and breathe for a second.” She’s tuning him out. “Rose.”

I shake my head as I watch Rose slam the fourth drawer shut. “She’s lost it.”

“Shut up, Loren!” Rose shouts.

I inch. I honestly didn’t think she was listening to me either. And then in the h drawer, she nds a packet of matches.

“Rose!” Daisy and Lily scream in unison, but Connor is beside his wife before her sisters can swarm her. She’s already lit a match and holds it to the paper.

The ame eats the document quickly, and Connor steals it out of her hand and tosses it in the sink. He holds her from behind, his arms wrapped

ghtly around her waist, and as he murmurs in her ear, her rigid body

starts to uncoil, like he’s expelling every vola le, toxic emo on and leaving her bare.

My face is stuck in a permanent cringe again. Her breakdowns happen more o en since her pregnancy.

Connor spins her around and then presses her head into his shoulder. His eyes it up to mine and I read them well enough. He needs privacy.

Daisy hops o the counter, and she leaves to the living room with Ryke. Lily and I follow close behind, my hand in hers. There’s no way anyone is

nding out the sex of Rose’s baby. We’re not going to know un l the day he

or she is born.

When we’re out of earshot from the kitchen, Daisy walks backwards and she says, “Maximo Hale. He’s going to have the coolest parents alive.” She holds her st out to Lily, who actually smiles brightly now. It falters only a li le when she glances at me—to make sure it’s okay.

I hate that she worries about upse ng me. For smiling. I nod to her and try to relax.

Lily st-bumps her sister.

Then Daisy raises her st to me with a sunny expression that makes my life seem be er than it is. I look up at my brother who meets my eyes. I get it. Why he loves her.

She’s a light in a dark place. Even when she’s going through deep shit too. Daisy and Ryke are the de ni on of sel ess. In comparison, I’m the monster, the asshole, the villain. But in Lily Calloway’s eyes I’m the hero.

That has to count for something.

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SIX

LOREN HALE

MY BEST FRIEND, my girlfriend, my someday wife is insa able.

I’m drenched in sweat, my hair slick while I push inside of Lily, my hands gripping her wrists above her head on our ma ress. I kiss her deeply and rock my pelvis harder. She tears away from my lips to cry out, her mouth permanently open, gasping. I watch her eyes shut, her limbs trembling for release, and my body lights on re. My cock screams to come.

Right now.

I ignore its demand. With shallow breaths and a groan aching my throat, I thrust rhythmically against Lil and try to make this good enough for her. I let go of her wrist to reach down between our bodies, my ngers brushing her swollen clit.

She loses it, her back arching, her pelvis digging right into mine. “Lo!” she screams.

Don’t come, I force myself in my head. Even as I feel her pulse around my dick as she hits a climax. I don’t want to peak. Not yet.

S ll hard and full inside Lil, I keep moving, and her free hand massages her tender breast, her chest much larger since her pregnancy. I lightly push her hand aside and pinch her erect nipple with my ngers. She buries her cheek into the pillow. “Yes,” I hear her breathe.

Christ. I’m going to come soon. I press my lips to her temple. I hit a spot that blinds me for a second, and I grunt, “Lil.”

She whimpers, her legs vibra ng around my waist.

My body is welded against hers. No separa on between us. At fourteen, we had sex together and it felt wrong, even if I begged for it to be right.

Ten years later, I t inside of her like we’ve never been apart. And maybe it’s s ll not the “right” that every other couple has—but this isn’t a wrong kind of love. It’s just the kind that belongs to us.

I push hard, and I come, my nerves ring and my skin blazing. I keep her full while my chest falls and rises for air. She stretches her arms across my shoulders and squeezes her thighs ghter around my waist. I’m almost rock hard again. I s e a groan and study her expression. The only

exhaus on lies in her eyelids that sag. Just slightly.

“Again,” she whispers, trying to thrust up against me with what energy she has le .

Pregnant Lily is the horniest Lily I’ve ever encountered. She was hard to please before. But I always managed to. Now it’s literally impossible.

I roll onto my side while she’s s ll tucked against me. I don’t pull out. I comb her damp hair away from her face, and she eyes my lips like they’re calling out to her. And then she kisses me hungrily, rocking her hips while we lie on our sides together. The sheets are bunched at the foot of the bed, the comforter hanging o . The dim lights illuminate her features perfectly for me, and every inch of her skin is just ooded with arousal that I can’t squash.

“Lil,” I breathe, breaking the kiss to whisper in her ear. “Shhh.”

“Just one more…” she says, one of her hands dips down like she’s going to touch herself to get o if I don’t help.

I seize her wrist again and pull her arm to my shoulder, forcing her clutch there. “Look at me, love.”

She lts her head, but her eyes pin to my lips.

“Higher,” I say. I recognize that my body for Lily is the equivalent of me being tucked in bed with a bo le of bourbon.

Her green irises nally it up to my amber ones, her lips parted in need. She subconsciously rocks forward, especially as she trails my jawline.

I place a rm hand on her hip, and I have to shut my eyes not to harden all the way. When I open them, she’s staring at me, not my lips or body. Good job, Lil. I lean closer so that my arm is behind her head, nestling her to me.

“Once more,” she says with wide eyes. “I promise it’ll be the last me. Cross my heart.”

I hate rejec ng her, especially when her hormones are fucking with her body. “My cock belongs to you, but you can’t fuck it all night, Lil.” I might as well be her personal sex toy, which honestly, I would have no problem with if she wasn’t addicted to sex.

She ushes, and her breath shallows. I watch her gaze descend to my sha , the rest of me disappeared between her legs, one thigh draped over my waist.

She starts, “I can blow—”

“No, listen to me, Lil,” I say forcefully. “We’re going to sleep, and later…” I check the clock. 3 a.m. “…in the morning, we’ll have sex again. But you have to wait.” I’m not even going to fantasize that she can last twenty-four hours without another climax.

“Okay,” she breathes, and I go to pull out. But she grips my biceps, her

ngers digging deep. “Waitwaitwait.”

I hesitate and then ease back into her.

Her big green eyes look up at me. “I just…want you inside of me.”

My skin heats at her words. I’d love to stay inside of her, but… “You can’t move.”

“I won’t!” she says, her chest li ing in eagerness. “I’ll be really s ll, I promise.”

Any giddy promises that she makes during sex are adorable—but completely unreliable. I skim the length of her body for a second, her skin beaded with sweat, her lankiness and bony hips actually healthy, feminine and delicate.

“Let me try,” she pleads.

And this does it for me. I won’t steal an accomplishment from her, even if I think it’ll end in defeat. “You can try, love.” I kiss right outside of her lips, as a small test. She restrains herself from kissing me more, but I feel her pulse around my dick, a sensa on that almost causes me to grow inside of her.

I let out a deep breath, and train my body to cooperate with me. For her. I can’t be hard, or else she’ll start thrus ng and I won’t be able to control my wants either.

“Close your eyes,” I remind her. “Sleep.”

With her cheek on the pillow, she nally shuts her eyes. “I s ll see you in my sleep,” she says, her lips rising in a smile.

I’m smiling too. “Try to imagine an ugly version of me.”

“No,” she says with this adorable pout.

I kiss her quickly on the lips, my palm pressed to the small of her back, above her ass. I’m familiar with every inch of her body, and that knowledge likes to grip my sha harder than Lily’s best hand job. I whisper in her ear, “Dream of a mutant war with dozens of superpowers at work and even more casual es.” It’s the least sexy thing I can think of right now.

Her shoulders relax, and she exhales strongly.

Exhaus on starts to unwind my muscles. But concern for her binds them back again. I want to make sure she falls asleep before I do.

Mere minutes pass before she bucks up into me. Goddammit. The pressure causes me to harden, and she lets out the most breathless, pleasured cry. I almost come in seconds.

“Lil,” I chas se while her eyes snap open. “What happened?”

She grips my shoulder. “I pictured…” Her cheeks roast. “…Hellion screwing X-23. It’snotmyfault!” she slurs. “They were a part of the mutant war that you said I should imagine.”

“No more mutants for you, love.”

“Nonono,” she says quickly. “I can handle them. And you. And your…” Her eyes drop to our pelvises. Her legs and arms tremble, willing herself not to move. Right now I just want to grind deep against her un l I ll her full of my cum.

But we’re straddling a bad line.

“You’re going to move, right?” she whispers. “Please, Lo. You’re hard, and it feels…” she bucks up again.

Jesus Christ. My nerves light up. “Easy…easy,” I whisper. I rest my forehead on hers and take a long breath. “What’d you imagine?” I run my hand up her belly to her breast, and I rub her nipple with my thumb.

“Hmm?”

“With Hellion and Laura?” I ask, bringing up my favorite X-Men couple.

“His hardness…between my legs…I mean her legs,” she says so ly. “Please…”

I dip my head down and ick her nipple with my tongue, and she hits another high that rolls her eyes, her mouth frozen open. I clutch her ass and push her up, much harder into me while she contracts around my cock. God.

Dammit.

Even though my mind bursts with my veins, I somehow don’t come with her. Force of habit. I held back.

“Again,” she breathes.

Insa able.

No ma er how many mes we fuck, she will keep saying again.

“Later,” I tell her.

“You’re hard,” she notes, her eyes on my lips for the thousandth me.

“Ignore my cock, Lily Calloway.”

She gawks. “Never.”

I shouldn’t smile, but I do. “Guess what, Lil?”

“What?” Her eyes light.

“I’m going to fuck you slowly, and then I’m going to stay right inside of you. You come again a er that, and I pull out.” I literally cannot handle Lily contrac ng and pulsing and clenching against my cock. The intensity and pressure is too much for me.

Her brows pinch. “That’s not very nice.”

I lean close, my lips a breath from hers. “You must be the last one to hear then…I’m very…very…mean.” I kiss her so strongly that her head rises o the pillow when I draw back, inhaling her body.

Then I grind right against her. She’s so ght around me that I can hardly pull my sha back and ram in. I just dig forward, now on top of her instead of side-to-side, and I taste her with my tongue, my lips s nging and swelling above hers. The whole bed rocks with my movement, the wooden posts thudding into the wall.

She’s small beneath me, like a ravenous ny girl, aching for carnal things. I’m aware that she’s carrying our child, and it only heightens the sensa ons that heat me.

Two more thrusts and Lily moans into the pillow again.

I rest my forearm on the bed, an edged noise slicing my throat. I hold s ll in her warmth, pooling my mind with exhaus on. We’re both caked with sweat, our hair doused like we’ve been running a marathon.

We’re back on our sides, and I inspect her features.

Even if she doesn’t say it, her eyes do. Again.

No.

This has to be it. I kiss her lips lightly. “No more.”

She nods, understanding, but her limbs quake like they long for another round. “I’ll go to sleep this me. I promise.” She nods determinedly.

My lips brush her temple, and I stroke her damp hair.

It’s going to be a long night.

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER SEVEN

LILY CALLOWAY

MY ORGASMS ARE out of this world amazing.

Which is the best and worst thing. I just want more and more. “I think it’s like you tas ng the most delicious whiskey ever,” I tell Lo while he pulls me onto my feet, the morning a er we’ve fooled around for a long, long

me with naps in between.

I’m sore all over, and I can barely even shu e forward without feeling an ache in my joints and my sweet spot.

I won’t let my mind believe this is a regression, not when it’s a symptom of pregnancy: great orgasms and higher libido. What’s not normal: the uncontrollable, compulsive beast inside of me. But the Lily beast is at bay, hiberna ng in a cozy cave. I’m sure of it. She’s not ever supposed to come out again. She’s very aware of this.

In black boxer-briefs, Lo’s amber eyes descend from my head to my toes. I stand completely naked, my skin reddening the more he grazes me with his sight. “Are you drunk o me, love?” he asks, those intoxica ng eyes i ng back to mine.

Maybe. “Just not addicted.” My metaphor was a bad one, I realize.

“Good.” He tugs me to him and playfully bites my neck. “You bath. Me shower.” And then he kisses my nose.

I frown. “Why can’t we both take a bath or shower together?”

He suddenly li s me in his arms, a cradle. “Because,” he says with a playful tone while he walks, “boys and girls don’t bathe together. Everyone knows this, Lil.”

“We broke that rule a long me ago,” I men on. He sets my bu on the cold edge of the white marbled tub, and he turns the silver handles to the bath.

He tests the temperature. “Did we?” he feigns confusion and stares at the ceiling. “I don’t remember bathing with a Lily Calloway.” He glances back down at me. “What does she look like?”

How do I even describe my features? “Brown hair…” I have a hard me concentra ng when Lo’s gaze drops to my breasts that have grown much larger in the past weeks. “Really ny boobs, a bony bu —”

“You mean the most adorable ass, the cutest boobs and the pre est brown hair?” He mockingly gasps and says, “I do know her.” He snaps his

ngers. “She does this thing…” He lets out a trained, playful laugh.

I smile. “What thing?”

“You wouldn’t understand. It’s between me and her, an inside…” He trails o as he looks back at me, his face sharpening a li le. “Put your feet in the bath, love.”

I realize that I’m straddling the edge of the tub. Oh my God. Am I grinding? I lick my dry lips and set my soles into the warm water. To erase this horrible awkwardness that I’ve caused, I just say, “I understand inside things,” I say. “Not in like a perverted way.” Oh my God.

I climb into the half-full tub so I can drown beneath the water and never surface. As soon as I plop down, Lo must sense my plan because he laces his ngers with mine, holding me upright. I reach for the bath foam ball in a basket of beauty products that Rose set out for me.

“She does this thing…” Lo con nues, his voice lighter. “…with her nose.”

I frown. “What?”

“There it is,” Lo smiles. And then he pretends to be shocked. “Jesus Christ, you’re her!”

I splash water at him but it hits the side of the tub pathe cally, not high enough. “What do I do?”

“You crinkle your nose,” he tells me, “when you’re thinking hard or when you’re confused.”

My mouth falls. No. “I have the ‘who farted face?’ All the me?” I groan and sink into the water. It’s betrayed me, barely rising to cover my breasts. Spigot, work faster! I need a water shield to hide under.

“It’s painfully adorable,” Lo assures me. He rises to his feet and then drops his boxer-briefs. “Eyes up here, Lil.”

Sure. I focus my gaze on his face and not his beau ful package down below. I expect him to share the water with me, but instead, he heads to the shower. “Don’t forget to wash your pre y hair.”

“You’re s ll not going to share a bath with me?”

“Not this morning.”

“I promise I won’t touch you,” I say, feeling good about this proclama on. I can withstand Loren Hale. I know I can.

“It’s more than temp ng. Trust me, Lil.” He opens the glass door and disappears inside the led shower. Once the water gushes, I can’t hear him any longer.

Am I that bad that he can’t take a bath with me?

I drop my hands in the water and clench my thighs together, the soreness s ll present. I crave touch, I do. A part of me wonders if I can clean with a washcloth down there without rubbing my clit.

I can. I nd a purple washcloth and do a quick li le rub and then toss it aside, not allowing myself to go further. See, I’m not that bad.

I lower into the water as it rises, and a er I dunk my head and scrub some shampoo, I relax a li le, and drowsiness takes over.

Very gently, I begin to fall asleep.

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT

LILY CALLOWAY

TODAY IS A BIG DAY. Not delivery day. I’m many months away from that. But it’s the one where we nd out what Jonathan Hale wants.

I send the Superheroes & Scones store manager, Maya, a quick text about purchasing the new edi ons of Deadpool while I wait for everyone to meet me at the kitchen bar. I suppose I’m early, the oven clock reading 6:30 p.m. Lo should be back from Halway Comics in a few minutes, breezing through the door.

“You don’t have to come, Dais,” Ryke says adamantly, his rough voice echoing from the living room. I crane my neck to try to spot them, but they’re blocked by the wall.

“Your dad said it’s mandatory,” she tells him, “and I want to be there.”

“I don’t want you to be there because you’re in fucking pain right now.”

What? I spring o the barstool and rush into the living room.

“I feel amazing,” she says the word like she could run ve miles.

I step into the room as Ryke tells her, “I would believe you more if you weren’t doubled over, Calloway.”

Daisy is hunching, her hand on the back of the couch like a support. Her cast hangs by her side and her head dips down low. “I’m standing upright,” she says. “I’m taller than tall.” And then I no ce her casted wrist curving to her stomach like her abdomen hurts.

“Fuck this.” Ryke picks her up and cradles her easily in his arms.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

Ryke spins towards me, and Daisy turns her head into his chest, clearly wincing in pain now. “Cramps,” Ryke answers.

I frown, and I feel myself crinkling my nose like Lo men oned. I try to wipe away that look.

“Are you about to fucking sneeze or something?” he asks in that mean, blunt way.

“No.” I ush. “I’m just confused…” I scan Daisy who sts Ryke’s plain white tee, her discomfort clear.

“I don’t see how this is fucking confusing,” Ryke deadpans.

Afraid to embarrass Daisy, I hesitate delving into the subject, but he started it so…maybe he already knows everything. She seems to be open with him since they’re da ng anyway. “Daisy?” I say so ly.

“Huh?” She won’t remove her face from his shoulder, refusing to let me see her in pain.

“This is kind of long for a period, isn’t it?” I try to count the days since she said she started. It has to be about nine.

Ryke s ens but he stares down at Daisy, not speaking for her.

“It’s been awhile,” she says slowly. “But I’ve had ten day periods before…you know, I have this theory…” She grimaces. “…that it’s my body’s way of saying it loves me.” She almost climbs higher onto Ryke’s body as the cramps most likely return with a vengeance. Ryke wears this hard concern that’s nothing short of masculine and kind of scary and cute at the same me.

For her, not me. Just to be clear.

And then it clicks. “You s ll have irregular periods?” She used to have them during her extreme die ng phases. I blame modeling.

“They’re not as bad as they were,” Daisy says.

Ryke doesn’t seem as op mis c. “Four months of nothing and then this?” he tells her. “I can’t imagine what they were like before you met me.”

“Heaven,” she says sarcas cally.

“And now you’re in hell, fucking around with me.”

She laughs, but it dies quickly.

“Do you need Midol?” I ask.

“I took some already. It’ll pass if I don’t think about it. That’s what Rose always says about cramps.”

Mental power. That’s a smart person trait that I’m not so sure I have. With bad cramps, I just curl on my side, cling to Lo and have a Marvel movie marathon. I usually can’t concentrate on the lms, just focused on the clenching in my abdomen.

I have faith that Daisy can do it though. She’s strong.

Shoes suddenly clap against the hardwood, and Lo appears from the kitchen, entering through the backdoor. “Hey,” he says to us, rst scru nizing my wellbeing, then his brother and Daisy. “We should leave now in case there’s tra c.”

I spot his nervous anxiety from his locked shoulders and cut jawline. His hand even shakes a li le, but he balls it into a st when he catches me watching.

Lo approaches me while Ryke carries Daisy out the front door, s ll cradling her. “I’m ne, Lil,” Lo assures me. “Come on.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders.

“How was work?” I ask.

“Boring,” he says, rubbing his lips, another giveaway that he’s anxious. I reach out and hold his hand. His shoulders slacken by a frac on.

He shuts the front door behind him. “What’s up with Daisy?”

“Cramps,” I say.

His face scrunches like, what?

“I ques oned it too, but her periods are s ll out of whack.” What’s strange is that discussing Daisy’s periods has been the norm for some me. I wonder if she realizes that Rose spreads this news like wild re, and it becomes a topic among the guys too. I hope she’s not that embarrassed by it.

We descend the short stairs and walk to Lo’s ma e black Audi, parked by the r tree. Growing up, Lo always bummed rides with me, but when he

rst started Halway Comics, Jonathan removed the monthly cap on Lo’s

trust fund so he had enough to buy a car.

Ryke always tries to drive the Audi when he’s with Lo. Really, his love and obsession with the two-door car is grounds for chea ng on his silver In nity.

This me, instead of asking Lo to drive, Ryke climbs in the backseat with Daisy, ahead of us. He’d rather take care of his girlfriend than drive a cool car. If I was allowed on social media, I’d document this moment and upload it, literal cute proof that Raisy is meant to be.

Say that was me in Daisy’s posi on, Ryke wouldn’t crawl in the backseat on my account. In fact, he’d beg Lo to drive so he didn’t have to withstand my moaning and groaning. Our families’ publicists can’t see how useful this evidence is against the three-way rumors.

Lo lets out a short, amused laugh. “Ryke has to be dying.”

I have a feeling this isn’t about the car. Since Daisy is on her period, Ryke probably hasn’t had any ac on in a while. “He went four months without sex,” I remind Lo. “This has to be easy.”

“So easy that he’s most likely jerking o , coun ng the days un l he can get laid again.”

I don’t know.

Ryke is a guy, but for some reason, I got the impression that he’d rather Daisy have periods than none at all.

“You know that I can’t have sex for weeks a er I give birth, right?” I suddenly blurt out. I never thought it’d be an issue with him, but I forgot that he has needs—ones I’ve built to extreme levels. Ryke even said it: Lo fucks the most out of all the guys.

And I’m going to take that away from him.

Lo says quickly, “I know, Lil.” He rests his hands on my shoulders and guides me towards the Audi. And then his lips nestle against my neck and he groans, a not so good one. “Your hair smells like Rose.”

“I think it’s the stu in the basket she gave me.”

He kisses my temple. “I’m burning that shit.”

“It was a present.”

He grimaces. “Fine, whatever. It can stay as decora on.”

I crane my neck over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of him, and I no ce his muscles have unwound a lot more.

“Lily.”

“Yeah?”

“Move faster.” He pats my ass, and my breath hitches. I’ve stopped about ten feet from his car. With this incen ve, I quicken my pace. And the reality of where we’re headed sets in.

To Jonathan Hale’s we go.

“HE CHANGED the loca on to the country club,” Lo tells us as he drives out of our gated neighborhood. Oh. So to Jonathan Hale’s we don’t go?

Lo passes me his iPod that’s connected to the stereo system. This is the best part of being the side passenger. I have complete control over the music. That and I’m in touching distance of Loren Hale.

I cross my legs on the black leather seat and glance back at Daisy, her head on Ryke’s lap while she curls in a ball. “Theories?” she asks everyone about what’s going to happen with Jonathan.

I scroll through the iPod. “I think he’s just lonely.”

Lo taps the steering wheel. “He says it’s important.”

“He thinks brunch and golf is fucking important,” Ryke says roughly, his arm stretches along the black leather seat. It looks like he’s giving the Audi a li le hug. His eyes suddenly land on me. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”

“Can’t a person smile at you?” I say.

“No,” he deadpans.

I ip my hair at him as I turn around, feeling cooler than I know I look, and I nd my favorite song in the whole wide universe of brilliant tunes. The moment the electronic beats start blaring through the speakers, I turn the volume way up. It’s the only way to listen to Skrillex’s “Bangarang.”

Lo’s lips rise the moment he hears the song, as though memories and sen ments ood him. We’ve had good bedroom dance par es to this one. And epic sex against the wall.

Ryke groans while I start head-bobbing and shoulder dancing. If I wasn’t in a car, I’d be grinding up on Lo. This song deserves some body contact.

“This song fucking sucks,” Ryke declares.

I immediately freeze, and my jaw drops.

With one hand on the wheel, Lo uses his free one to shoot Ryke the middle nger. Ha! I s ck my tongue out at him, a very immature slight, but I feel younger again with Lo. Like when we were teenagers, drowning out everything else.

Daisy is laughing so hard, her medicine probably kicking in.

Ryke says, “If your kid inherits your musical taste, I’m going to fucking rip my hair out.”

I smile. I kind of hope Maximo does.

“Shit,” Lo curses, his jaw muscles twitching. Through his window, I no ce a tan mini-van in the next lane, matching the Audi’s speed. I highly doubt the van is full of preteens and a soccer mom.

The paparazzi must’ve either seen us leave the neighborhood or they were pped on our whereabouts. I have ba led a lot of my “going out in public” phobias, but having a van tucked so close to Lo makes me nervous.

I bite my nails, and I shi so my heel is pressed to the spot between my legs.

“Try speeding up,” Ryke suggests while Daisy li s her head o his lap to peek at the paparazzi. The van window rolls down and a cameraman points the lens at the Audi’s nted glass. I doubt he’ll have any good shots, but he snaps photos anyway, ashes blinking.

Lo shi s the manual car into another gear, going about twenty over the speed limit on an uncongested two-lane road.

I lower the volume of the song so he can concentrate.

“Turn it back up,” Lo tells me, his voice only slightly edged. He doesn’t look panicked and neither does Ryke, so I increase the stereo volume once more. He switches into the le lane and then checks the rearview mirror.

“My theory,” Daisy says to lessen the tension, “is that Jonathan wants us to host some kind of charity func on for him. Like PR stu .”

“That’s a pre y good theory,” I nod. I can see that happening. My

nger s ngs…I nibbled the nail to the bed. Shit.

“Lil, put your feet on the oor,” Lo tells me. He must no ce the posi on of my heel.

“You should be watching the road,” I say as I set my soles on the oor mat, but I clench my thighs together, kind of hoping for a stronger pressure, just to take away this anxiety. A climax sounds nice.

Stop, Lily.

“I can mul task,” he says, checking the rearview again. “Connor Cobalt didn’t patent that skill—goddammit.”

The stupid van has caught up to our car, and I squirm uneasily in the seat. Lo looks to me for a second, “Lil.”

I inch at his reprimanding tone. My hand is creeping like a criminal between my legs. Nonono. I raise my palms in the air, surrendering. “I’m

ne. I promise.”

His concern has elevated to extreme propor ons. “Maybe we shouldn’t go to this mee ng—”

“Nonono. I can do this. Lo, please.” My eyes widen like believe in me.

He studies my state of being, his gaze i ng from the road to me. And then he nods. “Hey, bro,” he calls back to Ryke. “I’m going to pull o the side of the road. Lil and I are going to switch with you and Daisy.”

“Fine with me,” Ryke says, actually looking happy about driving.

Lo is this worried about my anxiety. “I’m okay,” I try to convince him.

“I lied,” Lo tells me, slowing down onto the emergency lane. He parks the Audi and snaps o his buckle. “I can’t mul task.”

Oh. I lick my dry lips. “Okay.”

I unclick my seatbelt. The van parks ahead of us, the doors already opening. We’re on public property so they have every right to take photos. By the me we all step out of the Audi, two cameramen have le their van to snap pictures.

“Lily, look right here,” one of them calls out.

I’ve learned not to take the camera bait, focusing on Lo’s car and nothing else.

As Ryke passes his brother, he ips o both camera guys, and the

ashbulbs blink repeatedly.

“Is Lily pregnant with your baby?” one asks Ryke.

“Daisy, how do you feel about Ryke sleeping with your sister?”

My stomach somersaults. I hate that she’s s ll being a ected by my mistakes.

Except for Ryke’s middle ngers, none of us answer the paparazzi. We slip into our new seats, and Lo immediately wraps his arm around my waist, his hands in mine. It’s a ec on and touch that calms my nerves by a few degrees.

Ryke and Daisy buckle their seatbelts, and then Daisy reaches deep into Ryke’s front pocket…

Uhhh…I grow unexpectedly hot, and I can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or something worse. I try to convince myself it’s the former.

I look around to see if anyone no ces what she’s doing, but Lo is tex ng, probably his father. And Ryke is adjus ng his seat and mirrors.

Daisy retrieves Ryke’s smart phone and plugs it into the stereo. I relax a li le. My mind is a dirty, dirty place.

“You two…” Ryke rotates to look at me and his li le brother. “Put your fucking seatbelts on.”

“Just don’t kill me,” Lo says as we both buckle. “I’m too young to die.” He ashes his signature half-smile.

Ryke reverses the car, even with one hand on the wheel. He drives with much more precision than Lo, but Ryke succumbs to road rage the fastest out of everyone. In my opinion, it’s not a very good tradeo .

Daisy chooses a song I vaguely recall, and I spot the tle in the dashboard screen: “Dark Center of the Universe” by Modest Mouse. I bet it’s more of a “Ryke” song since she usually goes for the upbeat tunes and less angsty ones.

The moment Ryke shi s the car out of reverse, we go from zero to I’m-gonna-die. I wrap my arm around my belly and then clutch Lo’s leg.

“He’s gonna kill us,” I whisper-hiss to Lo.

He’s too busy watching the cameramen jump back into their van to reply.

“There aren’t any cops in twenty miles,” Daisy tells Ryke.

I frown. “How do you know that?”

She waves her cell. “An app.”

My daredevil li le sister would have an app aler ng her of nearby policemen.

“Bonnie and Clyde,” Lo says dryly, “we’re not robbing a bank. And really, I don’t want to know what gets you o . K, thanks.”

Ryke leans forward to look out the window. “Motherfuckers.”

Yep, they’ve caught up to us.

He steps on the gas, and my lungs suddenly rocket to my throat. “OhmyGodohmyGod.” This is like one of those theme rides in amusement parks—the ones where I end up peeing a li le bit because I’m terri ed of heights.

Only this is worse because Ryke is opera ng the machinery.

He slams on the brakes. “Hold on,” he tells us, the warning coming way too late.

I think I just peed. I check my crotch. Not that much. Thank God.

Lo clasps my hand while the van speeds ahead and Ryke swerves through the grassy median into the lanes going the other way. Now we’re headed in the opposite direc on of the van. And the country club.

Daisy is not only smiling like this is the best experience she’s had all week, but she lowers the window and s cks her hand out.

They are really meant for each other.

“You both are insane,” Lo says ma er-of-factly. “You shouldn’t worry about children because I don’t think either of you will live long enough to have any.”

Daisy mock gasps. “Too late. I’m already pregnant.”

“Cute, Calloway,” Ryke says, speeding up and pulling o the nearest exit so he can go a new way. He’s s ll speeding.

“Should we start praying?” I whisper to Lo. “Or maybe if we concentrate hard enough our teleporta on powers will kick in and we can blink away.” I pause. That’s really sel sh, leaving Ryke and Daisy to fend for themselves. “Or maybe we’ll be able to stop me.”

And that’s when a giant white Trailblazer merges into our lane and hits our Audi, crashing into the driver’s door and the one nearest Lo.

The side airbags pop and li le bi y pieces of glass rain down on both Ryke and Loren, crunchy like gravel.

“Fuck,” Ryke curses. We must’ve been in their blind spot.

The seatbelt has dug hard on my belly, and I feel more wetness between my legs. I solidify, wondering if it’s something worse than just pee. Ryke has to pull over into a nearby gas sta on with the Trailblazer, especially since the Audi is driving strange.

“I think the wheels are fucking bent,” Ryke says. Daisy turns o the stereo and brushes some of the glass out of Ryke’s hair.

I should do the same to Lo, but my eyes are just too wide, trans xed on one issue. I open my legs and peer down, but I can’t see much since my leggings are black.

“Lil?” Lo says, worry edging his voice. I can’t move.

Ryke tries to open his car door, but it’s jammed. Daisy climbs out the Audi rst, then Ryke crawls over the middle console and exits. I’m next.

I can’t move.

“Lily,” Lo forces my name and cups my face, turning it to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I either peed or…” My eyes burn.

Lo glances down at my lap. “You’re bleeding?”

“I don’t know,” I say in one ght breath.

He li s up my sweater and tugs at the band of my leggings to peer down. A er pulling at my pan es, we both see a few droplets of blood.

“Lo…” I say, tears welling.

“It’s probably nothing…” But he already has his phone out, dialing a number. I’m guessing 911. He kisses my temple and then whispers, “Climb out. I’m right behind you.”

I swallow a lump and step out of the car. Police sirens blare in the distance, and glass sprinkles the pavement. The Trailblazer isn’t as beat up as our smaller car, but the driver is s ll inspec ng his bumper.

“Daisy,” Ryke says, his voice full of concern.

My head whips to the side, and I spot my li le sister leaning against the Audi’s hood. She stares faraway, lost in her mind it seems. Ryke keeps waving a hand at her, but she’s not even responding.

“Daisy, fucking look at me.”

“What…” She blinks in a daze, and her arms tremble. It’s like she’s somewhere else en rely, maybe back in Paris, in the riot, where her face was scarred. The sirens and wreck could’ve triggered the trauma from that night.

Lo emerges from the Audi and immediately places his hands on my hips. “Lily,” he whispers, “an ambulance is coming. I just want to get you checked out. As a precau on, okay?” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear.

I bite my gums to keep my watery gaze at bay. “What about the mee ng with your dad?”

“I’ve texted him.” He hugs me to his chest. “It’s probably nothing,” he says again.

Yeah. It’s probably nothing.

I feel a hot tear escape. I’m at the mercy of fate. It’s a cruel thing. To be in the hands of the universe.

Forces that are rarely on our side.

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER NINE

LOREN HALE

“I JUST WISH I could feel him,” Lily says.

She rests on the hospital bed, one of her palms on her lower abdomen. I hold her other hand, standing beside her while we wait for the ER doctor to return and do an ultrasound.

“I mean, I know I haven’t felt him before. But now I just really wish he’d kick or move, just to let me know that he’s…” Tears build in her green eyes, her cheeks splotched with red.

I squeeze her hand. “He’s ne,” I say, my voice more edged than I like. My pulse hasn’t slowed. I don’t want to lose him—it’s a realiza on that crushes my lungs.

I don’t want to lose this kid that I never even wanted.

He’s a piece of me and Lily, and most people would consider that a tainted, damaged thing. But the more I think about it—and the longer she carries our child—I recognize all of the good parts of us.

They fucking exist.

And there is a hope, a chance, that he could be more than what I am. That he could be be er than me.

Lily sni s, and I wipe beneath her eyes with my thumb. I turn my head to check on my brother.

By the door, Ryke sits hunched over. A cellphone on his lap. His face buried in his hands. He’s apologized about a hundred mes.

Once for my totaled car, ninety-nine mes for Lily.

“It’s not your fault,” I say for the ieth. The car hit us. It was just a freak accident.

“I was speeding,” Ryke says, dropping his hands. His eyes are bloodshot. Mine remain dry and con nue to burn, so I’m guessing they mirror his.

“Not by much.” He slowed down by that point.

His phone buzzes, and he quickly picks it up. His face contorts. “She’s ge ng fucking psych evaluated.” He tried to follow Daisy to her hospital room, but a nurse told him family only and so he was shu ed to ours.

Now we know why they kicked him out. “Maybe that’s a good thing,” I tell him.

Her eyes didn’t look right. The Paris riot—it’s s ll with me. Ryke’s eyebrow is slit in the corner, a literal scar from that night like Daisy’s cheek. I have no external wounds to show for, but I remember the fear, the complete lack of control, and I never want to experience that again. It’s panic so deep that death feels close. Su oca ng.

Inside out.

Today was a very small taste of that, and I think we all know it triggered something in Daisy that we can’t see.

Ryke runs his hands through his hair, distressed, and then he scans Lily on the hospital bed. “I’m so fucking sorry, Lily.”

“It’s okay,” she says in a so voice. Her chin quakes.

“Shh, love.” I lean closer to her and hold her face between two hands. “He’s okay.” My chest collapses at the pain in her eyes.

“I can’t feel him,” she cries, tears leaking.

My heart is torn to shreds. “You could never feel him,” I remind her. “It doesn’t mean he’s dead.” The moment I say the word, she bursts from a cry to a gu ural sob. I can’t explain this hurt that courses through me, it’s like being submerged beneath water. “Shh, Lil,” I choke out her name. I end up stroking her head, wishing I could just crawl on the hospital bed and hold her in my arms.

The door suddenly opens, but it’s Ryke. Leaving. I catch him pinching his eyes before he disappears. A er a few minutes of silence, Lily breathes out trained breaths, her eyes shut as wet trails streak her cheeks.

When Ryke enters the room again, so does the doctor, and I wonder if my brother tracked him down. I have a feeling he did.

The man with combed blond hair and blue scrubs does a small double-take, recognizing our faces from the media, probably. He snatches a chart o the wall. “I’m Dr. Adams. I’ll be taking your ultrasound.”

“You seem young,” I say.

“I’m a rst year resident.”

As long as he can read the machine, I don’t really care what year he is.

Dr. Adams sits on a stool and li s Lily’s sweater to her ribs. While he squirts gel on her stomach, his gaze pings between me and Ryke, deep in thought. “So who’s the father?”

Ryke crosses his arms, and I glower. He can’t be serious.

“Loren is,” Lily answers so ly.

“I may have lost my kid and that’s what you ask me?” I say to this guy.

Dr. Adams switches on the ultrasound monitor. “If you need a paternity test—”

“She doesn’t fucking need one,” I cut him o . My throat is too closed up to add anything else. I can’t even ash a dry smile. I just glare.

Ryke adds, “You have the worst fucking bedside manner I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m working on it,” he says unenthusias cally. And then he presses the probe on her stomach, smoothing the gel out as he runs it across her skin. The sonogram pops up on the monitor, and Lily’s ngers ghten around mine, her collar protruding as she inhales.

And slowly, I hear the beep, beep, beep of another heart.

The relief almost buckles my legs.

He’s okay.

I rub my lips as my body asks me to exhale, to breathe, to cry. I bo le every sen ment that normal people let out. Why are you fucking crying, Loren? I hear my dad’s voice in the pit of my ear. And I shut down any tears. Just like that.

“He’s looking good,” Dr. Adams a rms. “Vitals of both mother and child, no internal bleeding, everything in check.” He quickly stands up, wiping the gel o her stomach with a towel. “I suggest consul ng your Ob/Gyn within the week, just as rou ne, but it all should be ne. I have to do some paperwork, and I’ll have a nurse release you when you’re free to go.”

He speaks so fast that he’s out the door, and the weight of this good news hits me harder.

My life wasn’t rerouted again. Not this me. I sit on the edge of the hospital bed, and Lily immediately ings her arms around my shoulders, her forehead to my chest. I hug her closer, my heart pounding so hard that I wonder if she can feel it.

I want him.

Goddamn I want this kid more than I’ve wanted a lot of things in life.

And I know it’s because he’s a part of us. I’d never want to destroy a piece of Lily. No ma er if the road ahead will be rougher. Without her, it’d be unbearable. We’ve crossed a point where losing our son would hurt more than actually having him.

“Lil,” I whisper, my lips brushing her ear. “I love you.” My hand slides across her neck, and she li s her head and kisses me, so tenderly that I understand she wants it to be one kiss and nothing more sexual. I open my mouth to ask if she’s okay.

But she speaks before I can. “You’re relieved.”

I shake my head and lt her chin up.

She frowns.

“I’m happy,” I clarify. Despite all of my fears, I’m happy that he’s alive.

She kisses my cheek and then I can’t hold back any longer, I kiss her full-force, my breath becoming hers and hers mine. One of my arms wraps along her back. When the door creaks open, we instantly part.

“Thanks,” Daisy says to a nurse who must’ve led her here.

“Do you need anything else, honey?”

“No, I’m good.” She has stapled papers in her hand, and she waves to the nurse as she leaves. When Daisy spins around, Ryke approaches her without hesitance or cau on—he kisses her on impact with deep concern. And she holds onto his waist, her body curving towards him in acceptance and want of that embrace.

I’m about to look away, but he pulls back and says, “You fucking scared me.”

“I scared myself,” she whispers, searching his eyes. “Don’t make me cry.”

“It’s okay to cry, Dais.”

My stomach knots.

She nods and stands on the ps of her toes to kiss him once more. Then she says, “I love you.”

His shoulders almost relax, but his face stays hardened. He whispers in her ear.

A er I give him the me to say I love you back, I clear my throat, and they both turn to look at us.

Daisy steps forward, her eyes widening. “Lily—”

“The baby’s ne,” I explain. Lily s ll holds onto me like she’s learning how to breathe again. “What’s with the papers?” I gesture to the stack in Daisy’s hand.

“Oh…” Daisy pauses for a second, and she glances between me and my brother. “Guess what?” She waves the papers theatrically in the air and outstretches her arms. “I’m pregnant.” Then she bows.

The room is dead silent.

My brother’s face falls.

I go u erly s ll.

“What?” Ryke says, his hands res ng on his head.

Lily’s jaw has dropped to the oor.

And then Daisy straightens up with a playful smile. “Just kidding.”

Ryke lets out a long breath that turns into a growl. “Fucking hell, Daisy. I’ve had about ve heart a acks in the past fucking hour.”

“It was a joke,” she says quietly. “You know, the ones where you laugh at the end.”

“I’m not fucking laughing.”

“Wrong crowd,” she says. “I must’ve missed the room with the boyfriend who would’ve laughed.”

“Must be the boyfriend who doesn’t know you that well.” He grabs the papers out of her hand and ips through them. She used the “I’m pregnant” announcement to de ect whatever those papers are about.

Ryke’s features turn grave, and I understand how serious it must be.

“What is it?” Lily asks Daisy.

She shrugs weakly. “They want to put me on some medica on again.”

Ryke folds the paper, which must be prescrip ons that she’ll need to pick up, and he stu s it in his back pocket.

My phone buzzes, but so does everyone else’s.

We all check the group text.

Please, one of you, fucking call me. We’ll reschedule the mee ng. I

just want to know if my grandson’s alive. – Dad

He’d probably be here if tra c wasn’t gridlocked from the wreck. I’m the rst to text him back.

Yeah. I hesitate on what else to add, my body binding with more emo on. I try to smother these feelings on ins nct. I swallow and type: He’s okay.

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER TEN

LOREN HALE

WITH A GROCERY BAG IN HAND, I slowly open the door to my bedroom. I hope Lily is either asleep or watching Thor from where we le o —right before she craved apples and cream cheese icing. Both of which, weren’t in the house. I had to take Lily’s car—since mine is out of commission—to make a run to the store.

When I walk through, I see Lil on our bed, my tablet cupped in her hand while her brows furrow. The moment I shut the door, she inches and hides the tablet beneath the comforters.

Not porn, is my rst and only thought.

“Hiding something?” I ask her.

She holds out her hands for the grocery bag, her eyes widening. I stand at the foot of the bed. She looks ridiculously adorable dressed in her red Spider-Man onesie, pajamas that she bought in college.

“Did you get the icing?” She perks up and reaches for the plas c bag.

I retract my arm, keeping a hard demeanor. “How about we trade? Give me the tablet and I’ll give you the food?”

“I wasn’t doing anything wrong,” she says, but makes no movement to grab the tablet.

I suddenly seize her ankle and tug her to the edge of the bed quickly. The breath rushes out of her, and her eyes land solely on my package. I put my face very close to hers so she stares right into my gaze. “Lily Calloway, are you looking at porn?”

“No,” she says. I don’t detect the lie.

“Were you on Tumblr?”

She presses her lips together.

I give her a no-nonsense look. “Lil.”

“Lo.”

I shake my head at her. “What could be so goddamn interes ng that you’d risk your precious apples and icing?”

She raises her hands. “I can explain.” Her mouth stays frozen, wide open, and no words escape.

To cut to the chase, I rest a knee on the bed, lean forward and steal my tablet back. She doesn’t even a empt to retrieve it. She just buries her face in the comforter, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment.

I’m more confused. I type in my password on the lock screen. And what pops up is an ar cle, not on Tumblr, tled: Best sex posi ons during pregnancy.

It’s not even close to being bad.

She mumbles something into the comforter that sounds like, I was just curious.

I take the tub of icing and the tray of sliced apples out of the bag and then roll Lily on her back. She shields her face with her hands.

“I couldn’t help it. I mean, I could, but I just wondered what would feel the best and…and I’m going to stop talking now.”

I straddle her, my knees on either side of her hips, and she peeks out of her ngers, inspec ng the icing and the apples in my clutch.

“Am I dreaming?” she whispers.

“No, love.”

She crinkles her nose. “This seems an awful lot like one of my fantasies.” She pauses. “Only you’re supposed to be naked.”

“In me,” I tell her, snapping open the tub of icing.

“So you’re not mad at me?” she asks, propping her body on her elbows.

“I trust you, Lil.” I’d rather her be comfortable when we sleep together than panicked and anxious anyway. I recognize how unfair it must be when I can read all of these sites, have all of this knowledge, and she’s supposedly not allowed any of it—for the sake of not arousing her. We’re going to fuck regardless.

She reddens even more as she whispers, “Are we going to have sex right now?”

“Why are you whispering?” I say. “Are you hiding someone under the bed?”

“No,” she says, watching me dip an apple in icing.

With my other hand, I cup the spot between her legs, and she writhes beneath me, a breathless sound leaving her lips. My cock throbs a couple

mes. I’m about to put the apple between her lips, but the moment I lean

forward, our window suddenly sha ers. I inch as a projec le thuds hard on the oorboards.

What the hell?

Lily goes rigid in fright, her ngers gripping my biceps.

Climbing o her body, I ins nc vely posi on her behind me. “Lil, stay back.” My command is mu ed through shou ng outside, alarmed voices that echo into our bedroom.

“Come on, go, go!”

“Run. Run! He’s going to see us!”

My pulse is racing with blood-red heat as I start to piece together this incident. A prank. I grind my teeth. A stupid prank. I immediately stand o the bed, and Lily crawls to the edge.

I give her a warning look. “Lily, stay back.” Too much glass li ers the

oor, and I don’t want her near it. My eyes fall to her abdomen. I have

someone else to look out for too. This must trigger a maternal impulse in Lily. She remains s ll, not following me.

With a pit in my stomach, I step around the sharp shards and pick up a brick, a note a ached with a rubber band. I head to the window before I read it, my muscles in taut strands. Right outside, I spot about ve teenagers in black hoodies, sprin ng across our yard. Floodlights s ll illuminate the grass.

Only one of the guys turns to look back. And his eyes meet mine. Dead on. I feel how severely sharpened my face is—I sense the malice in my eyes. But it all bleeds away the moment I see the same exact expression in this teenager. The same guy that I grabbed in the street during the paintball prank.

I shake my head at him.

He inhales heavily. And then he sprints away, following his friends. My gaze falls to the cold brick. I snap o the rubber band and unfurl the white paper.

“What does it say?” Lily asks.

Roses are red.

Violets are blue.

Fuck your slut.

We all know your brother will too.

With white knuckles, I crumple the paper, my veins on re. I suppress this irrita on. I hate the three-way rumors, but what I hate more are the ones about our kid belonging to Ryke.

“Lo?” she says.

And what I can’t stomach—is Lily’s reac on to these things. It tears her down, and I want her to rise above it all. But it fucking hurts. I know it. So I’m going to do my best to shield her from this shit.

I pull the velvet purple curtains closed, a lie already concocted in my head. “It’s a bad joke about small dicks. It’s not even funny.”

She nods, probably not even believing me, but she lets it go anyway. Her gaze travels to the glass, the broken window already concealed behind the curtain.

“I’ll clean it later,” I say the moment our door blows open without a knock.

“Hey,” Ryke says. “I heard a…” He sees the glass and then the brick in my hand.

“Here.” I step around the shards and hand him the brick and balled note. “Do what you want with this. It’s nothing to me.”

His shoulders ghten, and he unfurls the note, reading it quickly. His voice lowers so Lily can’t hear him. “This is fucking wrong.”

“We’ve heard it all before,” I say. “I can deal with it.” I don’t need Ryke to threaten these guys on my behalf. I have a louder voice than him anyway. I’ve always been capable of lashing out. This is the route I’ve never taken before.

Wait and see. Be calm. Try to put my emo ons aside to nd the be er op on.

“Are you sure?” Ryke asks me, his eyes ickering to Lily on the bed and back to me.

“They’re not going to break our fragile hearts into li le pieces,” I say dryly. “So no one needs to contact a realtor. We’re not moving.” Everyone’s lives have changed too many mes because of outside forces. This house is supposed to be our stability, and these teenagers aren’t going to take that away.

We’ve lost way too much already.

“You feel like you need something, and you come to me, okay?” Ryke suddenly says. He means booze.

I play dumb. “Sure. Next me I need a shoulder to cry on, I’ll make sure to blow snot on your shirt.”

He ips me o , but we both end up smiling weakly.

I rub the back of my neck. “Can you just let everyone else know what happened? I want to be alone with Lily right now, and Rose hasn’t learned how to knock either.”

Ryke rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll tell everyone to give you an hour—”

“Longer,” I say.

Lily inhales in surprise and par al arousal.

Both Ryke and I turn to look at Lil, her skin nearly blending into her red onesie. She ings a blanket over her head so Ryke can’t see her embarrassment. I can’t hold back a smile. Goddamn, I love her.

“I already fucking saw you, Lily,” my brother says like she’s being ridiculous.

Lily mumbles out a response that sounds like, no you didn’t.

I pat Ryke’s shoulder. “See you later.”

He takes the hint and exits the bedroom, shu ng the door on his way out. I climb back on the bed, straddle her and yank the blanket o her face, her hair frizzing with the sta c. Her lips part while her gaze trails my body.

“In my fantasy, you’re naked,” she reminds me.

“Do you want this to last longer than an hour, love?”

She nods with wide, desirous eyes.

I kiss her lips tenderly and then whisper, “Then we’re going to go really, really slow.”

She smiles and kisses me back, agreeing to this plan. She pauses for just a second and I sense the hesita on in her body, which is unlike Lily.

“Do you think they’ll stop?” she asks me seriously.

I realize she’s talking about the teenagers. “Maybe,” I say. “I don’t know.” I frown. “Are you scared?”

“Not really. We dealt with worse assholes in prep school, right?”

Me, I think. I was worse. I poured pig’s blood on a guy’s front door and did countless other things. “Right,” I breathe.

“They can’t come in the house…” she says with unease.

“No,” I say forcefully. “They wouldn’t. Plus, we have a security system.”

She nods repeatedly and then she kisses me quickly and deeply. I rest her back against the ma ress again. I just try to forget about the interrup on, the teenagers, and the sharp look of the young guy down the street—the one that simultaneously said fuck you.

And kill me.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

LILY CALLOWAY

“HOW COULD I have slept through a fucking car accident?” Rose says, aghast for the umpteenth me. She sits on a leather bar stool with a winter recipe book cracked open.

“Queen Rose, it’s been ten days,” Loren says with li le amusement. “You weren’t even there, so let us peons re ect on the situa on and you can let it go.” He gives her a bi er smile and dusts our o his hands with a towel. That was one of his nicer comments of the day.

Baking, I have found, makes Loren Hale mean. Almost like smiling, happy gingerbread men frustrate him. He already put frowny faces on the second batch of cookies, just to ensure that they all share in his irritated state of being.

“I can’t let it go,” Rose says in a hu . “No one even called us.” She angrily ips a page in her recipe book. They found out about the car accident from Celebrity Crush before we could tell them. We’ll never live it down.

But I know it’s more than not calling. Rose is scared that she’s now part of the outer circle. Connor isn’t happy either. They both like to know everything before everyone—so this s ngs.

I watch Daisy and Ryke man the blender in our stainless steel kitchen. Measuring cups, cupcake trays, sugar and bu er are splayed on the countertops.

I’m not wandering around, but I eat chocolate chips out of the bag next to Rose, which I’d like to think helps in some way. I’m taste-tes ng the food.

It’s edible. Just in case someone out there is wondering.

“I would’ve liked a text message, at least,” Connor says, opening a carton of eggs. He stands closest to Lo on the other side of the bar counter.

Lo leans against the cupboard. He snaps back, “I’ll send you one right now if it makes you feel be er.” He doesn’t even add love on the end of it, which he reserves only for me and one of his best friends.

Connor’s eyebrow arches and he stares blankly at him.

I say to Lo, “Baking makes you mean.”

He grips the counter, takes a deep breath, and his narrowed amber eyes it up to me. “My dad texted me about the mee ng.”

The kitchen goes quiet except for the whirling blender.

“And?” I ask, caging a breath.

“And nothing. He just keeps saying he’ll explain in person, but now he’s not even saying when that’ll be.” He straightens up as he exhales again. “It’s annoying as shit.”

Ryke says, “He’s just messing with us. It’s what he fucking does.”

Lo shakes his head again in disagreement. “It’s like he’s scared or something…I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it, honestly.”

Rose points to a photo of peppermint cookies. “Whole Foods sells this exact cookie.”

Lo looks grateful for the digression, even if it’s coming from Rose. My older sister is ready to hop o the barstool, grab her keys and go shopping.

Her shopping skills far outrank her cooking skills.

And I agree, this sounds like a brilliant plan. I perk up. I’m about to call quits on our a empt at baking. I’m known to be lazy, so I have a perfect excuse.

But Connor rips the recipe book out of Rose’s hand and skims the ingredients. “You can make this easily, darling.”

Her yellow-green eyes pierce his forehead. “I don’t cook. The smart thing, Richard, would be to save me and buy all of this.” She gestures to the tray of misshapen gingerbread men (Lo’s), burnt snickerdoodles (Daisy’s) and perfectly brown oatmeal raisins (Ryke’s).

“It’s the e cient thing,” Connor says. “But Maria asked for homemade cookies, not store bought ones.” Poppy’s daughter is having some sort of baked goods sale, and my oldest sister enlisted our help.

“Maria also knows that I loathe baking.” Rose stretches over the bar to talk to Connor.

Oh this is good. I eat the chocolate chips like popcorn, my lips rising in entertainment. The nerd stars are sparkling. Lo is watching too, and he joins my side and s cks his hand in the chocolate chip bag.

Connor is prac cally grinning. “Are you really implying that she’s doing this on purpose?”

“Yes.” Rose pulls back her shoulders like a cat ready to pounce.

Connor grins, full-on now. “She’s six.”

Lo whispers to me, “Burn.”

“Rose has this,” I whisper back. “Watch.” I’m Team Nerd Stars, but if I must choose an allegiance, I will go with my sister, every me.

“All kids are devils in disguise,” Rose retorts, her forearms on the bar, “and apparently I’m the only one who sees them for what they really are.”

“And what is that?”

“Small, ny gremlins.”

Lo chokes on a chocolate chip. I pat his back and keep ea ng mine, my eyes widening with delight. This is be er than a summer blockbuster.

Rose’s bu rises o the stool as she con nues, “The kind that will suck up all of your me and energy, and before you know it, you’re an old hag with nothing but saggy, disgus ng cookies.”

“Your hyperboles are nothing new,” he tells her. I think he only likes them when they come from her.

She sco s. “I speak the truth.”

“If anyone here is a truthteller, it’s me, darling.” He winks.

She glares. “Next me you wink at me, Richard, I’m going to scratch out your eyeball and set it on re.”

He leans closer to her, their lips a breath apart. “Go ahead and try.”

Her gaze falls to his mouth, the sexual tension heightened, but it doesn’t s r me to bad places. Their intellectual love is always more amusing to me than ero c. “If you’re a truthteller,” she says, “then what does that make me, Richard?”

“A storyteller. The world needs those, so don’t feel bad.” Ohhhhh.

“Double burn,” Lo says. He looks to me. “You were saying, love?” He’s Team Connor, all the way.

I refuse to concede. My sister will come out on top.

Rose’s cheeks are ushed though—half in anger and half in arousal, her breath shallow. And she glowers. “Don’t smirk at me.” Her eyes it to his lips again and back to his deep blues.

Connor’s grin only overtakes his face, arrogant and—

“I married an egomaniac,” Rose says. “What is wrong with me?”

Okay, so maybe she’s going to come out on bo om, but I think that’s a place she likes to be in the bedroom. In my book, she won. I nod de ni vely.

Connor leans forward, his wrists on the counter, ngers skimming her arms. “Rien du tout.” Nothing at all.

I inch in surprise with the candy bag in hand, chocolate chips sailing through the air. Everyone turns to me, and I redden. S ll I point at Connor. “I understood you! Ha!” My French transla on book is nally paying o .

And Connor gives me one of the most genuine smiles, and then he claps, not in sarcasm, like real applause for someone who aced a test and deserves an A-plus.

It lls me with more con dence than I think I’ve ever had. I can be on the same level as the two smartest people in the house. It just takes a li le work and dedica on. Things they excel in—things I’m learning.

Lo kisses my temple, his hands swooping around my waist from behind. My body warms at his touch, and I purposefully avoid his features, not able to stare too long. His gorgeous jawline and amber eyes will send me on a one-way cket to the bedroom, and I’ve been doing…not so hot these past few days in the sex department.

It’s just di cult being so aroused all the me.

Lo even reads me well, no teasing. He just keeps his one loose arm around me and stays by my side. He says to Rose, “It’s funny how you’re bitching when we’ve done most of the baking.” He gestures from his chest to Ryke to Connor.

“Daisy helped us,” Ryke reminds him, popping the lid o the chocolate icing.

“And Daisy,” Lo amends.

“I’m bitching for Lily too, not just for myself.” She raises her chin to me. “You’re welcome.” And then she folds her hands on the counter and sits straighter. I do love Rose, even when she’s standing on the opposite side from Lo.

He ashes her a half-smile and then walks back to Connor. He pats him on the shoulder. “She’s all yours, love.”

Connor grins a billion-dollar grin, and his eyes never waver from Rose’s and hers never detach from his, like they’re speaking in their brains. Mind reading—a smart person superpower.

I smile and scoop some chocolate chips o the counter while Lo checks the oven. When I look up, I catch Ryke and Daisy ir ng, two of his ngers dipping into the chocolate icing.

My body actually reacts, my skin warming in places it shouldn’t. I s en, remembering a similar icing situa on in the past with them. When

they weren’t together. But I never heated back then. I de nitely didn’t break into an aroused sweat. I wipe my arm over my clammy forehead, cursing myself for feeling anything at all.

Daisy faces her older boyfriend, holding onto his belt loops, and then Ryke sucks the chocolate o , his ngers deep in his mouth, and his eyes roll back in a fake orgasm.

Holy shit.

I need to look away. Ryke Meadows cannot be arousing me. No, no, no. If there is one constant it’s this: Ryke Meadows is my mood killer, my go-to image to make me dry. My hormonal body doesn’t realize how annoying Ryke can be.

As soon as Ryke drops his ngers, he kisses Daisy so deeply, with skilled tongue ac on. Her hands grip his thick brown hair.

I grow wet and force my gaze anywhere else.

That was not hot, I try to fool myself. I would like to crawl beneath the bar stool, hide and disintegrate into the oorboards.

This is too awkward to even talk about, let alone ponder in my dirty, messed up mind. Now my elbows are even red.

Great.

I hear a tray cla er on the stove, and I realize Lo not only saw me squirming but he may have caught the source of my arousal.

Oh God. My face contorts in humilia on. I’m not turned on by his brother—he can’t believe that. Not when Mr. Clean on the Febreze bo le made me hot and bothered the other day. And he’s old and bald and very two-dimensional.

But Lo’s features have marbleized in this I hate the fucking world expression that he carries almost twenty-four-seven. “Your cookies are burnt,” he snaps at Ryke, breaking my gaze.

Wait, come back.

Ryke detaches from Daisy in an instant. “Fuck,” he curses and checks the tray on the stove. His brows pinch. “They look ne to me.” He ips one over, the bo om light brown.

“My bad,” Lo says dryly.

I open my mouth to call him over, but his back suddenly spins, like he’s icing me out. My heart lurches. Turn around. I need to know I didn’t upset him…or o end him. I usually have the best read on Lo, and I have no superpowers of mental persuasion or any magic like Connor. I am too much of a squib to x this.

Turn around. Nothing.

Lo whispers with Connor, and a pit wedges even further in my lungs.

And then Daisy’s phone rings while Ryke washes his hands.

“Who is it?” Rose asks.

Daisy’s face falls a li le. “Mom. She’s trying to convince me to go to a plas c surgeon for the scar again, on top of planning my birthday.” She lets out a red breath and rubs her eyes. “I’ll be a couple minutes.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Rose says, outstretching her hand to snatch the phone as Daisy passes.

“No.” Daisy hugs the cell to her chest and walks backwards to the basement door. “You don’t need the stress. It’s all cool. I can handle her.” With this, Daisy disappears. The last thing I hear her say is, “Hey, Mom.”

I try not to worry about Daisy or Lo, and instead focus on Ryke who chucks some dirty bowls into the sink. Maybe I can squash this and convince Lo that nothing is happening. I’m repelled by Ryke. We’re so platonic it hurts.

In a nonsexual way.

I cringe. I really need to stop thinking. I ask Ryke, “What are you ge ng her?”

He rotates to me, his features all dark. All stone to his brother’s ice. “For what?”

Rose lets out a not-so-surprised half-laugh. “Her birthday,” she says

atly. “Tell me you’ve already bought her something.”

“For fuck’s sake, it was just Valen ne’s Day.” And he cancelled his plans of camping under the stars with Daisy that day, the paparazzi just too rabid a er the small car wreck. Any me we pop up in the tabloids like a newsworthy blip, our photos start selling for more money. So February 14th, Ryke just cooked Daisy dinner and spent the night indoors like Lo and me.

Connor and Rose were the only two who ventured out, and Rose called the evening “hellish” since they were late for their dinner reserva ons in New York. Even though their whereabouts were pped to the media, Rose returned home with an uncharacteris cally giddy smile and a limo full of red and pink roses.

They were from her fans, who showed up to see her, just to say I love you, Rose Calloway, and give her a present on Valen ne’s Day. I love our short-lived reality show for bringing this type of unexpected joy into our lives, and it veri es why these kinds of fans should rule the world.

“So what if it was just Valen ne’s Day,” Rose snaps, redirec ng my thoughts to the present, “it’s s ll her birthday on the twen eth, and she’ll expect a gi from her boyfriend.”

“I’m working on it,” Ryke says, nearing the bar counter while Lo and Connor share fur ve whispers a few feet away.

I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, my palms sweaty. I wish I wasn’t on the outs.

“Look,” Ryke con nues, “a lot is going on…” He trails o as Rose snatches the nearest utensil—a whisk—and points it at him threateningly.

This would be scarier if it was something sharp. Like a knife or a fork.

“Do not tell me that you forgot her birthday,” Rose says in her icy tone. Oh no.

But I remember that Ryke isn’t Lo. He holds his hands up defensively. “Daisy is not the type of fucking person to remind anyone about her birthday. It’s not my fault.”

“That was directed towards me,” Rose says like she caught an insult midair with a baseball glove.

Ryke frowns in confusion. “What?”

“Because I emailed you my birthday i nerary in advance…” O Ryke’s scrunched gaze, she adds, “Do you even check your email?”

“To be honest, I don’t even know my password,” Ryke tells her. “And who plans their birthday six months in advance?” Solid points. I look to Lo, wondering if he sees how cordial this conversa on is—how unsexy we all are.

My heart just keeps sinking the longer I stare at his back.

Rose drums her ngers on the bar counter. “I’m not ashamed. It’s the one day of the year dedicated to me, so if three-hundred-and-sixty-four days fail to live up to my standards, I s ll have this one.”

“You sound like Connor,” I point out with a small smile.

She glares. “If Connor appreciated the narcissism in his own birthday that’d make sense, but he refuses to believe they’re anything more than meaningless.”

I wait for Connor to pipe in about how he won’t celebrate his birthday, but like Lo, he’s not paying a en on to our discussion.

I nd myself scratching my arm, and I immediately freeze in slight panic. I haven’t done that in a while. Ryke’s face hardens in that masculine concern—something I do not want to see right now. In fact, I need to stop making eye contact with him altogether. I have a new tac c: Avoid Ryke Meadows.

Rose is s ll drawn to the birthday topic, thankfully not no cing my strangeness. “Buy her diamond earrings,” she says.

“She’d fucking hate that.”

I stare at the bar counter while I mu er, “She’ll like anything you get her.” Daisy is pre y much the easiest person to please.

“Is there something interes ng about the counter that we don’t fucking know about?” Ryke suddenly asks me.

I squint at the granite, speckles of gray, white and black. “I think if you close one eye like this…you can see a bunny rabbit.”

“Everyone is so fucking weird.”

Rose dismisses that comment with the swat of her hand. “Just wait un l you have your rst ght with Daisy.” She says it like she’s expec ng the moment to happen. Why is she pu ng that thought into his head?

I lightly elbow Rose. “Don’t say that. They don’t ght.” I can’t see Daisy being that upset over a present.

“Everyone ghts.”

I point my nger at Ryke, and it accidentally pokes him in the eye. Oh my God! When did he get that close to me?

“Fuck, Lily,” he curses, his hand ying to his face.

I wince. “Sorry… I was going to tell you not to ght with her.”

“I fucking got that.” He sighs with a heavy growl. “I didn’t mean to say it like that.” He drops his hand, his eye a li le reddened from my a ack. He glances at the basement door and then back to me. “You okay?”

“Yeah?” Do I not look okay? My heart is racing with anxiety.

If I shi a li le, I can feel how soaked my pan es are, and I hate, hate, hate that he was the cause. I’m not even a racted to him right now.

He suddenly walks around the bar counter, his nearness alarming me, especially as I no ce Lo watching us and my reac on. Ryke clasps my wrist, prying my hand from my arm, half-moon nail inden ons by my elbow. I was scratching again?

I can feel his body heat, and I ins nc vely hop o the stool and push him away with two rm palms, a li le more aggressively than I intended.

“What the fuck?” Ryke swears.

“Just stay back,” I say, breathing heavily. I shu e into the kitchen.

“Lily—”

“Shh. It’s be er if you don’t talk of this,” I tell him. Let’s just forget my weirdness ever happened and pretend that everything is okay. Nothing is happening between Ryke and me. Nothing.

Ryke glowers. “Are you reading the fucking tabloids again?”

“Yes.” I nod. “It’s important that I’m up to date on all the rumors.” The three-ways, the I’m having Ryke’s baby ones are out of control. Lo says it doesn’t bother him, but at the hospital, I could tell that comment from the doctor dug underneath his skin. It hurt me just as much.

“That’s the stupidest fucking excuse,” he tells me. “We’re friends, Lily. That’s it. You know it. I know it. So what if the fucking world doesn’t believe us?”

“I care!” I shout. I can’t turn it o like he can. A er a while, the ridicule hurts.

“You’re fucking stronger than that!” he yells back. I don’t feel it. Not today. I think Ryke just wishes I was at his level. If all of us didn’t give a shit, then he’d never have to watch us crumble.

I feel tears crest my eyes. I wish, so badly, that I could be more like him. Doesn’t he understand how much we’d all replace parts of ourselves just to have a li le of what he possesses?

“Hey,” Lo cuts in, his tone not as sharp. “Leave her alone, man.”

My heart skips, and even though Lo s cks up for me, I s ll can’t read him. It frightens me. We’re out of sync, and I can’t remember the last me where this happened. Maybe in college, when we went without talking for a whole week and our addic ons overtook our lives.

Ryke breathes heavily. “I don’t want the fucking tabloids ruining my friendship with her.”

Rose pipes in, “That’s what they’re hoping, for all of us to break apart. Li le assholes…” she stares o like she’s plo ng someone’s demise.

“We’re s ll friends,” I tell Ryke.

“Then why can’t you fucking look at me?”

I’m scared of you. It’s an awful truth. Really, I’m scared of me, but the weight on my chest lessens when I place the guilt somewhere else.

I raise my head, but I only meet Loren Hale’s gaze. He stares straight through me, like he is reaching right into my soul and piecing apart all of my intricate fears. What frightens me most: not knowing what my best friend feels.

I’m about to approach him in the middle of the kitchen and collide with his hard, rigid body. But I don’t have to li a foot.

He walks to me. And he pulls my small frame to him, embracing me with two strong arms, a warm cocoon where my heart begins to slow. I rest my cheek on his chest, his body pressed along mine, and I shut my eyes.

His hand lowers to the small of my back, and he dips his head. His lips to my ear, he whispers, “I’m not going anywhere.” He pauses, an extended one that stops my pulse. “Lil…how aroused are you?” He would’ve checked without asking if we were alone.

I ush and lt my chin up. I whisper quickly, “I’m only aroused by you.”

His face sharpens and he says, “Shhh.”

Why is he shushing me? “It’s true.” My voice shakes.

He kisses the outside of my lips, really tenderly. Where is his head at?

“Lil,” he warns, like I did something wrong. I concentrate and realize I’m pushing my pelvis right up against him, his bulge edging towards my wetness as I hike my leg around him.

I drop my foot, my whole body aming with embarrassment. I cover my face with both my hands. This is one of those days I wish I could erase. Dr. Banning, my therapist, says that everyone has them, but I always play my bad days on loop, tormen ng me for eternity.

“It’s okay, Lil,” he breathes. “Look at me.” He grips my wrists, tearing them away from my face. S ll I ghten my eyes closed, too ashamed…I’d like to vanish again.

Invisibility, kick in. Please.

“I love you,” he says so empathe cally that it tears open my heart. “I understand you. Please hold onto that, Lil.”

He should be angry at me. He should hate how disgus ng I am—what my body is craving. It’s not right.

“Lily,” he forces, cupping my face in both his hands. “Breathe, love.”

I take a deep one, and then I sense a tall masculine body a couple feet behind me. Most likely Connor. He’s not too close, but the longer he stands there, the more my body reacts in ways I dislike. Lo studies all of my muscle cs and spasms. Diagnosing me. I cross my ankles and shut my eyes again, snu ng out every perverted image that I should not have in public or at all.

Why? Why do I have to like things that I shouldn’t?

The heat of two bodies s mulates parts of me that my brain has abandoned. The sensual parts that cares li le about names, rela ons and faces. Just the high of a climax.

Not Connor. I can’t grow wet from him.

This is so wrong.

I cling to Lo, shaking, afraid of myself. I haven’t felt this gross in a while.

His lips fall to my ear at the right moment while he rubs my back. “Shh, Lil.” He pulls me even closer to his body. No space between us. “I’m going to take care of you, love.”

With sex? I wonder. The guilt sinks to a low, hollow place.

“Not with sex,” he says, as though he can read my mind.

“I’msorry,” I mumble together, burying my face in his arm and refusing to acknowledge Rose, Ryke or Connor.

Today is a not-so-good day.

I could have reined myself in, but I slipped o the diving board and belly- opped in the deep end. I know addic ons are up-and-down kind of things, but the downs really, really hurt. At least Lo was wading in the water, there to keep me from drowning this me.

He hasn’t given up on us.

It’s silly to think that’s a possibility anyway. It’s an irra onal fear that I should never let cling to me. He is my soul. I am his. The moment we give up on each other is the moment that neither of us exists.

Lo li s me in a front-piggyback, and he carries me towards the staircase while I clutch him like a koala bear to a tree.

As we leave, I hear Daisy enter the kitchen. “Mom has already planned my birthday.” A long pause before she adds, “We’re taking the yacht out, and everyone’s invited.”

I can barely even concentrate on that future drama when my mind has zeroed in on Loren Hale and only Loren Hale. I need him.

I want him.

I just can’t let myself have all of him tonight. No sex.

But it will be enough. It has to be.

Lo climbs two more stairs before the front door bursts open and bangs against the wall.

He cranes his neck over his shoulder, and every muscle in his arms and abdomen tenses against me. I peek from the crook of his bicep and make direct eye contact with a stern, severe man. Dark brown hair that’s grayed by the temples. A jaw as hard and in mida ng as Ryke Meadows’ and a glower as deathly as Loren Hale’s.

Jonathan Hale is the scariest parts of both his sons.

“Mee ng,” Jonathan Hale says roughly, his voice husky and foreboding. “Now.”

My arousal s ll exists. I can’t just ex nguish it because of Jonathan’s worst ming. So I recognize that I’m in serious trouble.

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER TWELVE

LOREN HALE

I WANT TO FUCKING SCREAM.

At no one in par cular.

If I could, I’d disappear in my bedroom with Lily and try to get her to a be er place than the one she’s at. I hate that she’s anxious, and I hate that she’s scared of herself. And I recognize what just happened—that she became aroused from someone other than me. It’s not a new development. Since she’s been pregnant, she’s go en hot from almost everything.

What’s di erent is that she’s star ng to let her addic on fuck with her mind. A ect our rela onship. I won’t let anything tear us apart. Especially not something we’ve both been gh ng for so long.

“Loren!” my father calls.

I stand on the stairs uneasily, about to drop Lil on her feet, but she spiders my body, terri ed more of herself than of my dad in the living room. A er years of dealing with her sex addic on, I know how to help her, but I can’t respond to him and her at the same me.

“Lo,” she breathes.

“Lil,” I say, cupping her face with one hand and her ass with the other. I force her gaze to mine, and she cuts me o before I can speak.

“I’m only a racted to you. You know that, right?” Fear spikes her voice.

I can feel my face sharpen in aggrava on. Not at her. Just the situa on. I wanted me to take her upstairs and talk to her. “I know, Lil—”

“Loren, come here, now,” my dad interrupts again.

“One second!” I yell back. This is my only moment to get her on the same page as me. “Lil, you know how much you love porn?”

She nods, and I wipe some of her silent tears. My stomach twists the longer she’s upset.

“That’s all this is. You’re turned on by a lot of stu , love. We live with two other couples, and one is into PDA…” I watch her face scrunch as she tries to understand. I gured out that she’d be aroused by the PDA quickly, and I men oned to Connor that I was concerned she’d become scared of Ryke and him.

It’s a small regression, a speed bump.

So we tested it out. He stood behind her for a few seconds. Not even that close. I’ve seen Lily freak, but never about Connor—someone she used to think was gay.

Lily shakes her head repeatedly at me, confusion seeping in her green eyes. “I’m not turned on by your brother,” she whispers with wide eyes, her ngers digging into my shoulders.

“He could’ve been anyone, Lil. Do you understand?” The pain in her eyes—pain for me, thinking she’s hurt me somehow—breaks my heart into too many goddamn pieces. I just want to hold her ghtly un l it’s just us le . No one around us. Drown everything out.

She rubs her eyes. “Ryke is like a porn star?”

I almost laugh, but her chin quivers. “Lil?” My lungs drop.

“I’m not allowed to watch porn,” she says with worry. “So…if everything is like porn, then…”

No. Christ no. “Lil, don’t be afraid of the fucking world, please.” I can’t have her scared to go outside again. I’m screwing this up, really badly. And this isn’t like a failed grade on a test. I am holding my girlfriend’s wellbeing in my hands right now.

“I just…how do I x this?” she asks me.

“LOREN!” my dad calls, like a knife in my gut.

My ngers slide into her straight brown hair and I say, “You just have to accept that what you feel is okay.”

Tears squeeze out of her eyes. “Lo…” Her throat bobs. “…it doesn’t feel okay.”

I kiss her cheek, and I whisper, “A er we get done talking to my dad, I’m going to show you that it is.”

“LOREN!”

“Give him a fucking break,” Ryke retorts downstairs.

My veins pulse hard. I trust that if I leave her alone, she won’t touch herself. But in this moment, I don’t want her to face a challenge that she’s already hurdled y million fucking mes. It’s one that’s never easy, and

she doesn’t need to prove herself a er an agonizing hour.

I’d rather her not be in pain at all. That means I enable her and have sex. I can’t do that. I have to se le for somewhere in the middle of pain and ecstasy. Between a high and a low.

It sounds easier nding that place than it really is.

I bring her downstairs with me, carrying her in a front-piggyback. When we enter the living room, the replace is lit, and outside the fogged windows, snow falls. The air is strained, especially as Ryke and my father stay standing while Daisy dgets on the suede loveseat, crossing and uncrossing her long legs.

I sit on the couch with Lily, and my father scru nizes her for too many seconds.

“You could have called,” I tell him, “or texted me.” None of us needed a spontaneous mee ng with him. Before, we had all worked up to it.

“But I didn’t. Shit happens every day that you can’t prepare for, Loren,” he says, like I’m not familiar with that.

I’ve walked through life with a blindfold, hoping I didn’t crash into things, some mes praying that I did. Prepara on has never been my thing. My life is a “toss this dart at me” kind of random. Let’s see which body part it pierces.

My dad disinterestedly inspects hardbacks on a tall wooden shelf, all belonging to Rose and Connor. “Think of this as a life lesson,” he says.

My jaw cs in irrita on. “Like I need any more of those.”

I wait for the, don’t be a li le shit.

He buries his sts in the pockets of his black slacks, no whiskey in hand. And he faces the couch. “You’re probably right.” No insult for me. I lean back in surprise. He’s been sober for almost four months. It s ll seems like a dream, but these moments make it more real.

I rub Lily’s shoulders, but she squeezes her thighs around my waist. I’d rather not move her o my lap, but I’m afraid she’s going to grind on me. I scoot her onto the cushion, and I toss a purple blanket over her. She adjusts so her heel digs into the spot between her legs.

Christ, Lil.

My dad’s gaze dri s over to the foyer. “This is just between the four of us.”

“I’ve never fought with you about anything,” Connor says easily, Rose by his side. “Let’s not change that.” It sounds like a threat.

I’ve never seen anyone really hold the same power in a room as my father. Lily’s dad is submissive towards Jonathan. So , is what my dad calls him. And Connor has always played their game with a fake smile and a rm handshake.

This is di erent.

My father sizes him up, a literal once-over from head to toe.

Ryke says, “Let them fucking stay.”

Rose has already se led in a Queen Anne chair next to me, crossing her ankles, Connor standing beside the armrest.

My dad keeps his a en on on Connor. “I understand why you like Ryke. What’d you call him the other day? Your a ack dog.”

Ryke ips Connor o without mee ng his eyes, but it’s in jest. He’s said that plenty of mes to his face.

“I like him all the same,” Connor says.

“But what’s Loren to you?” my dad asks. He thinks he’s poking at a weak spot of Connor’s, but he’s doing a poor job. He can’t break the guy. He’s built of tanium or some sort of indestruc ble alien material. Like Superman.

I open my mouth to tell my dad to leave him alone.

But he con nues, “Lo’s a college dropout, has failed at every athle c sport he’s ever tried.” My blood runs cold, and Lily suddenly clutches my hand, trying to comfort me. I can’t move. “He’s not smart or strong. Frankly, he’s a goddamn liability. So what use is he to you?” Through all these statements, I want to believe my dad is trying to protect me from Connor. Right? Like Ryke once did.

Connor is a user, he’s saying.

My brows knot. Yeah, I know this about Connor.

“He’s my best friend,” Connor says without a beat. “I enjoy his company.”

“Do you?” My dad glares, one that could shrivel a man.

Connor never backs down. “I know what you’re implying, and you should stop.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Yes,” Connor says, pokerfaced. Honestly, it’s terrifying—not being able to see his emo ons.

“I’m not here to ruin you, Connor, but if you stand in my way, I will. Unlike you, I’m a man with very li le to lose.”

“Jonathan,” Rose suddenly says, her eyes ery. And it’s like my dad just recognizes her si ng right there. “You bring my husband down, you bring me down. We’re staying right here.” She might as well have said: we’re in the inner fucking circle, bitch. No one is pushing us out.

My dad grinds his teeth in distaste.

Connor won this.

Rose is related to Greg Calloway. Greg is Jonathan’s best friend. As a result, he’d never hurt Rose.

His eyes icker up to Connor. “You aligned yourself fucking well. If I had a glass of bourbon, I’d cheers to you.”

“I’m glad you don’t,” Connor says. I wait for him to add a smartass response, but he holds back this me. Or maybe it’s the literal truth. I’ll never know. With Connor, it’s hard to discern these things unless you’re in his head.

Ryke stays standing with Connor, and my dad addresses the en re room, though his gaze lands on me and Lil the most. He starts pacing in front of the replace. His hands now on his hips. Then on the back of his neck. He rubs his ngers together like he’s missing his glass of liquor.

My thoughts scramble. I just don’t see what this could be about—

“You four.” He suddenly stops pacing and mo ons between Ryke, Daisy, Lily and me, appraising us. Like he’s tallying our worth. When his eyes land on me, they actually redden. “One of you needs to grow the fuck up. I don’t care which one of you it is, but it has to happen.”

A noise between pain and laughter catches my throat. “What are you even talking about?”

My dad says, “Open your goddamn ears, Loren.”

I grimace. “Right, I don’t understand anything. Because I’m not smart enough or strong enough, because I can’t hit a homerun or make a touchdown, I can’t comprehend sentences and words.” I give him a half-smile that hurts my face.

“Clearly you’re not stupid. You just like being a pain in my ass.” His broad shoulders lock, and he xes his suit and checks his watch. Like he’s running out of me. He addresses the four of us again. “In the media, you all are represented about equally heinously. Now I think you’re all beau ful li le shits, but my opinion really doesn’t ma er.” He digs into his pocket and pulls out a creased paper with co ee stains.

The only one who doesn’t look confused is my dad—the one with all the answers.

“There are some people whose opinions do ma er.” He reads o the paper. “In a group of fourteen—ten men and four women, average age forty-two—every single goddamn female found Ryke Meadows, my eldest son, vulgar, aggressive, threatening, and I quote, ‘a hazard to children everywhere.’”

“What the fuck are you reading?” Ryke asks.

Our dad ashes the paper at us, and instead of typed sentences, all I see are pen scribbles. “My notes,” he clari es. “Five men labeled you as a work-in-progress. The other ve saw no silver lining with you. And a seventy- ve-year-old said, I quote, ‘if he spits in the face of a cameraman, what’s to say he wouldn’t spit in our faces?’ A wise statement.”

My pulse is racing. I keep shaking my head.

No one interrupts him. He focuses now on my brother’s girlfriend, Lily’s li le sister, someone who I wish was far away from my dad. “Daisy Calloway, daughter of a respected entrepreneur. Every female said you’re too young, too immature, and too reckless. The men, however, found you to be charming, alluring, and presentable.” My dad looks up from the paper. “I don’t take stock in their opinions since they were swayed by their dicks.”

Daisy’s mouth falls.

Ryke is fuming, steam prac cally rising o his skin.

I’m too stunned and caught o guard. I scratch the back of my neck that heats.

Before my brother actually charges forward—which is nearing a possibility—our dad raises his hands in defense. “Moving on to Lily Calloway.” Shit. I clasp Lily’s knee beneath the blanket. She’s unmoving.

“You don’t need to read what the public thinks of her,” I snap at him. “She gets it.” We’ve all heard everything before.

He pushes his nger at the paper. “These fourteen people aren’t the en re public. It’s a frac on, and they’re important.” He con nues reading from his notes, “Lily Calloway has sexual rela ons with two of my sons at once—as stated by ve of fourteen. The women like that you’re pregnant, but they nd you shy, impersonal and awkward on camera. Three men appeared to admire your Princeton undergraduate degree, while the rest thought it was insigni cant. One woman said, and I quote, ‘she is the most popular Calloway but also the most unpopular’ which is ridiculous but true.”

Lily has the most nega ve press, but as a couple, we have the biggest fanbase because of the way Princesses of Philly edited us. So I get that comment. What I don’t understand is the point to this whole charade.

My father suddenly spins to me. I freeze as he says, “Loren Hale, my second-born son…” His shoulders slacken, and when his eyes icker to mine, I see more admira on in them, more love. “…all fourteen were rst scared to cri cize you in front of me, but I goaded them into doing it.”

“Wait,” I frown. “You know these people, personally?” For some reason, I thought they were a random test group. Like someone asked pedestrians on the street their opinions about us.

“Of course I do,” he says. “All fourteen make up the Board of Directors for Hale Co.”

I stare o , suddenly realizing what this may be about. No, it can’t…

He con nues while my head rolls, “Loren Hale is not as big of a hothead as Ryke Meadows…They were really going easy on you at rst.” He skims the paper. “The majority found you to be ‘angry-looking’ which is a stupid li le adjec ve. The women thought you came across though ul and caring towards your girlfriend, but they were worried if you were a team player. You are generally sympathe c in the media, being my bastard child, though you appear stando sh when it concerns Hale Co.—which worries all of them. It’s why I’m here.”

His eyes it up to mine again.

And the answer that we’ve all wanted is about to nally come.

“I’m socially and corporately tainted since the…rumors about you and me.”

He can’t say it.

The molesta on rumors. False accusa ons about my dad touching me when I was a kid. There will always be skep cs believing they were true, no ma er how much evidence crops up advoca ng against it. No ma er how hard we scream, people s ll won’t believe us. It’s what makes me sick most of the me.

“Stocks have dropped. Hale Co. isn’t looking good, and the board is pressuring me to not only name an heir but to hand the company o . I can’t represent it anymore. But I refuse to pass Hale Co. to some random, white-collared li le shit. It’s going to one of you four beau ful li le shits and staying in the family.”

He’s been si ng on this for weeks, months maybe. The board is forcing him to step down, and I can’t even wrap my head around stepping up. I have a comic book business. I’m about to have a baby. Lily is hormonal and star ng to regress. I’ve been sober for only four months since the last me I relapsed.

Hale Co. is a mul -billion dollar company. And I s ll feel like a li le kid playing grown-up.

“If no one is going to say anything,” my dad starts again, “then I’ll go on. You need to impress the board, not me. They can vote you out at any

me, so you have to earn their respect. But they will accept one of you,

guide you, train you. This, I know. Hale Co. is a family company, something my father passed to me, and they appreciate that. It’s a goddamn good marke ng tool.”

Ryke points at Daisy on the loveseat. “She’s not my fucking wife, so keep her out of this.”

“I needed to give the board some op ons. She was one of the names brought up due to her a lia on with Fizzle. And if she means something to you, then she means something to me and the Hale legacy. If you don’t fucking marry her, then she’s s ll a goddamn Calloway.”

A rock is in my throat, but I somehow clear it to ask, “Is the board choosing who takes over or are we?”

“The board will decide. You’ll a end func ons with them, mee ngs, and when they choose, you have to be willing to sign the papers and commit. If you don’t, the company is no longer in our family’s control, and we’ll lose a substan al number of shares.”

I didn’t think that my dad would turn my world upside down again. Not like this. It’s a life change for one of us.

Ryke just keeps shaking his head over and over.

“Ryke, I’ll be ne,” 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 le ng you do the same for my dad.” He turns back to Jonathan. “I’ll go through with the mee ngs, 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 s ll required to a end the mee ngs.”

Ryke’s eyes ash 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 t. 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, a er 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 o in a daze, but her palms are at 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 mes 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 ares. “You’ll fucking hate this job too. You’ll be inside a building, in a cubicle, all fucking day, Dais.”

“It’s an o ce,” 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 a en on 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 o 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 responsibili es that will become mine. It all rests right on top of Halway Comics, Superheroes & Scones, my child, and our addic ons.

“No,” Connor and Rose say in unison, both of them glaring at me for even o ering.

But my dad is on cloud nine. I’ve never seen him smile like that, his pride overwhelming, and the foreign sen ment 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.

I understand. This is my legacy—what I was always supposed to do in the end. Everything has led here.

Lily suddenly chimes in, “He has a business already. He doesn’t have

me for anything else.”

It’s true.

“Managers, sta ,” my father emphasizes. “He can leave Halway Comics in good hands, and Superheroes & Scones is prac cally running itself.”

I shoot him a sharp look. “Lily does a lot—”

He cuts me o , “I expect Lily to put her best e ort in the running too.”

He can’t be serious. “She’s pregnant,” I say with edge.

He outstretches his arms. “It’s a baby product company. There is no be er me for her to be involved than now. And when she gives birth, she can bring Maxof to some product tes ng.”

“Maximo ,” everyone corrects him.

“Get used to that.” He scowls and searches the living room with his daggered gaze. S ll no liquor cart. Sorry, Dad. “Not everyone will understand the things that you do.”

Lily sits straighter. “I’ll do it.”

“Lily.” I shake my head. “No.” The last thing that she needs is more anxiety.

She says, “Be er me than you.”

“No,” I cringe, realizing exactly how Ryke just felt. I clench my teeth harder than before, more pissed now. I don’t want the girls at Hale Co. I don’t want this life for them.

They were free.

Weren’t they?

“Both of you are self-sabotaging,” I snap at Daisy and Lily.

“No,” they reply adamantly.

I’m lying on the tracks of a train—le ng it speed over me and just hoping that I’m not swept up in the momentum. It’s now that I recognize what will happen.

We’re all agreeing to my father’s proposi on for each other. No one will back down anymore.

I was indebted to my dad the moment he chose to let me live and enter this world. I thought I proved myself to him, but this future has been here all along, a path that I knew I’d meet at some point. The suit and e, the briefcase with the Hale Co. logo.

It’s mine to take.

No one else should.

But everyone will ght for it. I can already see the wheels spinning in my brother’s mind. His constricted muscles and the shake of his head that says back down, let me have it.

Ryke would endure hell for eternity if it meant that I could go to heaven.

Once upon a me, I think I would’ve let him. Not anymore.

He deserves his paradise. So I’ll ght against my brother. I’ll ght against Lily and Daisy for this posi on. The winner is the loser.

And this cage has my name on it.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

LOREN HALE

“THIS IS IT?” I ask Ryke as he carries down Daisy’s du el bag. Rose has a

ve-piece suitcase stacked by the door along with the rest of our luggage

for the yacht trip.

“That’s it.” He tosses the du el on the pile. The girls are ea ng breakfast while we haul everything to the car. “How’s Lily?” Ryke asks me in the foyer.

Connor abruptly nishes tex ng and straightens up o the wall.

“She’s ne,” I say vaguely. It’s been a couple days since my dad unleashed the news about Hale Co., and a erwards, I held Lily in my arms all night and tried to distract her with a Harry Po er marathon—something that wouldn’t arouse her.

I think I said no only two mes before she rolled away from me and tried to ght her compulsions. I have my fair share of ups and downs, but it’ll always be harder watching Lily hit a low than going through my own. Watching someone you love in pain—and not being able to x it—it’s agony that I don’t wish on anyone.

“Have you had sex?” Connor asks while Ryke slips on his shoes, about to go for a short run with me. He bends down to e the laces.

“Have you?” I retort. Connor knows the rules now. I’m not sharing details about my sex life without something in return.

Connor cups a mug of co ee. “She woke up to me thrus ng inside of her. So I’d say yes.”

My brows rise at that image. Jesus.

S ll crouched, Ryke gapes at Connor. “You didn’t really fuck her while she was asleep.”

“She woke up a couple seconds a er I pushed into her, which is the point.” He sips his co ee and watches Ryke’s expression darken. “Heel, boy,” Connor banters.

I smile wide, even as Ryke stands an inch taller than me. Now he’s closer to Connor’s height than before. “Fucking hilarious.”

“I thought so,” Connor grins and sets his mug on an end table by the door. “I just know what my wife loves. If Daisy was into it, you’d do it too.” I’ve never had sex with Lily like that—and honestly, I don’t want to put the idea in her head. It’s be er if she doesn’t expect it.

We’ve taken small steps throughout the years, like public sex. Her therapist actually approved of it—though she scolded us for lying in the

rst place and not admi ng that we’d been doing it long before.

We were in the wrong for the lies. I think we both recognized that.

Now we’re free of them again.

Ryke stretches his arm over his shoulder and lowers his voice. “Daisy would freak out if I fucked her while she was half asleep,” he tells us. “She’d think I was someone who broke into the house…” He can’t nish the rest, but his face twists. She’d think he was raping her.

I cringe. “She has some issues.”

Ryke glares at me.

I raise my hands. “I meant that in a nice way.” Though my sharp tone didn’t help.

“Did you have sex last night?” Connor asks again, rever ng back to the original topic. Me. Lily. Her addic on. It’s an every-week conversa on. It doesn’t aggravate me as much as it used to—not when they share too.

“Yeah,” I say. “We waited twenty-four hours a er she was really bad.” She only came once and then she stopped herself, a level of control that I worried she’d never reach.

“You’re smiling,” Connor notes.

“Must have been good,” Ryke says, dropping his arm.

“It was.” But for a di erent reason than they might think. “Ready?” I ask Ryke, opening the door. He nods and as the February cold blows through, I pull my jacket hood over my head, snow lightly falling from the sky.

Ryke steps out of the doorway rst, and a squishing noise freezes my bones. “Dickfuckers,” Ryke curses.

“I thought we were banning that curse word from everyone’s vocabulary?” Connor asks as he pushes the door further open so he can see what happened.

“Shit,” I say and then laugh. Literally. My older brother just stepped into a pile of crap in a brown paper bag.

Connor laughs as Ryke shakes his foot, like that’ll get it o . “There are just too many responses to this.”

“Shut the fuck up, Cobalt,” Ryke retorts.

“Please, this can’t be the rst me you’ve been in mate with shit.” Connor rubs his lips to keep from smiling so much, but he can’t stop laughing. I hold onto the door frame, my side cramping while Ryke ashes his middle nger.

“Fuck o ,” Ryke groans and li s his foot up with disgust. “Fucking A. I’m going to kill them.” The sole of his shoe is most de nitely covered in shit. And it must’ve been the teenagers down the street. They aren’t nished with their pranks.

Great.

My laughter fades as I remember what happened with the paintball guns and the note a ached to the brick.

Ryke is about to scrape his shoe on the brick stairs, and Connor grabs his shoulder to stop him. “Just toss your shoe in a doggy bag.”

“Connor, I’m not—”

“Jokes aside, I’m serious,” he says. “Don’t smear it on the stairs.” He cau ously looks over his shoulder and then back to us. “Rose doesn’t need the stress before the trip.”

“I’ll clean the porch,” I o er, just praying that they really did use dog shit.

“I got it,” Ryke says, taking o his running shoe and disappearing inside for cleaning supplies.

I crane my neck and try to spot any sprin ng teenager, but the long road is deserted this morning. Quiet and slick with a layer of snow and ice. I see my breath plume in the chilly air.

No one has brought up Hale Co.’s future since my dad was here. I try to mentally put it on the backburner so this trip won’t be brutal. I should do the same with the teenagers down the street, but doubt enters me.

“What if they don’t stop?” I ask Connor. What if it gets worse than this?

He’s silent, and I turn my head to catch his features. He’s staring through me, into me, seeing my fears because I spot them in his deep blue eyes, re ec ng back at me.

“Then they don’t stop,” he says easily. Like it’s nothing.

It is something though. “We’re going to have children in this house soon.”

“They’re bored teenagers,” he reminds me. “The more a en on we give them, the more likely they’ll return. We just have to be pa ent. I know it’s hard for you…but you have to ignore the impulse that says confront them.”

I nod, staring xedly at the ground. He’s right.

It’s a wai ng game.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LILY CALLOWAY

THE SWELL of the ocean sways the yacht unstably, and I clamp onto the dresser in our cabin, steadying myself. Puerto Vallarta, Mexico has been nice to me up un l now. No sunburns on day one, no seasickness, and very li le judgment from my parents.

Though I took a ny peek at the tabloids.

They weren’t kind.

The last poll was a blow to my con dence. Is Lily Calloway t to be a mother? The gossip site accompanied this headline with a picture of me bending down on the yacht deck. I dropped my sunglasses earlier, and a stealthy cameraman on a tugboat caught me at the worst angle. Ryke was behind me. Lo was in front of me.

It looked bad. And the poll results aren’t much be er:

Yes: 36%

No: 64%

It’s hard to stay posi ve when the world doesn’t even have faith in you.

Good things have an expira on date.

Now the ocean has decided to rebel against gravity. The boat teeters and I throw my gangly arms around the dresser, hugging an inanimate object for dear life.

I. Will. Not. Fall.

I shut my eyes ghtly. What if we’re sinking? I forgot to read about emergency exits and life jackets and things that Rose would’ve most de nitely prepared for.

Maybe I do deserve that sixty-four percent skep cism.

I already suck at being a mom, and the baby isn’t even out of my body yet.

A hand brushes my back. “Lil, the boat isn’t rocking that badly,” Lo coaxes.

My eyes snap open. Oh. We’re seemingly level. “It’s an illusion,” I tell him. “A trick. Next thing you know a boggart will come out of these drawers.” Boggarts are kind of cool in the Harry Po er world. It’s de nitely an excuse to use a Patronus spell.

Lo is trying hard not to smile, but his cheeks dimple. “There’s a problem, Lil. Neither of us are wizards.”

I frown in distress. “But we have some sort of superpower,” I say. “They just haven’t kicked in yet.” He opens his mouth, but I really can’t handle any cynics right now. I want to believe we’re magical. “Shhh, it’s going to happen this weekend. I can feel it.” And then the boat wobbles, and I cling harder to the dresser. “I forgot to read about emergency exits,” I tell him. “If the boat sinks—”

“I have you, love.” He slices through my panic, swooping his arm around my hips in the coziest Loren Hale embrace. He leans my back against the hardness of his chest, and my pulse begins to slow, my head whirling.

My ngers slip o the dresser in a single breath, and then he spins me around, con dence in his hypno c amber eyes. His gaze relaxes any alarm, and my bones melt to a content stasis. He cups my face, and my body responds by curving into him.

I skim his features with me culousness, etching the sharp lines of his jaw, those cheekbones. And the way his chest falls in a heavy, languid rhythm. My soul swells at the look behind his eyes, at the resolute, unbending expression he carries.

Loren Hale is ice.

Resilient isn’t a word a ached to him. Beneath re, he loses. Ryke is the one who outlasts him. He’s stone.

But there is something within Lo, right now, that de es this. I reach out, my nger ps grazing his smooth skin along his cheek, brushing his parted lips.

A feeling swirls inside of me—one where you know someone all your life, but in a singular moment they look strangely di erent. Like you’re unearthing a fragment of them that has never surfaced or been touched before.

I see it—a piece of him uncloaked and unburied that has been hiding all this me. Strength that he never realized he had. My hand is magne cally drawn to his features, dri ing to his neck.

He smiles through his eyes. “You don’t look unsteady anymore.”

So ly, I say, “You’re a man.”

His lips rise. “You’re just now realizing this, Lily?” He licks his bo om one. It blazes my skin.

“It’s just…you seem older,” I breathe. Stronger. Able to withstand things that the world throws at him.

“Time will do that,” he murmurs, his mouth so very close to mine. Kiss me.

“No,” I whisper. “It’s not me. It’s something else.” I inhale like our bodies have bound together, melded to him with no plan to separate.

His eyes glow with realiza on, sensing what I mean. He’s not frightened of me or my addic on or his own. He has rebuilt every ounce of self-worth that his father took from him.

He leans close. Kiss me. But his lips breeze past my cheek and stop at the hollow of my ear. “You remember how it all began?” His hands descend to my hips, diving towards my thighs. My ngers scrape along his toned shoulders, a sound ckling my throat.

I gather my breath to ask, “Me and you?” How we began. He guides me somewhere, my feet dazedly following his lead. And the backs of my legs hit the edge of the bed. A nau cal comforter with ny anchors printed across.

“You and me,” he con rms.

I wrack my brain for the me, place and date, my brows scrunching. “We were ve…or six, right?” I should know the moment, but there are just so many that belong to Loren Hale. Picking out the rst one would take decades.

“No, not as friends, Lil.” He li s underneath my arms and sets me perfectly on the bed. He leans my back against the so ma ress, and he hovers over me, his legs tangling with mine. Those amber eyes puncture straight through my skin. And into my heart. “You remember how we began? Us.”

Us…

The memory strikes me powerfully, and tears suddenly begin to brim. We were on my parent’s yacht. This yacht. This room. Almost four years ago. We were both twenty and broken and struggling to nd a semblance of peace. And then he u ered the words that changed everything.

Let me try to be enough for you.

“You remember,” Lo breathes, his thumb brushing a stray tear.

“It was here.” My voice is a whisper.

He nods. “It was here.” His hypno c expression pulls me into him, my pelvis bucking against his. He never breaks his soul-bearing gaze from mine. “Back then,” he says, “I was so addicted to you.” He truly smiles, a very, very rare one. “I s ll am.”

I am crying, ooded with emo ons that cannot t within my body. They explode outside of me—and I don’t care to wipe them away. I just oat through this bliss and let Loren Hale take me.

His ngers dip beneath my stretchy sweat shorts, and he tugs at the elas c, lowering them to my calves and burning my core with the slow, slow movement. “Back then, I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

My heart hammers in my ears. To think of a me where we weren’t even together, when I was no one’s girlfriend—it’s an ancient, dark era.

“And then I fucked you,” he states ma er-of-factly.

He spreads my legs open and stands at the foot of the bed. Then he pulls me so my bo om is half on the ma ress, half-o , and his semi-hard cock, through his jeans, puts pressure on a pulsing place of mine. My legs in his possession. I wonder if he can feel how wet I am—or if he can feel my heat drumming against him, craving him.

“I…I remember,” I stammer, losing control of my vocabulary.

He pauses for a brief second, his eyes traversing across my body in hot waves. “This is going to be a million mes be er than that.”

“Whaa…” I can’t even nish my statement. The declara on arches my back, and I try to grind against him. Closer. But he has my legs hostage, my cheeks salty and tear-streaked. I am a mess, and the way Lo is staring at me, I might actually be a sexy mess too.

He suddenly drops to his knees. Oh my God. And then he li s my legs over his shoulders. Yesyesyes.

I have no strength to prop my body, but I lt my head at the right angle, gaining a visual. His eyes lock to mine as he places a tender kiss on the inside of my thigh. My mouth is permanently ajar, and a breathy sound emerges.

“Lo,” I cry.

The feather light kisses con nue, nearing the aching spot. He has to be only an inch away when he draws back. No!

He takes his sweet me lowering my pan es to my ankles, shi ing my legs again, and then he shes them o my feet and tosses them aside. He hikes my legs back over his shoulders, and the image makes me squirm. I need him.

I want him.

Right inside.

“Lo.”

“I’m going to make you come,” he says with that Loren Hale sharp tone, deathly and alluring, “so slowly.” Yes. I cry in want, so ready, and his lips skim my leg, his breath warm and his teasing toxic. In the best possible way.

His hands rub against the so esh of my thighs. I reach out, placing my palms on top of them, hoping to guide them between my legs, but instead, they rise up to my ribs. Underneath my co on shirt, up to my breasts.

Oh my God. He squeezes, his thumbs icking my tender nipples. “I need you,” I tell him, tears creasing my eyes again. Only these are from pleasure that he stretches out in in nite frequencies.

Kiss me right there. But he waits longer. He says, “I have a present for you.”

Orgasms, I think. The gi is the best orgasm of my life. “I’ve been good,” I remind him. In my recent hiccups, I came back strong and never drowned in the compulsive deep end of sex.

His smile pulls his lips. “You’ve been great.”

My mind dizzies. “Great is be er than good.” The spot clenches, my head l ng back. I’m going to come before he even gives me anything. “Lo!” I grip his forearms for support, my feet curving and my legs squirming on his shoulders.

He clutches my waist now, holding me steady. “Relax for me, Lil,” he says in a sweetly edged voice. “No clenching.”

I want to see how hard he is. I want him inside of me. Nothing else computes in my brain.

His head dips out of sight, and I feel his tongue, my legs twitching in response. He ghtens his hold on one of them, s ll rmly in his care.

Oxygen whooshes from my lungs as he sucks and licks, caressing the most sensi ve of nerves with his mouth. My eyes roll back, and no sound leaves as I come. Higher than high.

I don’t even sense my body descending; I stay suspended in this climax. More. The response is normal for me.

I always want more.

And Lo knows this silent plea.

He gives me oral almost every day, but I recognize the di erence the moment something hard presses against my other entrance. Oh my God. Please, yes.

My eyes burn with tears. “Lo,” I cry. Pleasepleaseplease let this be true and not in my mind. I constrict in excitement and impulse, and then I wince at the pressure. Oh God.

His lips leave me, and I groan into the comforter.

“Relax, love,” he reminds me.

We’ve had anal sex enough that I should know not to ghten so much, but my body responded on its own. Lo massages my thigh again, s rring my arousal. My mind is a mixer right now, blended with lust and longings.

Our doctor advised against anal sex while I’m pregnant, a restric on that’s le me more than bummed. Which is why I ask, “Are you using your

ngers?”

“No,” he says. And his eyes carry the answer.

My eyes widen, my jaw unhinging. Sex toys. Oh my God. I ngle all over, imagining something long and hard inside of me, even though it’s most likely just a small plug. “Are we allowed?” I whisper.

“I asked your Ob/Gyn. She said yes.”

“Don’t move,” I blurt out. “Or I mean, move but…don’t take it out, okay?” Fear surfaces—fear of this ending too soon.

“Shhh, Lil,” he says. “Breathe slowly.”

I can feel my ribcage ju ng out with these sporadic inhales. I lie back more and shut my eyes. He’s going to ll me both places, at the same me. It’s a craving that I’ve wanted sa ated for a while.

I try to relax my muscles, and his kisses begin again, so and sweet, building up my need. I throb for a harder, deeper entry. And then he pushes on the toy, the pressure and sensa ons blind me. Yes. “Lo,” I plead.

He rises to his feet, and seconds pass as he steps out of his jeans and black boxer-briefs. He’s harder than I even pictured, erect and as wan ng as me. He pauses while I stare xatedly at his long cock. Inside now, I mentally command. Inside now.

“Lil,” he chokes, his arousal sweeping over his features.

I am full behind. I can’t even imagine being full in the front too. I just haven’t had it in so so long. Years. “Harder,” I murmur. He hasn’t even pushed into me yet.

He’s too far away to hold. He’s standing with my legs wrapped around his waist, my bo om o the ma ress, while I’m lying. So I clutch the comforter in one hand and my breast with the other.

“Harder,” I plead, his cock right there. I’m too exhausted from climaxing once already to thrust forward into him. He has most of the control, and that thought bridges me to a ho er, sweltering place. “Lo.”

And then he pounds right into me, lling me hard. I am a goner. My body quakes, and he thrusts in melodic, deep rhythms that bring me to a new planet. A high-pitched gasp escapes my lips every me he slams in.

He rests one knee on the edge of the bed, and then another, climbing onto it and pulling my body up towards the pillow. His forearm sets beside my head, and he kisses the outside of my lips. Then he says, “Open.”

I understand his request. I open my eyes, and he stares right into me as he thrusts. I can’t corral the noises I make. I’m happy he’s closer, nearer, so I can clutch onto his back and hold him to me.

I clench so hard that he only can go in and not out. It’s a long-las ng euphoria. My head lolls and my eyes u er as the high hits me. My spine arches, toes curling. A shiver runs through the length of my legs and all the blissfulness in the world rains down on me.

I feel like I’ve just experienced sex and all its glory for the rst me.

A sheen of sweat coats his shoulders, chest and forehead, our breath ragged. He is grinning, his eyes full of knowing.

Yes, Loren Hale.

You are enough for me.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

LILY CALLOWAY

DAISY PASSES me the sunscreen in the living room area of the yacht. Our parents, Jonathan Hale, and his plus one seclude themselves on sofas in the bow. I’ve no ced some uncomfortable tension during breakfast between them and us. My dad silently grabbed a bagel and went to the bow without a word. My mom followed quick a er.

“What happened last night?” I ask everyone. Daisy rubs sunscreen on her long legs while Rose ips through a magazine at the glass table, Poppy sipping a mojito next to her. Rose shoots her looks for drinking a fruity alcoholic drink in her midst. I’m not so sad about the lack of alcohol with my pregnancy. I never drank much before it, but Rose does like her bloody marys, mimosas and red wine.

“Didn’t you hear the yelling?” Poppy asks me, adjus ng her oppy straw hat.

“There was yelling?” My eyes cartoonishly pop out of my head. My orgasm was so supreme that it blocked out all other surrounding noises. Wow.

Pregnancy has its perks, but my horniness is both amazing and terrifying. Case in point, just remembering last night throbs my clit, blood rushing down there.

“Everyone should just forget it ever happened,” Rose says uninterestedly.

“That’s easy since I have no idea what it is,” I mu er, squir ng sunscreen on my palm. It makes a far ng noise, and I whip my head around in embarrassment, hoping no one heard.

Daisy is smiling, though it’s a kind of smile that makes me feel be er. “Dad just got mad at me,” she says. “It’s my fault, anyway.”

Rose snorts. “That’s inaccurate.”

“Rose is right,” Poppy chimes in. “He’s let you model in New York for years. He can’t be upset now just because he sees how grown up you are.”

“It’s rude,” Rose adds icily.

“It’s not fair to you,” Poppy rephrases in a warmer, so er tone.

Okay, the older sister support system is in check—minus me. I raise my hands, one of my arms s ll white with sunscreen. “What happened? Really?” I wonder if this is bad. Sex le me out of the loop again, but maybe this is di erent. That kind of sex was the best kind I’ve ever had. It can’t be wrong.

Rose fans herself with her magazine, but Poppy beats her to the answer. “Dad learned that Ryke and Daisy were sharing a cabin. He said they weren’t married or engaged, and he wanted them separated.”

I frown. “Wait…” I shake my head. “That doesn’t make sense. They’ve let Lo and me share a cabin since we were teenagers.”

Rose lts her head at me like I need to tap into my brain.

Oh. “It’s Lo,” I realize. He’s always the excep on. Well, and Connor was too. Poppy’s husband, Samuel Stokes, never got away with anything at

rst. He had to earn his way into my dad’s good graces, and apparently

Ryke does too.

“Ryke was angry,” Poppy provides more details.

“He was pissed,” Rose clari es. I imagine his blood vessels ready to pop, his veins protruding in his biceps and forearms.

“Doesn’t Dad know that you two live together?” I ask Daisy.

She ghtens the straps of her neon green bikini and shakes her head. “No. He assumed we were staying in di erent rooms, like during Princesses of Philly.”

Oh my God. My eyes are like saucers. This is really bad then. I picture my docile father growing horns towards Ryke. He probably thinks Ryke “de owered” his youngest daughter. Not…exactly the case. “Did Ryke back down?”

“He tried as much as he could,” Daisy says. “But Dad was basically a acking him.”

The boat sways a bit, and Rose loses focus on the conversa on, her skin paling. She shuts her eyes for a long, unsteady moment. It’s hard to tell when Rose is sick, but she’s been making frequent trips to the restroom. Her morning sickness is comba ng her seasickness in a not-so-nice way.

“This boat…” Rose says, drawing out her proclama on. “…is killing me. I am going to slaughter it by the end of this vaca on. And if anyone has anything nega ve…or ra onal to say against me, I will push you overboard.”

I’m not even going to tempt it.

Poppy reverts to the subject at hand. “I thought Ryke did a great job s cking up for himself and Daisy. He told Dad what everyone else wanted to say.” I’m guessing that bit about Daisy being grown up. “With probably too many curse words,” Poppy adds. “But Dad started yelling rst.”

My mouth drops. “What…?”

“He was really mad,” Daisy reminds me.

“Yeah but…” That’s crazy. I try to recall a single me where my dad raised his voice.

O my confusion and shock, Poppy says, “He used to get so worked up over Sam that he’d start yelling. He’s just worried about guys taking advantage of us.”

Oh. My rela onship with my dad is so dissimilar from my sisters’. He treated me more like his son than his daughter, le ng me do what I pleased since he trusted Lo so much. I don’t think he ever felt like he had to protect me like he does them.

My dad and I communicate in head nods, shoulder shrugs, and brief smiles.

Since my sex addic on, it took him a while to acknowledge me again. By not telling him my problems, I somehow broke our silent bond, something I didn’t even really see un l my therapist pointed it out. But we’re okay now.

The smiles are back. The shoulder shrugs and shoulder pats happen more o en. We haven’t had any sort of emo onal heart-to-heart, but I’m not looking for one.

“We’re trying not to be disrespec ul,” Daisy explains her situa on with Ryke. “It’s really ne if we stay in separate rooms.”

It’s her birthday. She deserves the orgasm that I had last night. That and more. I wish I could trade with her, but it’s not looking possible.

Color returning to her cheeks, Rose eyes our oldest sister as she sips the mojito. “I hate you,” Rose tells her, her glower drilling holes all over Poppy.

Poppy wipes her mouth with a napkin. “I remember you drinking margaritas while I was pregnant with Maria. So now you know how it feels.”

Rose purses her lips, glaring now at the minty drink. “I bet it tastes horrible.”

“It could be be er,” Poppy says nicely.

“I like you a li le more.”

While they talk, I spot a magazine on a rack by the wall, a shirtless Zac Efron on the cover. I throb again, an ache that grows at the sight of two-dimensional abs. When did the star of High School Musical look like that? Jeez.

I swallow hard, cursing my body. I had to even stop watching Teen Wolf this season for this very reason.

It makes me nervous. Lo tried to explain to me that the world isn’t a porn- lled playground. I don’t need to be frightened of my surroundings, even if everything turns me on. I just need to take deep breaths…I blow one out…and train my mind on di erent things, avoiding carnal xa ons.

My mantra this trip: I refuse to act on my arousal. Unless it’s from Loren fucking Hale.

I nod resolutely.

Now I must disappear and hide this red ush. “I’m heading out,” I tell my sisters. All lathered in sunscreen, I exit through sliding glass doors and step onto the deck that overlooks the yacht’s pool.

I stretch my arms, the a ernoon rays bea ng down on my pale shoulders. Looking at the deck below, I skim the row of lounge chairs absentmindedly and then land on a supreme eight-pack, with long masculine legs.

I freeze and do a literal double-take at the toned body, with muscles that point towards his navy blue swim trunks, the guy’s face blocked from view thanks to the bar.

My hormones do not care about my sanity.

I squeeze my thighs together, hot from more than just the sun. Oh my God. I know every ridge of Loren Hale’s body, and this is not him. I burn with guilt. I would never cheat on him, I remind myself. I need a cold dip in the pool. Stat.

“His body is infuria ng,” Rose suddenly says beside me. I jump in fright.

“When did you…” I trail o as Daisy joins us, shu ng the sliding door. Her yellow cast, with the words Fuck O scrawled in Ryke’s handwri ng, is wrapped in plas c so she can get it wet.

Rose is focused on the guy below, res ng her forearms on the railings, maybe in part to ba le her seasickness. She shouts, “I hope you get a third degree burn and drown!”

What? My brows crinkle, and that’s when the body s rs. Oh no. Oh no. He sits up, bare feet dropping on either side of the lounge chair, and then he leans forward, in plain sight.

Connor Cobalt.

I just got aroused from my sister’s husband.

Someone I’ve never been a racted to like that. I’d like to say that pregnancy is awesome and beau ful, but this part is doing a number on me. I roast in embarrassment, unmoving, a statute on deck.

Connor wears classy sunglasses, a paperback in hand. And his grin widens at Rose. “You’re was ng your hopes on the impossible, darling.”

Rose straightens up and white-knuckles the railing. “I waste nothing more than you do.”

“That’s en rely false…” His gaze falls to her breasts, much larger, even in her black two-piece and sheer cover-up dress. “…but I’ll let it go, this

me.”

“Watch out, Rose,” Lo says, walking onto the pool deck below us, a towel slung over his shoulder. I scan his sculpted torso from hours in the gym, the view more pleasing and less humilia ng. I wish I could send my body an SOS: Loren Hale only! signal. “I heard Connor likes spanking, hard.”

“Just heard?” Connor banters, his grin blinding.

Lo snaps his ngers in mock realiza on. “That’s right, love, I forgot about last night.”

“Impossible,” Connor says. “I’m unforge able.” He winks at Lo, and I exhale loudly at the whole irty male banter. An exhale that belongs to ravenous bedroom Lily 1.0. Not Lily 3.0.

Rose has completely zeroed in on her husband, but her face is clammy with sweat, her skin almost ashen. “Your hand is ge ng nowhere near my ass.” Her threat sounds weak as she queasily rocks back.

Connor’s grin vanishes in a second. “Rose?”

She puts a hand to her mouth and quickly spins to the sliding door.

Connor jolts to his feet, no longer humored. He sprints out of the pool deck, towards the staircase. Rose darts inside the cabin, where she came from. To go puke, most likely.

I can barely process my seesawing emo ons, not when Connor runs across the second- oor deck. More concerned about his wife than anything else. He passes me and Daisy without a glance. And he disappears a er my older sister.

The worst part: I s ll feel hot.

I take a quick look le and catch Daisy scru nizing my beet-red expression. I try to play it cool, relax my arms, and o er her a small smile. She returns it and lightly hip-bumps me. “I know everyone didn’t really have a choice, but I’m happy you’re here,” she says. “Thanks for coming.”

Coming. I am on re, paranoia heightening with the idea that everyone is reading my perverted thoughts. “Happy nineteenth,” I tell her, which I should’ve this morning.

“Thanks.” She smiles brighter. “I’m going to go get a drink from the bar. Do you want a water or anything?”

I shake my head. “I’ll follow you down there though.” We stroll along the skinny outside walkway. I just now recognize the muscle shirt she’s wearing. I bought this one for her birthday: a print of a unicorn prancing in a eld of daises with a rainbow. It reminded me of her, and I was too excited to wait un l this weekend to reveal it. The white fabric covers her bikini.

“What’d Ryke get you?” I ask.

She shrugs and xes her hair into a high bun. “He’s not the gi -giver kind of guy.”

Noooo. He did not forget. Rose texted him twenty di erent threats if he failed to remember Daisy’s birthday present. I only know this because Ryke showed me a picture of a chopped, burnt hot dog that Rose sent him.

Thank goodness produce and meat products haven’t turned me on. I’ve headed to a new horrible low if that happens.

“Ryke would make an excep on for you,” I tell her.

“It’s okay,” she shrugs again. I really can’t tell if it bothers her or not.

And that’s when Ryke climbs the stairs to our walkway, the stairs that we must descend. I’ve been successfully avoiding him since we baked cookies. I don’t want to feel like a gross monster around Ryke, and un l I

gure out how to alter those feelings, I’ve decided to put myself in

situa ons where I can’t have them at all.

Which makes this run-in right now very, very awkward.

I go silent with Daisy, and we come to a sort of stands ll. It’s ten mes worse because Ryke is very tanned and very shirtless. Another set of abs. More muscles that point to swim trunks, this me black ones with blue trim.

I nd a solu on, plan ng my gaze on his feet. Safe. There is nothing I can do about my embarrassed ush at this point. I just have to ignore it.

Ryke breaks the uneasy silence. “I le my sunglasses in the cabin.”

Daisy lets out a mock gasp. “You mean these sunglasses?” She waves his black wayfarers in the air and then puts them on.

I take a peek, a mistake because he gives my li le sister the longest once-over in history of once-overs. My breath feels shallow, and the shame starts rising like molten lava.

“Cute, Calloway.”

I have to get out of here. I’ll submerge my whole body in an ice cold pool. Maybe it’ll rewire my brain. Plan concocted, I step forward to dart away, my concentra on back on the deck.

And then my chest instantly collides with Ryke. I inch back. “Sorry!” I shout nervously, hands raised. I catch a glimpse of him, confusion kno ng his eyebrows.

“Why are you fucking red?”

Oh my God.

“It’s hot out,” Daisy covers for me. She knows very well that this is a di erent sort of hot. And yet, she’s on my side, s cking up for me—it’s kindness that I love and cherish with all my heart. But guilt sinks low because I’m ushed partly from her boyfriend.

It’s all screwed up.

I shield my face with a sweaty palm. “Yeah, it’s really hot. Imheadingtothepool,” I slur quickly, spinning on my heels to go to the stairs.

“We’re right behind you,” Ryke tells me.

And I suppress a shudder that borders fear (of myself) and something worse.

“Not like that, Lil.” I hear the concern in his voice.

“IknowIknow,” I mu er. I skip a couple steps on my way down to the main deck, and I round the corner towards the pool, tugging on the fabric of my one-piece that molds a very ny baby bump. When the cool blue water comes into view, I ignore Lo on a lounge chairs. Prepared to just spring in.

I channel my inner-dolphin.

Here I go.

I hop and splash into the pool, expec ng the cold to breach my lungs and steal my breath and x everything.

Instead, the water warms my bones.

What. In the world.

I ungracefully surface, spi ng chlorine water out of my mouth, the temperature of a bath. This did not go as planned. I comb my wet hair out of my face and eyes, and I try to heave my body out of the pool. I don’t struggle for too long. Lo squats in front of me and li s underneath my arms, so e ortlessly.

I graze his features, lus ng a er his sheer masculinity. Snap out of it, Lily. I blink quickly, hoping he’ll morph into a monster.

Not so. Loren Hale is striking and gorgeous through and through. If he possesses any monstrous quali es, they’re layered with beauty.

“Why are you so pre y?” I say.

His amber eyes penetrate me. “Just think about how awful I look in the morning.”

I let out a small laugh. “You’re s ll beau ful.”

He li s my chin so I stop staring at his lips. “Lily Calloway,” he breathes, “you’re doing really well. I’m proud of you.” My heart swells.

He knows I’m aroused. He knows how hard it is to snu out these feelings that pop up from almost anything and everything.

Dripping in water, I kiss his nose quickly, showing that I’m able to control this. Somewhat. And I choose the lounge chair next to his, lying down. “If I Jedi mind-trick myself, all will be well,” I tell him with a nod. I shut my eyes to a empt this.

I hear the legs of his lounge chair scrape along the deck. The frame touches mine, and he lies on his towel, close to me but not too close. A perfect non-temp ng distance.

“You should know, Lil,” he says in a low voice, “that every guy on this yacht has the hairiest goddamn feet. It’s nothing but hobbits.”

I smile, my eyes s ll closed. Although Frodo is cute, I’m pro-elves. “Are they all short too?”

“Oh yeah, they barely reach your waist.”

“Except you,” I say, licking my lips.

“I’m not an elf,” he reminds me.

I pop one eye open and turn my head. He’s lying on his back like me. “You’re a wizard—”

“No, Lil,” he whispers. “I’m human.”

I shi on my side, my legs crossed together. I reach out to hold his hand, and he lets me, not scared of enabling. “Do you think our baby will have powers though? Even if we’re human, he could be magical?”

Lo nods determinedly. “De nitely. He’ll be the strongest guy ever.”

“Like Professor Xavier,” I smile at the image. But it fades quickly. “Do you think…do you think he’ll forget about us, if we’re just human and he’s something more?” Beads of water roll down my temple.

Lo’s hand rises to my arm, and he rubs my skin soothingly. The embrace comforts me more than it arouses. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I guess we’ll see.”

Yeah. I guess we will.

I’ve drawn closer to Lo, I realize, my ankle hooked over his, but it’s not a sexual ac on. It’s just a natural one.

WHILE LO GRABS waters from inside, I decide to wade in the pool for longer than a couple seconds this me. I’ve been scrolling through his cellphone. Not the best idea since that picture of me bent over, reaching for sunglasses, has turned into an internet meme. My brows crinkle at the dozens of photoshopped images. There’s one where Ryke grabs me from behind instead of just standing there.

Where I’m reaching for a dildo instead of sunglasses.

Where Loren and Ryke are cropped out and replaced by hot dogs.

It’s awful. Though their photoshop skills are pre y good. I have to give them credit for that.

“Connor,” Rose says, her lounge chair scooted next to his. A paperback perched on his lap, his hand has yet to leave her bare neck. He massages her while she clutches an empty ice bucket. Rose risked vomi ng again to join me outside.

It takes a solid second to realize that Rose commanded him to do something since she’s out of commission. Connor needs no more info to read her well.

He just stretches forward and steals my phone right from me. And then he se les back, his hand returning to Rose like nothing just happened.

“That was mean,” I tell him. “I was doing important research.”

“If I didn’t do it, she would’ve tried,” Connor explains, passing the cell to my sister. “And I don’t want my wife moving around.”

Rose searches through the phone’s history and then gives me a cold look.

I raise my hands out of the pool. “They were hard to avoid.”

“The more you stare at these, the more paranoid you become. If anyone is jumping overboard, it’s me.” She went from slaughtering the boat to drowning herself. I take it that she’s feeling pre y lousy s ll.

Connor ips a page in his book and says something in French.

She replies back, shu ng her eyes ghtly. He pulls her closer to his side, his arm sliding around her shoulders. Hugging her in comfort. He whispers another French word and then kisses her forehead.

I frown, wishing I could understand them. Even with my studying, I can only pick up a few words here and there. I block the sun with my ngers and scru nize the spine on Connor’s book. A smile replaces my frown. It’s C.S. Lewis’ The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.

For Christmas, I gi ed Connor the en re Chronicles of Narnia series. Normal people ask for things they want for Christmas, but Connor asked us to gi him things we like. He consumed Lo’s present—G.R.R. Mar n’s Song of Fire and Ice series—in a ma er of three weeks. Now he must be working on my gi .

With a happier mood, my gaze dri s and lands on Ryke and Daisy, both of which sit on the silver railing near the stern. We’re anchored, so the yacht doesn’t wobble too badly. Daisy takes o her shirt, and Ryke wears her hairband around his wrist. Her blonde hair and dyed green ps are tangled and slightly frizzy.

I’m too far away to pick up their conversa on, though Ryke smiles and that says enough.

“They’re a good couple,” I say aloud. And then I turn back to Rose and Connor, leaning my arms against the ledge. “Why does the media insist on destroying something beau ful?”

Rose slips her Chanel sunglasses on, her knee curved towards Connor, almost lying on her side. She seems more relaxed though.

Connor glances at Rose, his hand placed on her thigh. “Is this a rhetorical ques on?”

“I think so.”

It wasn’t, but maybe there isn’t an answer.

Connor ditches his book to scroll through his phone, glimpsing at Rose every half minute to check on her. And when his eyes x back on the cell, he suddenly frowns. “Lily, did you…” Even though his chair is propped up, he sits even straighter. “You joined Twi er?”

“Just for two seconds,” I say, raising my hands again. It was really hard

nding a username since varia ons of “Lily Calloway” were already taken

by fans. I ended up with @lilycallowayX23, and I sent a total of three very important tweets.

“Right now?” he asks. “You joined Twi er ve minutes ago, while we were all si ng here?”

I squint. “Is this a rhetorical ques on?”

Rose snatches his phone to con rm. “I don’t understand why you always use that OTP thing.”

“Because it’s awesome,” I say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I had to let the Twi erverse know that I am one-hundred percent in support of Team Raisy.” Our publicists should’ve thought of this strategy months ago. I’m only helping.

And these should clear up my stance on the ma er.

Tweet 1: This is the o cial Twi er account of Lily Calloway. Hooray!

I had to announce myself.

Tweet 2: #Raisy is my favorite OTP. I ship it.

Tweet 3: Ryke & Daisy are cuter than cute right now. #Raisy is alive.

I will make this trend. No more stupid “Raisy is dead” anymore.

“I know I didn’t pass it by the publicist,” I say, “but it really can only help.”

Connor and Rose suddenly go quiet and very s ll. They exchange a few words in French to each other, and she delicately passes him his phone back.

I frown. “What?”

They’re holding hands now. Like a united force.

My heart thuds.

Connor actually removes his sunglasses, his blue eyes very calm. It makes me less nervous. “Lily,” he says, “it sort of seems like you’re trying too hard. Does that make sense?”

“She understands,” Rose tells him. “You don’t have to talk down to her.”

I don’t understand though. “I’m just expressing myself.”

“You need to tweet more then,” he tells me. “Because the way this comes across—it makes it look like you’re trying to cover up something.”

I shake my head ercely. “That’s not what I was trying to do.”

“I know,” he says quickly. “I know, and other people will believe you.”

“Okay good.” I swallow a lump that’s risen. Where’s Lo?

Daisy is laughing, full-bellied laughs that pulls my a en on over to her. Ryke has a brooding expression, but his lips curve upward too.

In two seconds at, Ryke purposefully shoves Daisy’s shoulder. With force.

She plummets o the side of the boat, a larger laugh echoing. It looked mean, not nice or friendly, but I’m sure my wild, daring sister loved it.

“Ryke!” A strict voice booms across the stern. My father—with his salt-and-pepper hair, pressed khakis and polo shirt—storms over to this side of the boat. He looks ready to throw Ryke overboard.

Connor and Rose straighten, on alert.

My nerves swarm my belly, and I glance over my shoulder, wai ng for Lo to appear. He’s nowhere in sight though.

“You can’t just push my daughter o the boat!” my father yells.

Ryke stands, but he’s s ll outside the railing. His muscles are all strained, and his jaw locks, which isn’t the only sign that he’s frustrated and angry. It’s all over his face. “No o ense, but everything I fucking do annoys you.”

“Then maybe you should change that,” my dad retorts.

Ryke ins nc vely shakes his head.

“No?” my dad says with distaste. Their voices are much louder than Ryke’s previous conversa on with Daisy. I can hear most everything.

“Look, can we just fucking start over?” Ryke asks. “I’m trying—”

“The most you’ve done is bring my daughter back from Costa Rica with a broken arm and then write a profanity on her cast. And no, we are not star ng over. I’m not going to forget how you lied to me about your rela onship with her or about living together. I can, however, weigh that against your ac ons now. Do you understand?”

Ryke restrains himself from rolling his eyes.

Even though I’ve been distancing myself from him, I can s ll cheer him on. Internally I’m holding up a Team Ryke sign. You’re doing great, Ryke. This really is hard for him. He’s so unchanging, unbending. Unlike Connor who’s able to conform to any situa on with uidity.

Ryke takes a controlled breath, and he glances over the boat, checking on Daisy, before he looks back at my father. “I fucking realize that I’m the reason she broke her arm. I take full responsibility for that, but it was also an accident. She’s been in a lot of those that don’t even involve me.”

In Costa Rica, Ryke dared Daisy to jump o the top of a waterfall. A er he did it. Halfway up her climb to the top, she slipped on the wet rock and landed badly on her arm. Apparently Ryke didn’t even know she broke a bone. He said that he was about to go a er her, but then she jumped o the bo om ledge, into the lagoon.

When she swam up to him, he gured it out. And I could tell—just by his recount of the story—that he blamed himself. He said that if he was spo ng her, she wouldn’t have broken a thing.

On the yacht, I don’t hear my dad’s response. A splash sounds in the pool, the water spraying my already damp hair. I spin around and see a

gure swimming underneath the water towards me.

I recognize Lo’s black swim trunks, and my world lights up. He nears me, his hands skimming my thighs, and his teeth playfully nip my esh. My breath hitches, and for a dangerous second, I wonder if he’ll move to another spot. One that calls for his a en on.

Cool yourself, Lily.

I repeat the mantra again, and his head pops out of the water, his hands sliding to the small of my back, away from the aching places. It’s be er like this.

He brushes his light brown hair out of his face, pre y sexily, and I have to start thinking about hobbits. With large hairy feet. “Did I miss much?” he asks.

I avoid the subject of Twi er and just mo on to his brother who’s gone on the defensive again. Ryke stays silent while my dad lectures him about protec ng my li le sister.

“Yeah, that was bound to happen again,” Lo says with a cringe like he wishes it wasn’t wri en in stone. I do too. “I’m going to go help him…” Lo is about to climb out of the pool when Ryke shakes his head at my dad, turns his back on him and literally springs o the side of the boat. Jumping into the ocean.

It’s either incredibly dumb or by far the coolest thing he’s ever done.

I think my father was in the middle of a sentence.

My dad’s face turns bright red. No one says anything. Except for Lo. “My older brother just took shut the fuck up to a whole new level.” He lets out an amazed laugh. “I would slow clap but your dad is walking this way…” My father glances at us with a hu , and Lo and Connor smile at the same me. A trained fake one that Ryke has yet to learn.

Lo waves, and my father waves tersely back before disappearing inside.

Connor leans against the lounge chair. “This is what happens when you bring dogs on boats. They jump o .”

“Greg is s ll hoping Ryke can be trained.” Lo kisses my cheek, a random kiss that surprises me. I cling to his side and rest my head on his chest, water droplets rolling down his skin.

Connor goes quiet before he says, “Some people are be er as they are.”

My eyes grow in shock.

Connor doesn’t want Ryke to change. Not that much at least.

I don’t think any of us do, but there’s no ques on that he’s going to have to follow some of my father’s rules. If he doesn’t, I’m afraid it’ll put an irreparable strain on his rela onship with Daisy.

And they just have to last.

Raisy is alive. I won’t believe in anything less.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

LOREN HALE

EVEN ON VACATION, to a country I love, my dad never lets me forget reality. He emailed me pro les of every Hale Co. board member with their likes and dislikes. He’s trying to give me an advantage over Lily, Ryke and Daisy. I rarely a empt to change people’s percep ons of me, to kiss ass. I’m afraid the minute I step through the Hale Co. glass double doors, they’re going to say, what is this fucking kid doing here?

He’s an alcoholic.

He was expelled from college.

He’s a loser.

I’m a natural-born failure.

But I don’t want my son to grow up and have these same impressions of me. I want to be known for more than all of that. I just don’t know how. Part of me believes it’s impossible. I can’t move mountains, no ma er how hard I push.

Stop thinking, I tell myself. My mind won’t shut o . In the yacht’s cabin, I lie on the bed next to Lily, who’s in a deep sleep. I check the clock: 4 a.m.

Four years ago, I’d go grab a bo le of Jameson. Take more than a few swigs. Call it a night a er an hour.

I let out a heavy breath and quietly climb o the bed.

The moon bathes the room in blue, and I see a direct path to the door. I sneak out, gently shu ng it behind me. And then I proceed down the hallway, knowing my course and des na on.

I stop in front of another cabin, lamp light glowing beneath the door. No hesita on or second-guessing, I just open it.

Ryke leans against the headboard in only sweatpants, a paperback folded in hand. His eyes meet mine with ques oning and concern. He’s alone, so I close the door and walk further inside.

“Hey,” he says while I take a seat on a wooden chair that faces his bed.

I’m not surprised that he’s awake. If anyone has a fucked up internal clock, it’s my older brother. He’ll alternate between 5 a.m. mornings to 5 a.m. nights, depending on who needs his help and if he’s going climbing.

I rest my forearms on my thighs, slightly hunched. My ngers vibrate, and my leg jostles more than I like. I rub my lips, but it’s clear that he sees my anxiety.

I let out another breath and look up at him. He has his arms on his bent knees, and my eyes fall to the paperback, loosely hanging by his ngers, a picture of a bull on the front cover. “What are you reading?”

His eyes it to the book. “The Sun Also Rises.”

I frown, making out the tle from here. “That’s not what it says.”

He tucks the novel away, underneath his pillow. “It’s in Spanish.”

Right. I try to smile but it’s a bi er one. He’s uent in more languages than I can ever learn. “Is it good?” I ask.

He shrugs. “It’s okay.” He studies my expression for too long, and my gaze drops to my shaking hands.

I breathe out, the strain burs ng my lungs. I imagine my non-conformist brother in a suit and e, pretending to be something he’s not. Entering this bullshit world that he’s purposefully escaped. It’s wrong. And I suddenly say, “I don’t want you to change.” It’s not all sel ess. I need him the way that he is.

“You know me,” he says—three words that weren’t true for decades of

me. “Do you really think I can fucking change?”

I never thought he could. “The board will never choose you, you realize that?” I snap, my voice more edged. Remorse twists my face. “Not as you are, I mean.” He curses too much. He’s late to everything, even his own birthday. He shelters his intelligence from every fucking person—so they just see this aggressive, un ltered guy. But all of this is why he’s Ryke Meadows and not me, not Connor.

It’s part of why I love him.

“Fuck them, then,” he says. “But I’m s ll trying.”

He also never gives up.

I’m scared because I always do, in the end. Pi ed against each other—I lose. Every me. I put my ngers up to my lips, my palms pressed together. My foot s ll taps the ground. And I say, “Just give it to me.”

His features darken, and he slides to the edge of the bed, si ng closer to me as his bare feet hit the oor. “No,” he says, one word that tears a fucking hole inside of me.

“No?” I glare, grinding my teeth. “You don’t even want it.”

“Neither do you,” he refutes. “How many mes do I have to fucking tell you, Lo, that you don’t owe him one fucking thing?” He points at the door.

I swallow hard. “I’m alive because—”

“Because Dad said yes to keeping you? Decent people don’t use that to blackmail their children. You had no choice in coming into this fucking world. You should have a choice on what you do with your life a erwards. And he’s taking that away from you.”

I shake my head on impulse, but I catch myself and stop. I rub my eyes with the heels of my palms. He’s taking that choice away from Ryke too.

My brother leans forward. “Lo, please drop out of this. It’s going to make you fucking sick.”

I tug at the collar of my crew-neck with a cringe. For once, I want to be the strong one. I want to save my brother from this hell. And he’s saying that I’m too weak for it. That I’ll destroy myself before I ever have the chance.

I’d like to believe that I’m be er now. But it’s easy to say that I am. It’s harder to prove it. I want to. God I want to. “I think…we’re both in agreement that neither of the girls should take over Hale Co.,” I say.

Ryke nods adamantly.

Lily is about to have a baby. Daisy should be outside or whatever she likes to do. They’re only trying to win this because they know that neither Ryke nor I want to live this life.

And they’re trying to protect us as much as we’re trying to protect them.

I ask, “So why don’t we just work together at the beginning?” If we help each other, then maybe the girls won’t even have a chance. It’s a compromise, but in my mind, I see myself taking more of the burden from him. I will, in the end. I’m going to carry his weight for once. “Us against the girls.”

Ryke considers this for a second, his ngers combing through his disheveled hair. And then his brown eyes it up to mine. “I thought you said the board will never take me as I am.” It’ll be hard. But we’ll s ll have a shot. We’re Jonathan’s sons. “Why would you want to work with me?”

“Because you’re my brother,” I say without pause, “and I’d rather be with you than against you.”

I can’t ght with Ryke. I need him on my side un l the very end, un l one of us is chosen. Maybe one day Connor and Ryke will pull away from me, and I’ll no longer lean on them for support.

But it’s only been four months since I last drank alcohol, and their fears have become mine. Of relapsing. I need him.

I need my brother.

I sit up and pull my shoulder back. “So how about it, Ryke Meadows, you want to be miserable with me?”

This is di cult for him to accept.

I see it in his eyes. By agreeing, he’s willfully going to subject me to a certain torture. He’d rather beat me. I’d rather beat him—but I’m not sure I can at the beginning: when I rst walk through those glass double doors, when I meet the board’s judgment.

Before I run on my own, I need a crutch. It’s either Ryke Meadows or a bo le of booze. And I can’t let it be the la er.

So this is what I have to do. Please. Say yes.

He rises to his feet, and I do the same, my heart thrashing in my chest. And then he grabs my hand and hugs me, se ng a palm on my back. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s do this together, li le brother.”

My muscles nally loosen. For the rst me that night.

When we break apart, something bangs into the door. We both inch, and the sound happens again, a so er thud this me.

I step forward but Ryke holds out his hand and says, “I got it.” He cau ously heads to the door and cracks it open. Then he quickly swings it completely ajar.

Daisy stands on the other side, her eyes dazed and far o .

“Daisy?” Ryke says, concern all over his features. He waves his hand at her face. She doesn’t even blink. “Fuck,” he curses.

“She’s sleepwalking,” I guess.

“Yeah.” He moves out of the way as she shu es forward. “She’s done this a couple mes since her new meds.” He gently places a hand on her shoulders and sort of guides her towards the bed without being forceful about it.

I hang back. “Need help?”

“No, I’m good,” he says as Daisy sits on the navy comforter. He’s able to li her legs up on the ma ress. And then he tucks her underneath the blankets while she shuts her eyes. “Fucking fantas c,” he mu ers and glances back at me. “I bet you Greg will no ce that she’s not in her bedroom in the morning.”

“I’ll tell him that she spent the night with Lily.”

Ryke rocks back in surprise.

I head to the door. “You don’t have to do everything on your own,” I remind him. “I can help you too, you know.” I hear my bi ng tone again. I wish I could wash it away. But maybe that’s impossible.

He nods a couple mes to himself. “I appreciate it.”

“Just don’t ask me for sex advice. I gave it to you fucking once, and you rejected me. A guy can only take so much.”

Ryke ips me o with a weak smile, and then his a en on falls back to the blonde girl in his bed. Tomorrow we’re going onshore to Puerto Vallarta—Daisy doesn’t know about what Ryke planned. Neither do the girls.

It’ll be a surprise for her birthday.

Hopefully a good one.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

LILY CALLOWAY

“ VIRGIN MARGARITA,” I emphasize for the tenth me. The Spanish transla on can’t be that far o from my English. I have a feeling the thirty-something bartender understands this phrase. Especially as he laughs like I should be “living it up” and drinking tequila straight from the bo le. My stomach is blocked by the bar, so it’s not like he can physically see my reasoning.

He speaks in Spanish a li le bit and then begins pouring shots.

My eyes bulge. “Nonono.” I wave my hand like I have a superpower to reverse me. If only that was the case—but I’d nd be er use of it. When I acquire my powers, I won’t be was ng them on things like this.

The nightclub slowly amasses with people, mul -colored strobe lights swirling and La n music booming over the speakers. Even though it’s not electronica, it’s extremely danceable. A-plus-plus.

“Pregnant,” I tell him, poin ng to my belly that’s hidden behind the bar.

He pushes the shots to me, and then his gaze rises behind my shoulder. “Is that your boyfriend?” He speaks English?!

Internally, I fume. But outwardly I probably look like a washed ashore jelly sh. I check over my shoulder, and Garth, my two-hundred-and- y-

pound bodyguard, stands behind me with his hands cupped. He’s more gut than brawn, his bald head shiny in the light. But he looks in mida ng to me.

And old enough to be my dad.

Which is why I spin around and try to set a withering Rose Calloway glare on the bartender. “No, he’s not my boyfriend.”

“What about that one?” He points over my shoulder with an amused smile. He’s bus ng my balls. I look anyway and see Mikey—a blond, shorter bodyguard with a Hawaiian shirt—and Dave, who wears black sunglasses indoors. Dave is Poppy’s middle-aged bodyguard. Mikey is Daisy’s. And I suppose, in e ect, Rose’s bo le of pepper spray is hers.

Right on me, my three sisters appear, swarming the bar around me, and I exhale in relief.

“Are you seriously trying to serve a pregnant woman shots?” Rose says icily.

The bartender not-so subtly ogles her breasts.

“Also pregnant,” Rose snaps, “and even if I wasn’t, I’d throw salt in your eyes.” She actually reaches for the salt shaker, and Daisy snatches her arm.

“No ghts on my birthday, remember?” Daisy says, bouncing on her toes to the music.

“It’s the day a er your birthday,” Rose reminds her. “That window has closed.” She’s s ll angry that Ryke pushed all of the plans for Daisy’s birthday to the twenty- rst without men oning it to her. She’s out of the loop once again.

I didn’t know about it either. It’s another indica on that the guys are teaming up. Or maybe they thought we couldn’t keep a secret from our li le sister.

Regardless, it was a good thing Ryke chose today to really celebrate Daisy turning nineteen. Our mom wanted to spend me with Daisy, so Ryke scheduled ATVs and bungee jumping this morning and a ernoon. Not that Rose or I could join in—or that she’d want to.

Now we’re topping it o with some drinks and dancing. Sans the alcohol for me.

Rose is having a stare-a-thon with the bartender who is not necessarily lus ng a er her anymore. He’s just trying to enrage her—something Connor does be er than anyone else. Where is he?

My head whips around, and I meet Poppy’s warm gaze. “The guys aren’t back yet,” she tells me.

My stomach knots, worried they got lost or something worse happened. I check my texts, no new messages from Lo. The guys split from us a er dinner. They said they wanted to go to a cigar shop, but I’ve never even seen Ryke or Lo willingly smoke before.

“Who’s not pregnant?” the bartender asks us with a sexy lilt. I’m not staring at him too hard—keeping my hormones at bay. My sisters and I are actually standing in a row, oldest to youngest.

“We aren’t,” Poppy announces, mo oning to herself and Daisy on the other end.

“Rub it in,” Rose snaps.

Poppy smiles, used to Rose—as we all are.

Daisy wraps her arm around my shoulders, and I tell the bartender, “It’s her birthday.” I gesture up at my ve-foot-eleven sister.

The bartender zeroes in on her like I said she’s the one you should fuck. Not my inten on at all. I open my mouth to refute, but instead of a yearning gaze, he cringes, unable to hide his reac on to Daisy’s scar that runs along her cheek.

Daisy just smiles politely, but she falls to the ats of her feet. I nudge her hip, but she gives me a weak smile too, like it’s okay.

It doesn’t feel like that.

He’s already spli ng up the shots between Poppy and Daisy.

“We’d like two virgin margaritas,” Rose tells him, and she touches the top of my head to demonstrate that one is for me. “And if you poison my baby with alcohol, I will severely harm you.”

The guy laughs.

“I wasn’t joking,” Rose says.

“Who’s the father? The bald one?” He nods to the bodyguards again. Why does he keep saying that Garth is the father of our children? It’s disturbing.

“That’s rude,” Poppy says before Rose can annihilate him with her glare and manicured nails.

“They’ve been following you throughout the club,” he explains his point.

“They’re our bodyguards,” Daisy clari es, xing the hair underneath her baseball cap before she wears it backwards again. Her blonde locks now shroud her scar.

“He knows that,” Rose says, her yellow-green eyes never leaving his.

I have a feeling he’s going to spit in our margaritas. Not that I want anything from him anymore.

But Rose is right on one account. He should know they’re bodyguards, even if he’s not sure who we are. We’ve brought more a en on to ourselves in the club, especially by being together. I already see some people snapping photos of us with their cellphones and whispering to their friends. I’ve been approached three or four mes by fans, asking for an autograph and sel e.

It always surprises me that people beyond the United States are interested in us. Princesses of Philly made my family more famous than I can even process some mes, now interna onally recognized. It’s easier living in our own bubble of normalcy. When we step out—that’s when it’s crazy.

Poppy and Daisy clink glasses and then down their tequila shots while the bartender starts making our drinks. “Have the guys texted you?” I ask my sisters.

They all check their phones.

“No,” Daisy says, slipping her cell in her short’s pocket. She subconsciously touches her green and yellow hemp bracelet that Ryke made for her birthday. A simple present that has more love in it than anything store bought.

He did well.

“None from Sam,” Poppy says.

Rose shakes her head, though she’s the only one who sends a text back.

The bartender pours tequila into more shot glasses. He slides another one to Daisy. “For the birthday girl.” He’s sweet to her now, but I wonder if it’s because she hid her scar or because he pi es her.

Either way, it hurts to think about.

“Let me guess your age,” he says with a smile.

I check my phone again. No texts. I bite my nails and then drop my hand quickly. Rose caught me though, a ery glare scorching me.

“Only if you let me guess yours,” Daisy replies, twirling a drink napkin on the bar.

His face lights up, and he rests his forearms on the counter, peering over it. He scans her en re body, lingering on her long legs. “Just making sure you aren’t pregnant.”

Rose mu ers a violent curse under her breath. I only heard penis. Poppy is holding Rose’s wrist in a maternal vice, one that also says cool your jets.

My jets are too cold. They’re frozen to a statue-like posture. Our trip really has gone smoothly thus far. Not too much drama besides my father. It’s bound to take a wrong turn somewhere. And I think tonight is the night. I’m just wai ng for it, watching the storm clouds roll in.

“No baby in the oven,” Daisy says easily, though she concentrates more on the napkin than on the guy.

“You’re twenty- ve,” he guesses.

Daisy mock gasps. “How’d you know?”

“I’m good with faces.” He smiles.

Rose snorts.

I laugh once, but it fades as he soaks in Daisy’s slender, athle c frame.

“Your turn,” he tells her.

Daisy takes the shot, licks her tequila-wet lips and says, “You’re eighty-nine, or maybe seventy-four.”

“Nice try,” he says, pouring her another shot. “I’m thirty-two.”

She gasps again. “I wasn’t right? I thought for sure you were a li le blind in your right eye.”

His lips downturn.

“I’m nineteen,” Daisy retorts. “Nice try.”

My smile overtakes my face. That was awesome. I raise my hand for a high- ve, and Daisy smacks my palm.

The shock passes through his features quickly. “That doesn’t mean much to me,” he says, “other than your pussy being ghter than your sisters.”

All of our mouths simultaneously drop, except Rose who is about to punch him. But she can’t. Hands swoop around her waist from behind.

Connor.

And Ryke suddenly appears beside Daisy with a murderous glare, directed at the bartender. Oh shit. “Lily,” Lo says my name in my ear.

My chest rises. They’re all back. Unharmed it seems. Even Sam, Poppy’s husband, his jaw unshaven like Ryke, and his features just as masculine as the rest of them.

Ryke has a paper bag in his clenched st. Cigars, I think. To the bartender, he growls, “I don’t even know what to fucking say to you.”

“I do,” Lo sneers; then he mo ons between Ryke and Daisy. “They’re together, you dumb fuck. So swallow your tongue. And consider yourself lucky that only three out of eight people pray you choke on it.” I’m guessing that’s Ryke, Lo, and Rose. The hot-tempered triad.

I smile again, even though this is not the me to be smiling like a dopey fool. I just never really saw the three of them as a team like that un l now.

“I say we cut if o ,” Rose threatens.

Connor, standing behind Rose, puts his hand to her forehead like he’s checking her temperature. She swats his arm away. He says, “I’m just seeing if rage can boil a brain.”

“My brain is working perfectly,” she says. “I see a disgus ng human being and it says die.”

Connor is grinning from ear to ear. “Your brain has no mercy, darling.”

She can’t reply because the bartender interjects and points at Daisy accusingly. “She was ir ng with me. I had no idea that she had a boyfriend.” Oh my God.

Daisy pales. “I was not—”

“Let me guess yours,” he says in a high-pitched tone that sounds nothing like Daisy.

“Fuck you,” Ryke cuts in, his hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “Come on, Dais.”

The bartender can’t let it go. “I’m just telling the truth.”

Ryke growls, “And I’m telling you to fuck o .”

I interject (yes, me of all people) and say, “You can keep the margarita.” Out of principle, I won’t drink anything that has been touched by his hands. He threw my sister under the bus, which I do not appreciate.

I spin around, and I’m shocked to see not only Rose following suit, but Poppy and Daisy. I was the leader of this movement, heading towards an open leather couch by the wall. The trek involves being the center of a en on, with camera phones pointed at us. But we all make it safely and se le there.

I sit between Lo’s legs, leaning back against his chest so we all have room. I like it best here.

I look up and whisper to him, “You were gone for a while.”

His eyes are daggered sharp, and something tells me it’s not because of the bartender. “There were a lot of tourists out.”

I don’t believe that. It’s February, and for the most part, the nightclub is sparse with mostly locals. “Are you lying to me?” I breathe, my face plumme ng. Is it really guys versus girls to this extent?

He winces and dips his head closer to mine, his lips beside my ear. “All day, we’ve been followed by three guys, and we were trying to ditch them.”

I frown. “What kind of guys?”

He explains quickly, “They’re not paparazzi. They’re either on vaca on or they live here, but they wouldn’t leave Ryke and me alone at the ATV park. They were just trying to get a reac on out of us.” His jaw is all ice tonight.

Cold rushes down my arms. “Did they say anything in par cular?” I mentally recall all the rumors involving me, Lo, and Ryke.

“I don’t know,” he says in frustra on.

“But…you heard them, right? They were close?” Or were they out of earshot?

Lo grinds his teeth. “They only spoke in Spanish.”

Oh.

Oh. That means that Ryke hasn’t translated everything for Lo. And neither has Connor, who’s also uent.

“It’s aggrava ng,” Lo says under his breath. They’re censoring Lo, afraid that he’ll be hurt and react poorly, like by drinking.

I hug my scrawny arms around his chest. “I believe in you.”

I feel him inhale strongly, and then he kisses my temple. “I love you, Lil.” His arms ghten around me.

I love you too, Loren Hale. He suddenly kisses me again, this me on the lips. Since he doesn’t have telepathy (yet), I have to assume my eyes did all the talking.

“What’s in the paper bag?” Daisy asks Ryke. My thoughts reroute. Ryke acts like it’s nothing, just clutching the brown paper bag. He scru nizes her hair that’s draped over her scar, and he ends up stealing her baseball cap (really, it’s his). And he wears it backwards on his head. They’re scooched together near us, and the other two couples are squashed on the opposing couch.

Sam is whispering in Poppy’s ear with a huge smile, and she’s laughing like he’s telling the funniest story ever. It’s what Rose would call “nausea ng” and her eye roll right now expresses that.

“Can you tone down your happy?” Rose snaps.

Lo drapes his arms over my shoulders and holds me close. “Rose is allergic to happiness and kids. It’s what gives her horns.”

“Then you must be su ering from the same a ic on,” she retorts. “Look in the mirror.”

I hold my breath, hoping this ends at that.

“My horns aren’t encrusted with diamonds,” Lo says. “So we’re not the same.”

Rose’s lips slowly rise. Loren Hale made Rose Calloway smile.

This is a rst if there ever was one.

Connor is subtly massaging his wife’s shoulder, and if she could see his overwhelming grin right now, she’d probably combat him with even more

ery passion. Nerd stars combus ng—but not in a bad way or

permanently. That’s never happening. I nod to myself.

“Everyone,” Connor says, gathering our a en on with one word. I follow his gaze that has shi ed to Ryke, who’s removed the contents of the paper bag already, in his own world with Daisy.

It’s a plas c carton. He pops the lid, places the carton on her lap, and then reaches into his pocket, pulling out a lighter.

My heart swells at the realiza on, and I peek into the carton to con rm.

Inside lies a slice of molten chocolate cake.

Connor’s grin has nothing on Daisy’s bright smile, a contagious one that causes our lips to li just as high. Even Rose is showing o her pearly whites.

Chocolate cake.

That is what all four guys had been searching for. Not cigars.

It’s possibly one of the sweetest, kindest gestures I’ve seen. Because it’s something that Daisy loves.

Ryke lights the waxy candle, and then he messes her hair with a rough, caring hand. And we all start to sing happy birthday.

Daisy looks around at us, and her eyes begin to glass with tears. We’ve celebrated her birthday before, but this me it’s di erent. We’re all closer. She’s nally with Ryke. It’s like the puzzle pieces of our lives have begun to

t together just right.

When we nish the song, I have to wipe my eyes quickly.

I catch Rose wiping hers too, and I point a nger at her and gawk. She told me to suck it up last week when we were watching a movie and I cried at the end.

She mouths, shut up. And then she adds, hormones. Fine. I’ll let her throw out the hormone card, especially because I use it all the me.

Daisy blows out the candle. Not long a er, she dips her nger in the chocolate and instead of sucking it o —not dirty like that—she draws a line of chocolate down Ryke’s lips.

“Lil,” Lo breathes in warning. I’ve scooted back up into his crotch. It’s not my fault. The way they are staring at each other—this is eye fucking if I ever saw it.

A second later, they a ack each other with carnal desire, the kind that you search for in good porn. I squeeze my eyes shut at my perverted thought. This is bad.

When I open them, their kiss is front and center, spotlighted, but no one else seems to be watching. There is serious tongue. Tongue that is done right. His hand envelops her face as he deepens the kiss, and she breaks from him, just to let out a pleasured cry.

Holy shit.

This is so physical and explosive that it really does deserve a reworks show.

The other couples are talking and ir ng, and Lo suddenly stands. “Follow me,” he whispers in my ear.

“I’m okay,” I tell him quickly, whipping my head away from the PDA. Do not watch, Lily. I try to bury any gross, guilty shameful feelings. They do not exist, I chant over and over.

Lo’s brows rise and he says, “I know.” He smiles to show me that he’s being honest.

I believe him.

“Follow me, love,” he repeats.

I throb in good-bad places. Yes. I rise to my feet like a dream. He has a head start, exi ng the li le couch area and onto the dance oor. He walks backwards, bea ng his head to the music with very good rhythm. It’s a song that you salsa to, one that is full of re, smooth vocals, and a melodic beat.

Lo’s dark gray crew-neck ts him snuggly, an arrowhead necklace against his chest: a present I gave him for his twenty- rst birthday some

me ago. I can see the lines of his abs ghtening beneath his shirt,

especially as he begins to move his body to the song. Girls record him with fangirling giggles, their cellphones directed at my best friend. But his gaze is solely planted on me.

When we were younger, Lo was the one who taught me how to dance.

He’s always been able to move like no one is watching, like no one can harm him in this brief expanse of me.

In his last year of college, before he was expelled, he refused to dance with me. Every single me. He sat at the bar and said dance by yourself when I asked.

It didn’t always used to be like that.

So seeing him, right now, dancing in the middle of the club, with no alcohol in his clutch—it possesses me in ways that I can’t express. It’s like my soul is alive. Like I’ve woken up from a long, long sleep.

I slowly walk towards him, and he holds out his hand, wai ng for me to near and take it.

I do.

And he draws me swi ly to his chest, my breath escaping. His hips begin to move with mine, so sensually that a heat builds across my skin.

I ourish beneath his intoxica ng eyes, drinking him in completely.

He twirls me, and I hit his chest again, my feet following his in a steady pace. It’s our bodies, melded together, that s rs every part of me.

I’m not le ng go.

A er a few minutes, the song dies down, and we ease to a slower sway. I want to hear his answer, even if it doesn’t make much sense now that we’re moving to the music. I grow the courage to ask anyway, “Will you dance with me?” For some reason, I s ll fear that rejec on, the familiar response that always comes.

He cups my round face, his ngers lost in my hair, and his lips curve. Very so ly, he says, “Yes, love. I’ll dance with you.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

LOREN HALE

“HUSBANDS CAN’T CHOOSE WIVES, boyfriends can’t choose girlfriends and vice versa.” Poppy sets out the parameters of the game as she sips a rum and Fizz. A er claiming the leather couches by the wall, we decided to pay for VIP bo le service for Poppy, Daisy, Connor, and Sam. Anything is be er than dealing with the shit bartender. Even playing truth or dare, which usually ends with someone throwing a t.

Lily sits on my lap, her skin coated in a sheen of sweat from dancing earlier. It was a really good me. I missed it more than I realized.

I hold her to my chest, sa s ed with the fact that we can’t disappear and ditch our friends and family. This, right here, feels close to perfect.

Sam cau ously glances at all the locals who snap pictures of us, some even lm us from their bar stools. “Can we play this game some other

me?” he asks us. “I really don’t want to have to call Fizzle’s publicists in

the morning to clean up whatever happens tonight.”

He’s the head marke ng guy or whatever at Fizzle. “Sammy,” I say with the lt of my head, “I get that being a chaperone is so deep within your pores that no facial strips can remove it, but we’re not ten.”

Connor rephrases, “We’re all used to being lmed. Some more in mately than others.” His voice is conversa onal, not bi er. I’d be causing hell if sex tapes of Lily and me were circula ng through porn sites. I get that Connor has taken the publicity to his advantage, but this type of invasion of privacy has to be ea ng at Rose. It’s been over a year since the

rst tape was released, and last I heard, there are now ve online.

At his comment, Rose tenses and crosses her arms. “No one is allowed to men on the sex tapes un l I can have a glass of wine.” Her head whips to her husband. “That includes you.”

“I was making a point,” Connor says casually.

“Make it when I’m not in the room,” she retorts.

They start bickering in French, and I tune them out. At the other end of my couch, Ryke slings his arm around Daisy’s waist and she rests her cheek on his shoulder. When Lily and I nished dancing, both Daisy and Ryke were missing. Poppy explained how they snuck o to the bathroom. To fuck.

Clearly.

It’s not as uncomfortable with them returning as I thought it’d be. Maybe because they’re not on top of each other—like Lily is with me. We’ll forever take the PDA championship tle, I realize. What’s scary is that when we were just friends, we were always touching too.

It’s hardwired into us. I pull her further against my chest, and her breathing shallows. I watch her take a trained inhale and exhale to control her urges. I rub her arm in comfort. She’s doing well.

Sam clutches a vodka soda. “Let’s just try to keep it classy.”

Connor says, “Truth or dare by nature is juvenile. If you’re looking for a posh game, we should break out chess or Scrabble. However, you won’t beat my wife and you certainly won’t beat me. So the level of fun, for you, isn’t that high. I’d enjoy it though.” He grins.

I whistle at his conceited statement, but I’m smiling.

“Truth or dare is ne as long as no one takes it too far,” Sam says, his gaze landing on me.

I give him an invasive glare. Seriously, he doesn’t need to treat me like I’m twelve-years-old. I swallow a bi ng retort that’s about as nasty as what I said to the bartender. I don’t want to put Sam on that level, but he’s beginning to irritate me.

Connor lls the silence. “Some zebras can’t change their stripes.”

“Cobalt, are you calling me a fucking zebra?” Ryke interjects.

“Don’t be o ended,” Connor says, not denying it. “Almost every animal plays a role in the kingdom. Even zebras.”

“Yeah?” Ryke says roughly. “If I’m a fucking zebra, then what’s my brother?”

Connor’s deep blue eyes pin to me, full of clarity, something I desperately crave. His face becomes a complacent blank slate. “What animal do you want to be, darling?”

My eyebrows rise. “I have a choice?” Something tells me that he would’ve picked an inferior animal if he was truthful. He ptoes around me. It’s old knowledge by now. My muscles ghten, wishing he just called me a zebra like my brother.

Ryke groans. “I call fucking bullshit on this.”

“It’s called favori sm,” Rose chimes in, her hand clasped rmly in her husband’s.

“Favori sm is bullshit,” Ryke says.

“I agree,” Rose announces. Though infrequent, I hate when she teams up with Ryke. It’s like two bulldozers headed in your direc on. Having them on opposite sides is easier.

“Bullshit aside,” Connor says, passing through this discussion quickly. “Who’s star ng the game?”

“Lily should,” Poppy says, gesturing to Lil who’s been really quiet for the most part. In group discussions, she’s more like the observer, not as loud or as brash. Her cheeks ush red at all the a en on placed on her.

“Uhh…” Her head whips around, trying to nd a person to ask a ques on to. Her back straightens as she grows more con dent with her thoughts.

“Rose,” she says.

Rose crosses her ankles, alert like she’s about to answer some collegiate quiz ques on. Of course she’s happy to be par cipa ng.

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” she says instantly.

“Unsurprising,” I add, just to ck her o .

Her yellow-green eyes drill into me.

“Umm,” Lily says, and her face just keeps reddening and reddening. I can’t read her mind, but I have a suspicion what’s rolling around her head.

I whisper in her ear, “It can be a sex ques on.” That’s the point of this game. It gets dirty.

Lily’s eyes icker nervously to Sam. Yeah, she’s known him for a long

me. It’s like speaking to an older brother, slightly estranged since you don’t know his likes and dislikes or the other side of his family. What makes it more awkward: he’s close with Greg since they work together.

Sam checks his phone, as though he’s hoping this will end soon so none of us embarrass ourselves.

“Oh noble Captain America,” I say dryly, “cover your ears.”

Sam pockets his cell. “Why?”

“You’re like her older brother, and you work with her dad.”

Confusion blankets his face.

Jesus Christ. “Do I need to spell it out for you?”

S ll blank.

“S…E…” I start.

“Got it,” he says, avoiding Lily’s gaze. “Should she really be talking about that at all?”

Lily’s chest collapses.

“Yes,” I snap. “She’s a human being and human beings ask sex ques ons during truth or dare.”

Sam shakes his head at me. “I don’t.”

“Then you must be a rep le, Sammy. Go slither away.”

“Lo,” Poppy cuts in. “Be nice.”

“Yes, Mother,” I say back. I look at Sam. “Father. Are you going to ground me too?”

Sam is as unamused as me. I won’t let anyone shame Lily. I get that he’s confused about her sex addic on. Most people are, but their doubts plant something in her head. He can say that shit out loud when she’s not around. Fine. But she’s not in a good place to be welcoming comments from the fucking peanut gallery.

Daisy adds to the group, “I think anything should be game. It usually is.”

“I’m just more reserved around you girls,” Sam realizes.

“Which is why I told you to cover your ears,” I say with less edge.

A light bulb goes o in his head like I get it now. Most of us are too comfortable with each other, and he’s star ng to understand that. So he nods but never plugs his ears, taking the risk.

“Okay, I have it,” Lily cuts in, her hands on my knees. She clears her throat. “Rose, what posi on do you like the best?” Lily smiles more, able to ask this without stumbling over words.

Rose clutches Connor’s hand so forcefully that his skin begins to turn purple. Lily bringing up the sex tapes would’ve been worse for Rose and way more awkward, so Lily went easy.

“My favorite posi on is Connor’s least favorite posi on,” she says.

“This isn’t called lie or dare, darling.” Connor xes her hair over one shoulder, her neck bare.

Rose purses her lips, her collarbones protruding from her black dress. “Fine…my favorite posi on is missionary.” She pauses brie y. “With a few alterna ons.”

And just like that—Connor looks ready to fuck her across the couch.

I can’t shut my mouth. Habit. “Meaning handcu s, whips and yes sirs.”

Rose lunges for me—what the hell.

I ins nc vely inch back while Connor seizes her around the waist— right before she catapults across the fucking table. She’s incredibly pregnant and ac ng like she’s a pole jumper in the Olympics.

I give her a weird look. “Way to sacri ce your baby for payback.” It was such a low blow that I regret it the moment it leaves my lips. My heart clenches like it’s skipping ve beats at once.

Connor shoots me a single expression that says drop it. He’s holding the back of Rose’s head, and she says something ercely to him in French.

I look to Ryke.

My brother sighs but ends up ra ng them out, “She doesn’t call Connor sir, ever.”

Connor lets annoyance cross his face. He’s not a fan of Ryke understanding their private French conversa ons. So I’m not surprised when Connor says something in Italian to Ryke. When Ryke responds in the same language, ges cula ng like he’s just as pissed, Lily’s eyes grow big.

She extends her arms, almost whacking me in the face. “I thought we said no secret languages?”

I cut in, already sorry I started this string of arguments. “I got it wrong,” I tell Rose. “I accept that. For Christ’s sake, I wouldn’t be surprised if I only got one out of three right.”

Rose stares at me with more con dence in her s posture and

focused eyes. “Two out of three were right,” she says honestly, owning up to her sexual preferences.

I nod. “I’m not such a loser then,” I say dryly. “Shocking.”

She eases down a li le. Look at that, I calmed the ice queen. Who would have thought this day would come?

Lily turns her head and whispers to me, “Maybe you’re inheri ng some of Connor’s smart person powers.” She no ced the same thing as me.

I give her a smile. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Or you could’ve had them all this me and you never knew,” she says, her eyes brightening at that idea.

“The former is more probable,” I tell her, expec ng her to frown. Instead she clings to me harder, as though saying she loves me all the same.

I take a deep breath, one that releases all kinds of strain.

Seconds later, a server appears, passing out a new rum and Fizz to Poppy, a tequila sunrise to Daisy, and a glass of wine to Connor. Poppy twirls her s r straw in her drink and says to Rose, “Your turn.”

Rose tugs at the hem of her dress and then rotates to Connor. “Truth or dare, Richard?”

“You can’t choose him,” Poppy reminds her. “We’re not le ng couples choose their partner.”

Rose rolls her eyes drama cally. “For this absurd rule…” She targets her older sister. “Truth or dare?”

Poppy’s muscles are relaxed from the booze, and she leans into her husband’s chest. Sam and Poppy hug more than they kiss in public, and whenever they start to have an argument, they usually take it to another room. They’re so normal that having them here reminds me how the rest of us ride these extremes of life, rarely wading in the “okay” content state.

Connor is too conceited.

Rose is too high-strung.

Daisy is too wild.

Ryke is too aggressive.

Lily is too awkward.

I’m too hateful.

Sam and Poppy are just right.

And I wonder if they’re the ideal we should all be striving for. Or if we should just accept our nature and con nue as we are.

A er brief contempla on, Poppy says, “Dare.”

“I dare you to give me a shoulder massage.” Rose snaps her ngers like hurry up.

Of course she’d nd a way to bene t from the dare.

Poppy scoots closer to her sister on the couch and starts kneading Rose’s shoulders with her ngers. Rose looks at peace, as though everything worked in her favor.

“Loren,” Poppy says. “Truth or dare?”

I tense. “Truth,” I say, even though dare might be easier for me. I sel shly don’t want to move Lily o my lap for any reason. I like her where she is.

“How many people in this room have you seen buck naked? Name them too.”

I lt my head. “And I was just star ng to like you, Poppy.”

“You always tell me that,” she says warmly.

I do? I mentally pass through her comment while I calculate my answer. Christ. “Four people. Lily, of course. Ryke.”

Ryke raises his brows quickly like guilty. This happens when we’re undressing for events in one room. We all just don’t care.

“Connor,” I add.

He raises his wine glass to me.

“And unfortunately Daisy.” I glare at her for streaking in our house. I caught a small glimpse, and it was enough to imprint an image that I’ve tried, desperately, to erase.

She playfully winces. “Sorry.”

Ryke shi s uncomfortably, but he doesn’t say a word about it. I highly doubt he’s that upset. But then I think about Ryke spo ng Lily undressed, and it almost twists my face, gross sen ments invading me.

There’s a lot there that I don’t like to imagine or talk about. Star ng with who’s the baby daddy? rumors and ending with Ryke and Lily discussing sex. The in between—Lily being aroused by his make-out sessions with Daisy—is temporary and only fueled by her hormones. So I can live with it ne.

It’s the other stu that’s a emp ng to unravel me.

“What about Rose?” Daisy suddenly asks me. “Didn’t you see her naked with the leeches…?”

Rose’s mouth drops. “Loren—”

“Holster your brooms ck,” I tell her. “I didn’t even try to look at you. For one, no.” I cringe. “For another, I was focused on Lily.” I remember the road trip where the girls skinny dipped in a pond. We were all trying to remove the leeches, not catch a peek of each other’s girlfriends, wives, friend—whatever.

Rose relaxes back into Connor.

I nod to Daisy. “Truth or dare?” I’m be ng she’ll pick dare.

But she hesitates for a second, her cheek s ll on Ryke. Her eyes are glazed, which means she’s psy, maybe verging on drunk. I haven’t craved alcohol that severely tonight. It’s easier when there are more people staying sober than just me.

Daisy raises her head and surprises me by saying, “Truth.”

A ques on lights up in my mind. An asshole one. For Daisy, I would normally try to so en my spiteful, slightly vindic ve nature. But it’s a knee-jerk reac on. And I let it out faster than I can rein it in—forge ng in a moment that she’s not Rose.

“When Connor walked in, and Ryke came on your face—how embarrassed were you?”

All of Daisy’s sisters’ jaws unhinge. Daisy slumps down in the couch, her eyes wide in complete horror. I may have unleashed one of the few secrets s ll kept in the group.

I hear Sam mu er to Poppy, “Where am I?” He’s shielding his eyes with his hand. He’s known Daisy prac cally forever.

Connor is smiling into his wine glass, and Ryke looks like he wants to tear o my head—or maybe Connor’s.

“You fucking told him?” Ryke growls at Connor.

“Maybe a month ago,” Connor admits. “It was a good story. I felt guilty for keeping it to myself.”

“Fuck you,” Ryke curses.

Rose smacks Connor’s chest. “You walked in on them?”

“It was uninten onal,” Connor says easily. “Though the ming was bad —or perfect, depending on the way you look at it.”

“There’s no good fucking way to look at it,” Ryke retorts.

“Had I not walked in right then, I don’t think you would’ve come on her face at all.”

Ryke groans. “Just stop fucking talking.”

“Daisy?” Lily says, reaching out to comfort her li le sister, which instantly makes me feel like a dick. Well deserved, I know.

“It’s cool,” she says so ly and then winces, for real. “I mean, what happened wasn’t cool. It was…” She meets my gaze. “…almost as embarrassing as this.”

Ryke pinches his eyes like he’s wishing he could go back in me.

Yeah, now I feel like shit. My muscles constrict in taut bands. It’s like every me I open my mouth, I eventually feel this pain. It’s regret too shallow, always nding a way to surface. And s ll, I’d rather keep it there, right on the brink.

This guilt is what di eren ates me from my father. I know this.

I watch Ryke li Daisy onto his lap so she’s not slumping in humilia on. He wraps an arm protec vely around her collarbones, above her chest, and keeps shoo ng Connor and me an I fucking hate you right now look. It’s weak in comparison to our dad. And Connor is hardly even perturbed, just casually drinking his wine.

“Truth or dare?” Daisy suddenly asks Lily.

Lily goes rigid. “Truth?” she says unsurely.

I wait for the how many inches is Loren Hale? That’s the vindic ve ques on I would’ve shot back in her posi on. Rose would’ve too. Anything to embarrass me. That ques on doesn’t upset me though—but it’s not something I would want to willingly adver se.

Daisy plays too nice with me and asks Lily, “What’s your biggest pet peeve about Lo?”

Lil lts her chin up at me, and I stare down at her. “When you won’t let me hold the comic book because you think that I’ll crease the pages.”

I almost laugh. “That’s your biggest issue with me, love?”

She says, “It’s much more annoying than you realize.” She nods adamantly about this.

I’m possessive over my comics—that hasn’t changed since forever. “I won’t even let anyone else but you borrow seventy- ve percent of them.”

“I appreciate that,” she says. “But some of them are mine.”

“This is also true.” I realize I’m possessive over all comics then.

Lily has another turn to ask a truth or dare, and she focuses on Ryke this me. Only she’s avoiding his eyes. Great. She’s s ll scared of him a er being aroused by basically the en re male popula on. Fic onal and real.

“Truth or dare?” Lily asks, her voice quiet.

“Dare,” Ryke says, even more pissed by her cagy a tude. “Can you look at me?”

“No.”

He groans. “Why do you keep ac ng like I have a disease, Lily?”

I cut in, trying to make this easier for her, especially as she turns bright red again, “It’s not your turn to ask ques ons.”

Ryke glowers. “I really don’t want to fucking talk to you right now.”

Fine. I’m mostly to blame for his sour mood anyway. I nudge Lil, and she straightens up.

“I dare you to…do a handstand for thirty seconds.”

Sam nally drops his palm at this chaste dare. I wonder if there’s a possibility that fatherhood made him more conserva ve.

My hand falls to Lily’s abdomen. Kick, I stupidly command to our son.

Yeah, he does nothing, and I end up rubbing circles with my thumb on Lil’s stomach. She places her hand on top of mine. I exhale the restraint in my lungs.

I can’t even fathom how much I may change a er having a kid. I wonder whether it’ll be a be er me or a worse one.

To follow through with the dare, Daisy slides o my brother’s lap, and then Ryke rises to his feet. He easily places his palms on the ground and uses his upper-body strength to force his legs erect. Camera ashes from cellphones go o in waves.

Lily isn’t even watching Ryke, but Daisy leans over the couch armrest and whispers to her boyfriend. She must say something funny because his dark expression brightens a frac on.

When he nishes, easily landing back on his feet, he returns to the couch and holds Daisy again.

“I hoped you would roll over,” Connor quips. “I didn’t even get to rub your belly.”

Ryke is not amused. He doesn’t even ip him o this me. Shit.

Connor acts like he’s not in midated, but the look in my brother’s eye —one that says a ack—is not usually directed at us. I recoil as he says to Connor, “Dare or fucking dare?”

Connor nishes o his wine and sets the empty glass on the co ee table between the two couches. “I know in your own made-up language, adding a curse word changes the de ni on of the subsequent word, but to the rest of us, it’s all the same.”

“Dare or fucking dare?” Ryke doesn’t back down.

Connor takes his hand o Rose’s and he rubs his lips, as though trying to hide his irrita on. But I can’t tell for sure. “I pick the only choice you’re giving me.”

And then Ryke says, without missing a beat, “Kiss Loren. For thirty fucking seconds.”

Yeah.

He got us both back in one strike.

My stomach has caved.

And my eyes it up to Connor, who is studying me, mostly. I can’t read his expression, but he’s de nitely not uncomfortable like most people would be.

I’m con dent in my sexuality enough to do the dare—I just worry about the cameras pointed at us and how this’ll a ect his reputa on more than my own. He has more to lose, being the CEO of Cobalt Inc.

I no ce that Sam has covered his eyes again, ac ng like this is not happening. It may not.

“Can’t fucking do it?” Ryke challenges Connor, who I doubt has ever quit a game, even a “juvenile” one.

Without removing his gaze from mine, Connor says, “I’m just weighing my op ons.” He’s not Rose. Ryke’s phrase would’ve egged her to do it, too prideful not to—but Connor is more logical about his ac ons.

And then he rises. “Stand up,” he commands to me.

“Are you sure—”

“I can handle the backlash,” he says, and his eyes brie y icker to Ryke. I get it. He values his friendship with Ryke this much—that he’s willing to risk cri cism or a new headline in the tabloids just to even the playing

elds again. “Stand up.”

Jesus Christ. I’m going. I’m going. I set Lily on the cushion beside Daisy, and then I rise, facing him, a co ee table separa ng us.

How does this even fucking work? He’s two inches taller than me, and I have no idea who is going to go for it rst. I lick my lips nervously, and I wonder if this looks more sexual than anxious. I wipe my mouth with my hand and glance back at Lily. “Don’t look.” God fucking shit. I don’t need her to be aroused from this.

She hides her eyes behind her ngers, and I turn back to Connor.

Rose has said a few words in French that I can’t understand, but Connor never replies back. I have a feeling it’s because Ryke can understand him. And then Rose hu s and switches to English, “Loren, you look scared. Maybe you should sit down.”

Her voice is nicer than usual. I eye Connor. I look scared because your husband is domineering as hell.

She suddenly adds, “You’re an antelope and he’s a lion.” I picture a lion chasing an antelope. And killing it for food.

My shoulders tense at that truth. “Yeah?” I say to her, looking past Connor at Rose. “Are you an antelope too?”

She says, “I’m the same breed as him.”

“Toujours,” Connor tells her. I understand the French word because he says it all the me.

Always.

Right as I turn to Connor, his hand cups the back of my head.

And his lips touch mine.

My muscles solidify, and instead of just being awkwardly pressed together, he truly kisses me—with more con dence than I could ever possess.

I shut my eyes while his lips close over mine, and I try to follow his lead to the best of my ability. But Connor controls the ac on—and I’m grateful for that. His hand falls to my neck, and I nd myself gripping his bicep. My lungs thrashing for air as I cage all oxygen elsewhere.

“Fi een seconds,” I hear Poppy say.

I’ve never kissed a guy before, which has to be really apparent. In the last three seconds, I feel Connor grinning against my lips. I swear he’s entertained by the weirdest things.

“Time,” Poppy says.

We break apart at the same moment. My lips actually slightly s ng from the force. I wonder how many guys he’s kissed before. A er that, I highly doubt I’m the rst. There are just too many clues for me to believe otherwise.

Connor rubs his bo om lip with his thumb, winks at me and then spins to Ryke. “We’re even.”

Ryke nods, his brows raised in surprise.

“Did anyone else think that was hot?” Daisy says with a loopy smile, past psy.

“It was okay,” Rose says atly, which prompts Connor to study her with intrigue. I expected her to charge at me or him—since she hates me and she loves him and we just kissed.

But she doesn’t care. I can’t wrap my head around those two most of the me.

“Waitwaitwait,” Lily slurs, and alarm shoots into me. My a en on diverts to Lil, her ngers s ll shielding her eyes. “How hot was it? I need to know this!” My shoulders drop in relief that she’s okay.

“A solid eight,” Daisy declares, though she is staring only at Ryke right now. They’re giving fuck me eyes to each other. This is all wrong. “It’s masturba on worthy.”

I grimace. “Stop.”

“You’re stroking Connor’s ego,” Rose tells her sister.

Lily is another color en rely—solid red. Stroking. I’m cringing more now than I was during the damn thing.

“All of my sexual encounters are masturba on worthy,” Connor says. “This is nothing new.” He does, literally, have millions of people jacking o to his sex tapes with his wife.

I slow clap and Ryke joins in.

Connor smiles more.

The funny thing—other people in the club start clapping too. I can feel my smile. Fans can be really cool, despite a few hecklers here and there.

“An eight,” Lily repeats, astounded. “I can’t believe I missed it.”

I reclaim my seat on the couch. “It wasn’t like that, Lil.”

Poppy adds, “You’ll probably be able to Google it online.”

“She’s not allowed to look at porn,” Rose says.

“This wasn’t porn,” I announce to everyone.

“So I can watch it?” Lily asks, her hands s ll shielding her face. She’s picturing it right now. Probably further than anything that actually transpired. “Was their tongue?” she whispers to me, con rming my suspicions.

“No to both.” I pull Lil’s palm away from her eyes. And her gaze darts to my lips, as though imagining them against one of my best friend’s. It’s not a fantasy I want imbedded in her brain.

Connor sits beside Rose, and he kisses her forehead. She seems at ease.

Everyone does.

How could that break the tension in our group? Strain that I accidentally built from a dare.

And then Connor’s deep blue eyes meet mine, and he smiles at me, a genuine one that he only reserves for friends.

He can slice through arguments, lower boiling points and keep our friendship intact, not even remotely awkward a er we just kissed.

And he’s a part of my life.

Thank God.

Or rather, thank him. Yeah, I smile, he’d want me to rephrase that.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

LILY CALLOWAY

AFTER THE NIGHTCLUB, we amble along the sidewalk, heading towards the dock so we can return to the yacht. “Spill,” Rose says to Daisy, who is being supported mostly by me and Poppy, our arms around our li le sister’s waist.

Rose wants details about the sexual escapade that the guys knew before us. I kinda want more info too. All things involving blow jobs interest me, maybe a li le too much.

Instead of answering, Daisy dodges Rose’s request and inhales like she’s breathing in tonight’s full moon and gli ering stars. She raises her sts sloppily into the air and shouts, “HELLO, MEXICO!”

The four guys, sauntering twenty feet ahead of us, all turn their heads in unison. Damn. That was sexy. I can admit that without ushing, right?

I check my arms.

Nope. S ll red.

Ryke is the only one who remains spun around. He rotates fully, walking backwards with an aluminum-foiled taco in hand. Most of the guys are ea ng them a er we passed a food stand. I chose to go with dessert and eat a churro as a late-night snack.

Daisy focuses on her boyfriend and almost trips over her feet.

“Watch it, Calloway,” he tells her.

“You watch it,” she says, her retort not as good with her drunken state. Poppy and I hold her rmly to our sides.

“I am watching it,” Ryke says, his eyes right on hers, “and she looks like a hot fucking mess.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Daisy says in a smooth voice. Her smile radiates, but her eyelids droop.

Rose points an accusatory nger from Daisy to Ryke. “No ir ng. We’re having girl me.”

Ryke ignores her and says, “I’ll show you later, sweetheart.” And then he spins around, walking with the guys. Ryke places a hand on Lo’s shoulder, and they talk amongst themselves. Laughter emanates from their huddle, and Lo’s is the loudest, the most full-bellied and jam-packed with true happiness.

My eyes s ng with emo on.

Loren Hale is laughing.

It shouldn’t be a rare phrase. But it is.

I am most happy when he is happy. The same, I know, applies to him.

Poppy stares o into space before saying, “He has good lines.”

Daisy’s brows furrow. “Ryke?”

Poppy nods. “It was a cute one.” She smiles kindly at her.

“It wasn’t a line,” Daisy refutes with a deep frown. I sway, slightly shocked that she actually spoke her mind. I like this Daisy more than the one keeping the peace. It’s easier to tell when she’s having a good me and when she’s just appearing to for our sake.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Poppy says, giving her a side squeeze that unsteadies me. I gain my balance, thankfully. If I fall, so does my baby. It’s a thought that ckles my brain like a nervous spasm.

With only one free hand, I bite into my street-side churro that melts in my mouth. The long fried donut is a li le phallic looking, but I try to employ the Ryke Meadows a tude of “not caring what other people think.” An audible moan even leaves my lips. I don’t care.

My cheeks and elbows do though, burning with disgrace.

I chew slowly to prolong the next bite. Even though I crave it. I swallow way too soon.

“He came on your face,” Rose says bluntly.

Back to this. I join in. “And you didn’t even tell us.”

Poppy adds, “It’s obviously an embarrassing moment for her.”

Rose adjusts her handbag on her arm. “And if she told me when it happened, I would’ve bought her jewelry and a ‘fuck you’ dress.”

Daisy smiles. “What do those look like?”

Rose waves a nger at her. “No, no, you’re not going to distract me. I need more details than Connor.”

Daisy scrunches her nose. “That’s not possible. He was there.”

My eyes bug at all of this. I’ve encountered some pre y awkward moments in my life, but nothing like this. “Did you like it?” I ask the least important ques on, probably. I’m just curious if that’s a fantasy she’d repeat again.

“No,” Daisy says so ly, actually star ng to open up. Her arms like jelly,

opping by her sides. The liquor has just loosened her joints like a limp…

thing. I cough on my churro.

Rose pats my back with a s hand. “I told you not to eat that.”

I smash the churro into her chest since the dessert is obviously not nice to me. Disgruntled, she tosses it on the sidewalk.

Poppy gapes, “Rose, you shouldn’t li er.” Our oldest sister leaves our side to pick up the churro and nd a trashcan.

“I’m feeding the birds,” Rose calls a er Poppy, who is already on an environmental mission.

Daisy is much harder to keep upright on my own, but I manage somewhat, resitua ng my clutch around her hip. Rose must see my struggle though because she replaces Poppy, hooking her arm with Daisy’s and leisurely strolling along.

“I hate giving blow jobs,” Rose suddenly opens up. She rarely talks about her sex life with Connor, so my lips part in shock. Maybe she thinks it’s only fair to o er some info when she keeps prodding Daisy. “I mean…” She sighs and rolls her eyes. “The rst me wasn’t awful, but it’s my least favorite thing. I’m not good at it, and Connor is huge—do not men on that I complimented his dick. Please.”

I am soaring with these dbits. “My lips are zipped.” No they are not. My mouth is permanently hung open. Though I can keep a sisterly secret. Rose has entrusted me with some before.

“Do you like them?” Daisy asks me with a psy smile.

“Yeah,” I say without blushing. Ah-ha! Success. “I like the control and watching Lo…” come. I can feel my ears hea ng. Damn.

“I’ve never really liked them,” Daisy says honestly. “And with Ryke, I can some mes tell that he’d rather be pleasing me instead of me pleasing him. So he usually stops me before I get him o .”

“Aww,” I say. I’ve never made this sound out loud before, but this is an aww moment if there ever was one in my book. Some people would call it a perverted book, but I think I’m going to rename it The Lily Calloway Sexy Times Book.

It has a nice ring to it. And it makes me feel less like a creep.

Daisy tries to hide a bigger smile. “You know the dare?” She’s going to give us details?! Rose and I listen closely, very intrigued. “I was giving Ryke a blow job for the very rst me, and that’s when Connor walked in.” She tucks her hair behind her ear, and the crowds that follow us (yes, people are trailing us, along with our bodyguards) grow in octave, so Daisy has to raise her voice. “I heard the door open, and I jerked back the same exact moment…” she trails o .

“He ejaculated,” Rose nishes without balking.

I wince. “Do you have to use that term?”

“Yes,” Rose says with con dence. I wonder if I’m making Daisy feel more ashamed by being all ashamed myself. It’s a nasty cycle that I want to break.

“Lo has come on me before,” I state. Wow it kinda felt good.

Daisy smiles. “Really?”

“Yeah, my face too. But not that much anymore.” I frown deeply, thinking about our current stasis of being. I feel healthier, and I like that Lo has spaced out all these steps with sex over months and months. It’s be er to go slow.

Fast is not the right speed for me.

Daisy looks a li le lost in her head.

“What is it?” I ask.

She takes a deep breath. “Do you ever just want to run? Like strip all of your clothes and speed down a street, using all of your strength, no one stopping you but yourself?”

It sounds freeing, but I can’t say it’s a thought that’s ever crossed my mind. A er two minutes of pathe cally running, I’d face-plant or grow out of breath—baby or no baby.

“No,” Rose says de ni vely. “I don’t run. I walk quickly.” This has been her mo o since she discovered high heels.

To Daisy, I say, “In theory it seems kind of nice.”

She springs on her feet like she’s ready to take o . “All theories should be tested, at least once.”

“RYKE, STOP!” Lo suddenly screams ahead of us.

My heart is in my throat. Ryke has charged some random guy wearing a surfer graphic tee and frayed shorts. Lo restrains his brother by the shoulders.

Ryke spits out nasty words…all in Spanish. We walk faster to reach the guys.

“Go!” Rose shouts at the bodyguards and mo ons them like she’s herding ca le. “They need your help.”

Mikey says, “We’re contracted to protect Daisy, Lily and Poppy, so we’re not leaving their sides.”

Rose glares and then mu ers curses while she searches for her pepper spray in her handbag.

Poppy has fallen behind, xated on a vendor’s booth selling porcelain sugar skulls, and Dave, her bodyguard, hovers over her. She seems highly unaware of what’s happening, and Sam is sprin ng towards Poppy, leaving Connor, Loren, and Ryke alone.

“Traitor,” Rose calls at him. “Your gender needs you!”

“So does Poppy!” he shouts back.

Rose purses her lips, and I focus on the surfer tee heckler, who follows our guys for every step they take. He’s not alone. With his two buddies, they jeer in Spanish. I can tell by the way they pump out their chests, their muscles exed and their arms ges cula ng.

Three guys. Maybe these people aren’t random. Lo said that three guys have been pestering them all day, wherever they go. Maybe they found them again.

“Should we…?” Daisy hesitates to run to Ryke, but I hold her jelly arm in a rm grip.

“No, let’s stay out of it.” Though I want to be closer. So we keep our pace.

Ryke yells in Spanish so loud that my ears blister. There is pain in his voice, beneath the anger, and Lo struggles to detain him as he thrashes. “Connor,” Lo says, looking for help. Connor is listening intently to these three guys, not intervening.

We’re only ve feet away. Surfer Tee yells at Ryke and Lo with just as much venom, and then laughs mockingly like he’s won a ba le. Our lives are open to the public, like we live in a glass house, and people enjoy tapping on the walls, wai ng and wai ng for a reac on, for that li le bit of entertainment. Forge ng that we aren’t performers or mannequins put on display.

Forge ng that we can feel all the same.

“CONNOR!” Lo screams for help again, Ryke tearing through his arms. He’s stronger than Lo. This has always been fact.

“Let him go,” Connor says in a stoic voice.

“What?” Lo breathes out the word. It pains me. I’m so close to him now. I reach out like I can touch him, but I feel a large hand on my shoulder. Garth.

He draws me to the side by a foot or two so I’m not smacked by ailing limbs. Daisy slips out of my grip, and Rose leaves her to strut further ahead towards the ght. Daisy stays upright on her own, swaying only a li le.

“Connor, help me,” Lo pleads.

“I won’t,” Connor says like he wants Ryke to ght these people. “Just let him go, Lo.”

Then Surfer Tee creates a V-shape with his ngers and obscenely s cks his tongue through it. His eyes have shi ed. And they land right on me. Chills race down my spine.

Lo glances over his shoulder, nding the source of the ridicule.

It was me.

All of it, I realize.

Maybe they’re saying my vagina is too big. I’m gross. I’ve slept with hundreds of faceless men. I’m diseased and disgus ng. I am not t to be a mom. I am and will always be a sex addict. Nothing more than that. I have heard it all and read it on social media. Though never have I witnessed it in Spanish.

I take another step forward, and Lo screams at me, “LILY, STAY BACK!”

My heart stops. The wrathful, pained look on his face plants me here as much as his voice. And his eyes icker to my belly. I didn’t mean—I wouldn’t put my baby in harm’s way. I wasn’t going to. It’s just…Lo.

He breathes raggedly and nods to me like, please, Lily.

I nod back.

When he ensures that I won’t risk my safety, he spins back to his brother. In a single instant, Lo removes his hands o Ryke, and this is when I think Ryke will lose all self-control and throw a st rst, tapping into his aggressive side. He’s snapped. Long before now. But he doesn’t even have his sts barred yet, not even raised for a right hook or a sucker punch. He steps forward, then stops.

It’s so quick. The tallest of the hecklers charges him, his eyes set on Ryke. In three lengthy strides, he nails his knuckles into Ryke’s jaw. I can feel my heart bea ng out of my chest.

That is a sucker punch, one that lands Ryke on the cement pathway.

The other two hecklers jump on Ryke, which causes Lo to snatch their arms and land a punch or two.

I inch as a pair of knuckles connects with Lo’s face. “Stop!” I shout at the hecklers, nding my voice with Lo’s pain. The dark ocean water is on our right, shops on our le , the moon overhead, the dock in view. We’re not that far away from the tugboat which’ll bring us to the anchored yacht.

“This is not happening,” Rose says, heading even further forward with her pepper spray in hand. The moment she passes Connor, he seizes her wrist.

“What do you think you’re doing, darling?”

“I’m gh ng for my sister,” she says seriously. She’s pregnant too. And while I love having a sister that’d be willing to insert herself into a st- ght on my behalf, now’s not a good me.

Even Daisy has enough sense to stay put—

Just as I think it, she sprints forward. And Mikey catches her around the waist. She kicks out. “Let me help him.”

“No, Daisy,” Mikey tells her.

“This is…sexist,” she says, her arms opping around with her legs.

“Agreed,” Rose says to Connor.

“Hun,” Connor tells her, “do I need to remind you that you’re a vessel for our unborn child?”

“Are you trying to infuriate me more?” she retorts. “Now I just want to punch you.”

“I’m a truthteller. If you don’t like what I have to say, take it up with the liars of the world.” And then we’re all distracted when Surfer Tee kicks Lo hard below his chest.

“Lo!” I scream, especially as Lo crumples to the ground. My stomach caves, remembering his preexis ng injury: broken ribs from the Paris riot. Hot tears squeeze through the corners of my eyes.

“Please don’t do anything rash,” Connor forces to Rose. And then he inserts himself in this ght, to defend Lo and pull him out of it. Connor ducks an incoming right hook and then protec vely stands above Lo so no one can touch him. I watch Lo cough hoarsely on the cement.

He was laughing only minutes ago.

This is wrong.

I jerk forward on ins nct, to hold Lo, to hug him. To wrap my arms around him. But Garth keeps me put.

A st pounds into Connor’s cheekbone as it becomes two on one, as Ryke turns his a en on to Surfer Tee and lands a solid blow in his stomach. It’s reciprocated with knuckles to Ryke’s lip. They’re all bea ng the shit out of each other. I hate this. I glance back at our bodyguards, trying to express every sen ment and plea in my eyes.

Please, help them.

Garth and Mikey exchange a look between each other, and that’s all it takes. They release their holds on Daisy and me. Not so we can join the

ght, but so they can.

It’s like adding a couple of trump cards. The minute they step in, Garth pries Ryke o Surfer Tee, and Mikey assists Connor, keeping the other two at bay. The intensity drops by a million degrees.

Ryke spits blood on the cement and says something vola le at the hecklers in Spanish. It’s such a scary ght that I didn’t realize I was shaking un l Rose reaches out and clutches my ji ery hand.

“They’re okay,” Rose says so ly.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” I murmur. I watch Ryke throw his palms in the air like I’m done, I’m done. He wipes his bloody mouth with the back of his hand.

I’ve conquered my fear of facing daylight, of standing among fans, now excited when they approach for sel es. I’m no longer crippled by the constant a en on. No longer a scared li le hermit who hides in her house. But I don’t want to come out to nd Lo beaten on the ground, accompanied by more people that I love.

“What if they had a knife?” I realize this could’ve been worse, easily. “What if they had a gun?” I freeze.

Rose says, “We can only tolerate so much un l we snap. Ryke’s easier to enrage, but Connor’s not and he was upset. So you have to know that whatever they were saying must’ve been verging on a threat.” She raises her chin. “If I wasn’t pregnant—”

“You would punch back?” I presume.

“I would impale their gross, li le black hearts with my heels.”

Thank God she’s on my side and not against me.

The hecklers have separated from our men, and they weakly stagger back, blood staining their shirts and a few shiners swelling their eyes.

Lo, Ryke, and Connor only appear minutely be er, blood s ll spla ering their clothes. All of them have taken hits. Connor is crouched over Lo, talking to him quietly while he nods like I’m okay.

I try to exhale a ght breath in my chest.

Ryke nally turns towards us, and he locks eyes with Daisy, who is all alone, a few feet ahead of me and Rose. Her chest rises and falls in a heavy, uneven rhythm, like she’s su oca ng beneath a brutal wave.

Ryke assesses her as much as she assesses him.

She tugs at her ght shirt, and I remember her earlier thought about stripping and racing ahead and being held down by nothing at all.

Go, I want to tell her. She can sprint to the dock. The hecklers have disappeared down a side-street, out of sight. She’s safe.

But her feet stay on the ground, in place. “The full moon makes you crazy, you know,” she tells him so ly.

“No more fucking crazy than you.” He steps nearer to Daisy and then draws her to his chest. His hand disappears beneath her shirt, as though stretching it so she’s not as claustrophobic. The gesture is sweet. “And it’s not the full moon, Dais. It’s just people who want to shit on the ones I love. I can’t fucking take it.”

My shoulders li with that proclama on. Lo is s ll hurt and my stomach won’t un e un l he’s in my arms and I’m in his.

So I head over to him as soon as he stands, wincing and favoring his ribs. I almost start shaking again at the ash of agony in his features. “Lo?” I whisper.

He stares down at me, his lip busted. Connor’s cheekbone is red and will probably bruise. But just by sight, Ryke has the worst of it: both cheeks and his lip beat up and bloodied.

“I’m ne,” Lo says.

“So ne that I can hug you?” I ask skep cally. He’s pu ng on a good front.

“Go ahead, Lil,” he nods.

I gently wrap my arms around him, keeping distance between our bodies.

His warm breath touches my temple as he whispers, “That’s not how we hug.”

“I’m not hur ng you,” I tell him adamantly. “I know you’re in pai—”

And then he squeezes me to his chest, in a common embrace for us, one where our bodies meld together with no seeming beginning and end. It’s like we’re one. I feel his heart thud, thud, thud against my skin.

I’m not sure how long we stay like this, frozen in me, shielding the world from us. It’s a moment that eclipses the rest of the day and shortens my lifespan to a single solitary snapshot. My belly u ers, a literal movement that causes me to straighten like a board.

“Lo…” I whisper.

“Lil?” He scru nizes my expression.

It happens again, only this me, stronger, like a foot… I touch my abdomen, my heart quickening.

“Is he…” Lo trails o .

I nod. “I think so.”

Lo places his hand on my belly, and a er a few quiet seconds, the faint movement happens again. Lo’s eyes smile so much that I laugh into one.

And then he kisses me, so suddenly. His lips right on mine. My arms right around him. His around me. Where they’re meant to be.

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY

LOREN HALE

“SHUT THE DOOR,” Ryke orders, ipping on the faucet. I close the yacht’s bathroom door behind me and sink on the led oor against the porcelain tub.

I wrap an arm around my ribs that shriek in pain, maybe fractured again. I try to ignore it. I’ve had this injury before, and all I can do is wait for it to heal. Since I’m an addict, they always advise to forgo medica on. I won’t take anything to numb this.

“Fuck.” Ryke winces as he rinses his bloodied knuckles beneath the water.

Connor inspects his own bruised cheekbone in the mirror and says something to Ryke in French, who replies back.

“Stop,” I tell them, each large breath stabbing my lungs. “I have to know.” The girls are trying to calm down their parents, woken up a er a text from an overly concerned Poppy. All I want to know is why the hell these guys have been following us and what they were saying about Lily.

Ryke and Connor share hesitance, and it’s like someone kicks me again in the ribs.

“I can take it,” I say with everything I have.

I can take it.

No one is going to bury me. I have to trust myself, more than ever. Because I picture a life where I never stand up on my own, where I’m stuck leaning on Ryke and Connor, and it hurts. I want to take those rst steps by myself again. For one turn of fate, I’d like to be the kind of guy that braces them from falling.

It’s always felt impossible.

But it’s a goal that’s been keeping me moving.

“This won’t push me over,” I con nue. “I won’t drink. I just need to know.”

Ryke turns back to the sink and washes his face.

Connor sits on the toilet lid and stares at the ground, haunted almost.

“Goddammit,” I sneer with burning eyes. “Someone say something.” It’s killing me.

“I’m trying…” Ryke presses a towel to his lip and then leans against the wall. His eyes are also on the ground.

I sit higher up, but the pain shoots through my body and I stay slightly slouched. “I know it’s about Lily.” My tendons sear.

“It’s not just because I don’t think you can handle it,” Ryke suddenly tells me. He pulls the towel away from his lip, focusing on the damp cloth. “It’s that…” His face twists. “…I don’t know if I can translate it without screaming.”

“Just give me something,” I choke out the words.

Connor is quiet, looking concerned for me.

“I can handle it,” I remind him.

“I know you can,” Connor says. I can tell that he’s placa ng me, saying what I want to hear.

Ryke balls the towel in his hand. “I’m just going to let some of it out as fast as I can.”

I nod.

“How many guys have pounded into that slut?” he says at rst. It’s another swi kick.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Don’t think about it.

“Is she s ll full of their cum?”

I shi , pain intensifying in my gut, but it’s not from my ribs anymore. I can feel the type of torment Lily would experience if she heard these exact words. And the part that belongs to her is sunken with agony. The part that belongs to me is ra ling with rage.

“Bring her here…” Ryke’s voice breaks.

I open my eyes, and my brother is covering his mouth like he wants to scream and punch someone again.

My eyes are on re, holding back. Why are you fucking crying? Stop crying. I’m not crying. “Keep going,” I prod.

“I can’t,” Ryke says, shaking his head. He runs a hand through his hair.

“You have to,” I tell him.

Ryke cringes at me, like he sees into me.

“Just say the rest,” I almost yell.

“No.” He shakes his head again and steps away from the wall. “I’m fucking done torturing you. You’re in fucking pain right now, and you want me to put you in more pain.”

Is that what this is? Masochism. “I can take it,” I remind him.

“I can’t!” He points at his chest, his eyes bloodshot like mine. He breathes heavily, staring down at me, and he says, “Bring her here, we want to see how many cocks can t inside her…” He trips up, and his voice cracks again. “I can’t.”

I’m crying.

I only realize it when the sound of a sob breaches my lips. Wet tears slide down, and I bring my knees up, res ng my forearms on them. I hang my head. Stop crying.

“Keep going,” I say in a choked whisper.

I’m surprised that Connor hears me. He takes over and speaks clinically, “how many cocks can t inside her giant cunt. You be er have a leash on your bitch; we plan on riding her tonight.”

The pain rips through my chest.

Ryke is beside me on the ground while Connor keeps talking. I sit idle between rage and grief, my emo ons at war. I want to shut it all out, but then I want to feel the coldest, harshest parts of it. Maybe then it won’t hurt me anymore.

A er ve minutes, my hands balled into sts, my shoulders shaking and my cheeks slick with tears, I whisper, “Stop.”

I reached my limit. I understand why Ryke snapped a fuse back in the street. It’s just too much.

I want to protect Lily from this type of ridicule, but I can’t. And I think that’s the hardest thing to grapple with—that people would come face-to-face with us and say this shit outright.

And there is nothing we can do but sit here and bear it.

Get thicker skin. Don’t be so sensi ve, Loren. I am in love with Lily. To be unfeeling from someone hur ng her—no rage, no grief—I’d have to be a fucking robot.

No armor can block out this pain. No booze this me. And I remember —almost one whole year ago, I heard defaming words about me and my father. I slid to the oor. I reached into a cupboard for a bo le of Glen ddich. I broke my sobriety for the rst me. And I never got o the ground that night. Not on my own.

Being in the media, I’ve learned to live with this hurt, stand up, and move on.

It’s what I’ll do now. It’s what I’ll do tomorrow and the next day. For however long this ght goes on.

Just stand up.

And I rise slowly to my feet. Heavy and shackled with weight.

I s ll move.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

LOREN HALE

“SO LET me get this fucking straight,” my father says in an edged voice, “the four of you a acked three guys who’ve been harassing you all day. In the middle of the goddamn street?”

We couldn’t avoid our parents for long. As soon as we le the bathroom, Greg and Jonathan called us into the yacht’s living room. I stand between Ryke and Connor while Sam is on the end, the only one of us not beat to shit.

“Technically, they punched Ryke rst,” I o er.

“But it doesn’t take away from the fact that you all responded the way you did,” Greg says, facing us with my dad. All the girls, including Lily’s mom, are situated on the couches behind us. Watching. Like we’re tes fying in an informal hearing or something. Like we’re li le kids about to be grounded.

“I’m not a boy,” Ryke says, somehow not cursing.

“Did hi ng someone make you feel like a big man?” our dad taunts. I focus on the crystal glass in Jonathan’s hand: clear liquid with ice cubes.

Not vodka, I want to believe. I wish I trusted him, but a lot surrounding my father has pissed me o this trip, most notably the “date” he brought. I’m surprised she’s not even in the living room right now. She’s been glued to his hip since we le port.

“Fuck o ,” Ryke says, not in the mood for an interroga on. I don’t think any of us are.

Greg interjects, “Se le down. We’re just trying to understand what happened.” His gaze traverses along all of us, inspec ng our wounds, and my expression only says I want out of here, now. My emo ons s ll grip my muscles like a vice. Every malicious word that Connor and Ryke translated blinks back into my head. Don’t think about it. I’m trying.

God. I’m trying.

Greg’s gaze stops on Sam. “Why aren’t you all torn up?”

“I stayed out of it, sir,” he says. “The ght really shouldn’t have started in the rst place. If we’d all just ignored them like I had suggested, I don’t think they would have a acked Ryke.”

I grit my teeth, and I turn my body, about to step towards him. Connor blocks my path, but I can’t shut up about this. “Hey, Sammy,” I say with ice in my eyes, “why don’t you go be a hero on another boat.” I lash out at him, even though I’m angry at the situa on. “No one cares about your self-righteous bullshit.” The guilt doesn’t even tear a big enough hole inside of me. Maybe I’m already split open.

“Loren,” Poppy defends her husband, about to spring up from the loveseat. Samantha Calloway grips her shoulder and forces her back down.

“No.” I’m not done. I point at Sam. “He le us, and now he’s ac ng like he’s the goddamn peacekeeper, like he knows best.” No one knows. Not me. Not anyone. I meet Sam’s narrowed eyes that blaze with hatred towards me. It’s a look I’ve received almost every day of my life from people that I’ve barely met. “You don’t know what’s best, Captain America. You don’t even know what’s right. So stop pretending like you do.”

Connor Cobalt, of all people, said yes to a ght by refusing to restrain Ryke. He wanted these guys to be punched in the face. That has to count for something.

“I le you to help Poppy,” Sam retorts. “Otherwise, I would’ve been there.”

“Poppy has a bodyguard,” Greg replies, fear in his voice, like she was in trouble. She wasn’t. “She should’ve been taken care of.” He turns to Dave, a bodyguard with dark shades on. He sits at the breakfast table with Mikey and Garth.

“She was ne,” Dave con rms.

Sam shakes his head repeatedly. “I’m not seriously being reprimanded for looking a er her.”

“You look a er the family,” Greg says.

“My family is Poppy and Maria.”

Greg quiets, silently upset. Truthfully, I’ve only ever heard him yell at Sam and Ryke, but this me he enacts his usual I’m disappointed in you look and stays s ll.

Jonathan takes over. “Your family is everyone in this fucking room,” he retorts. “We’re all bound together one way or another, and there will be a

me where you need him.” He points at Ryke. “Or him.” He mo ons to me.

“Just as they needed you tonight. So you want to be a sel sh li le fuck and paddle out on your own li le lifeboat and leave everyone else to drown, so be it. You go do that, Samuel. Because when the rest of us are carrying lifejackets, we won’t throw you one.”

It’s harsh. But nothing about our lifestyle is smooth or easy or uncomplicated. It’s always been us versus everyone else. And it’s hardest when we turn on each other. We all know it. I’m even to blame for causing ri s, but it’s be er to stay together than be apart.

“I’m trying,” Sam says slowly, “to grapple with this concept. I’m not used to these kids—”

“I’m not a kid,” I say heatedly.

“I remember you as one,” Sam says. “And if you were grown up, you wouldn’t have given those guys a reac on or a reason to start a worthless

ght. You’re about to have a baby—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ryke suddenly interjects, protec ng me from Sam’s words.

I can take it.

I can take it, I believe.

Connor nally speaks. His voice is temperate in a room of combus ble personali es. “I understand where you’re coming from, Sam, but before you cast judgment on Loren, you don’t even know what the ght was about. Unless you can suddenly speak Spanish?”

Sam shakes his head and quiets. Then he says, “I’m sorry.”

I realize he’s looking at me.

I frown deeply, confused. It’s like Connor has some sort of hypnosis over him. But I take it with a nod. I can’t fathom what it’s like to have a kid to protect, but in his posi on, I doubt we’d choose what he did. There is a di erence between us and him. We’re all loyal to each other. He was right —we’re younger than him. We grew up together, experiencing monumental moments at the same me.

Sam doesn’t know us.

Not really.

His allegiance is blind, based on rela onships set out in paper and ink. Not in emo ons or blood. Maybe that’s why it’s harder for him.

“What were they saying in Spanish?” Greg asks, looking between Ryke and Connor.

Everyone goes quiet, and my ribs ame. I’m rigid and unmoving.

“Someone speak,” my dad cuts in, his ngers ghtening around his glass.

“It was about Lily,” I let out, though I can’t say anything more than that.

The room grows silent, and I crane my neck over my shoulder. Lily clutches the armrest of the couch and produces a weak smile for me. Lil.

She knew it was about her. This whole me.

She knew.

The bo om of my stomach drops and then constricts.

“I have a ques on,” Greg chimes in again. I expect him to ask speci cally what the hecklers said, but his gaze sets on Connor. “Where was Rose if you were in the ght? She doesn’t have a bodyguard.” I’m sel shly thankful that he’s redirected the conversa on onto someone else.

“I trusted my wife,” Connor says easily. “I had to make a choice, and I made it.”

My father takes a swig of his drink, and I hone in on the liquid again. “At least we all know where your priori es lie.”

Connor stays impassive at the insult. “I’m not a knight in shining armor, and I’ve never insinuated myself to be one. I leave that to the men who like to straddle horses and prance around in meadows.”

Ryke actually laughs beside me, knowing it was a lighthearted shot at him.

I smile too. God, how the hell am I smiling right now? It fades pre y fast.

“You’re spineless,” my father says into his next gulp. My face contorts in a grimace.

“If I’m spineless, then every man in comparison is an annelid.”

My father’s brows shoot up. “An anus?”

Rose cuts in, “A worm.”

Connor is grinning, loving that his wife understood him. “Jonathan,” he says easily, “the fact that Rose is completely unharmed, si ng right there”—he gestures to Rose behind him—“suggests that I chose right and you’re wrong. So please, con nue to argue against evidence.”

Greg interjects before my dad can speak, “The real issue here is the fact that Garth and Mikey had to step away from Daisy and Lily to protect you three.” He mo ons to Ryke, me, and Connor. And I suddenly realize what this interroga on has been about all along.

“No,” Ryke snaps.

“Yes,” our dad says, “you’re all ge ng bodyguards. Maybe then they’ll protect you from going to jail.” Fine with me.

“That’s a great idea,” Rose says, raising her chin, her palms at on her knees. “It was imbalanced to place bodyguards with all the girls and not the guys to begin with.”

“You’re ge ng one too,” Greg tells his daughter.

Rose’s eyes bore holes in his forehead. “No. I don’t need one. I’ve proven that.”

“Like you said, hun,” Connor tells her, “it’s an evening of power.” He’s happy about this—I see it in his deep blue eyes. He’s wanted Rose to have a bodyguard since we became immersed in the media.

Ryke is pissed. “I don’t want a guy following me.”

“Why?” Greg asks.

Ryke runs a hand through his thick brown hair, an anxious tell. “Because,” he says with a low breath, unable to let out his explana on. Come on, Ryke. Maybe he’s censoring himself so he’s not disrespec ul or he’s just having trouble explaining at all.

“That’s not going to cut it.”

“I’m twenty- ve-years-old,” Ryke proclaims, “no one in this fucking room can control the things that I choose to do with my life…” His voice dies o quickly, most likely remembering Hale Co. and what he’s striving towards now, even if it’s the last thing he really wants.

I’m trying to understand why he’s rmly against a bodyguard, and I honestly can’t gure it out.

“You don’t have a job,” Greg starts lis ng o facts. “A er you were thrown in jail, every athle c endorsement deal you had for rock climbing disappeared. You are nancially dependent on your trust fund that your father controls.”

Ryke’s face hardens. “Then he takes away my trust fund.”

I shake my head at my brother. Losing his nancial security over a bodyguard—it’s not worth it.

“And what about my daughter?” Greg plays that card, like he has the ability to remove Daisy from Ryke’s life. It’s fucked up.

“Dad,” Daisy says with wide eyes, si ng next to Lily.

Ryke tenses considerably. And in a controlled voice, he says, “I don’t want a fucking bodyguard speeding a er me on a motorcycle, accompanying me to every rock face I climb.” His chest rises strongly and he points at the ground. “I don’t want a fucking bodyguard shoving me away from Daisy. And I don’t want one trying to restrain me from protec ng my li le brother.” He feels threatened by someone who doesn’t even exist yet.

“Let’s compromise,” Greg says. “You’ll have a bodyguard when you’re in public with my daughters. Fair enough?”

Ryke struggles to accept this.

I place my hand on his shoulder and whisper to him, “It’s a good o er.”

Ryke takes a deep breath, and a er a long second, he nods tensely in agreement.

“We need to have a talk about your future,” Greg says to Ryke. I’ve heard those words too many mes, from him and from Jonathan. It’s weird having them directed at someone else. “I need you to do something for me involving Fizzle, but if you keep telling me that you’re unwilling to help, then maybe you don’t love my daughter like you say you do.”

Ryke lets out a weak laugh, his eyes reddening. “I love your daughter like the sun, and I could say and do a thousand things, and you’d never accept me.”

“You haven’t even done one thing,” Greg says with the raise of his brows. “I’m asking for one. This is easy. You’ll hear me out a er everyone goes to bed, okay?”

Daisy starts, “Dad, don’t—”

“Dais, it’s ne,” Ryke says, squashing an argument easily. I wouldn’t want to cause a ri between Lily and her father, and I know Ryke feels the same. He nods to Greg again. “I’ll hear you out.”

My dad has one-fourth of his drink le . He’s xated on it—or maybe I am. He’s almost going to nish it o , and I can’t keep specula ng. On impulse, I step forward and steal the glass from him.

He cocks his head at me like really, son?

I sni the liquid, just smelling lime, but I see carbona on bubbles. Gin and tonic?

And then Jonathan Hale, with his graying sideburns, narrows his deadly eyes and gives me a single dark look: drink it, son. If you don’t fucking trust me.

I go cold, put the rim of the glass to my lips—

“Lo!” Ryke yells, his hand clamping on my shoulder, about to tear the glass from me.

It’s too late. The liquid slides down, and my taste buds catch all the ingredients. Ryke rips the drink from my hands.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” he yells at our dad. Not at me. Thinking he just broke his sobriety and mine too.

“It’s just carbonated water and lime,” I tell Ryke the truth, a pang of guilt hi ng me. My dad wouldn’t sneak around. If he was drinking again, he’d aunt it. I shouldn’t have ques oned him in the rst place.

Ryke isn’t convinced. He takes a swig of the drink, and a er he tastes the water, his muscles start to relax.

Our dad sighs at Ryke, “I understand why you don’t trust me, son, but you should at least trust your brother. He wouldn’t lie to you.”

“My track record isn’t good,” I say under my breath and then rub my neck.

The silence stretches in the room—like I reminded everyone how many

mes I’ve fucked up. It’s not like I can showcase my triumphs. They’re

hidden behind every mistake.

A redheaded girl abruptly climbs the stairs into the yacht’s living room, adding to the strain. She pinches the stem of a wine glass, her glossy hair draped across her shoulder in curls, wearing a silk green dress that’s prac cally lingerie.

I tug at the collar of my shirt, my stomach tossing.

She’s twenty-six.

And my father’s date.

Seeing her sours my body, especially as she struts over to my dad and presses her lips against his. I turn my head the same me that Ryke does.

I spent my en re life watching women of all ages parade in and out of my house. Never once did he invite them for an extra night. He a ended every party stag. No ma er if I was ve or een or twenty. He was single

in public. At night, he did what he wanted.

I never asked why he refused to marry again or to even date. But now that he’s chosen to do it with a girl prac cally Ryke’s age—it only makes me sick.

I try to breathe, and my ribs ache. I need air.

Without a word, I just head through the sliding glass doors, the moon illumina ng the deck. I bypass the hot tub on the way to the railing.

I just…

I look up at the sky, full of stars, a glowing moon. And I inhale the s cky air, pain shoo ng through my lungs as they expand. I wince and rest my forearms on the railing, bent over like a force bears on my shoulders. Gravity is tugging me towards the ocean. Bringing me down.

I hear the glass door open and shut, but I don’t turn to see which sorry person has decided to spend extra me with me.

“Do you remember the Cayman Islands trip?” Lily asks, staring at the water in reverence.

My heart pounds, an added beat, happy it’s her. Here. With me. “When we were seven?” I think hard, trying to wash away the blurry haze of our childhood.

She nods. “Our dads had a business trip for the week, and they brought us on this yacht.”

It starts coming back. We were carted around to most of their mee ngs instead of being kept in daycare. Just us two and a ton of older cigar-smoking men. “We built a fort in the bow with couch cushions,” I recall. I smile at the image of her thin build and big eyes. She was quiet and shy and when the stewards came around to ask us if we’d like any drinks, she’d whisper her order in my ear.

I also can’t remember a night where we didn’t sleep in the same bed. Innocent sleepovers. At rst they all were, and somewhere along the way, we changed. I fell in love with her.

She smiles at a memory. “You used to tell me that if I didn’t hold onto the railing, I’d fall right o the boat. Like an automa c spring would pop up underneath my feet and catapult me overboard.”

I nod a couple mes. “I didn’t want you to get too close.” I was scared of my best friend drowning. I feared that possibility over my own death as a kid. And then a bigger memory triggers. “You realize we were husband and wife back then.”

She squints at me, trying to picture this.

I gape, teasingly. “You can’t remember our rst wedding, love?” I touch my heart. “I’m wounded.” It was right before the Cayman Islands trip. We were just playing pretend, but a er we went through the “ceremony” in our backyard, I called Lily my wife on the boat. My dad even fed into it, telling me to “go get my wife for dinner” when Lily was taking too long in the shower.

In our twen es, I never thought we’d be here again. With these feelings more intense than the rst ones. With love more powerful. A bad day can overturn into a be er one. And all we have to do is be with each other.

Unable to hide her own smile, she says, “We were husband and wife.”

“We were.” I wrap my arm around her waist, bringing her closer. And I kiss her nose.

She’s glowing.

And the pressure on my chest—I realize that it’s gone. Just like that.

I felt my son move tonight. It’s a thought that puts every irrita on aside. For the longest me, I thought maybe he hadn’t really been alive. Maybe he was going to be swept from us.

I recognize now what’s important to me. Him. Her. All three of us. “Lil…” I stare down at her green eyes that glimmer in the moonlight. “I’m remarrying you.”

Her lips part. “What?” We haven’t brought marriage up since before I

rst relapsed, over a year ago.

I turn to her and cup her cheeks in my hands. “Someday we’re going to have another wedding, and it’s going to blow our seven-year-old one out of the fucking water.”

Her smile rises, but it’s lled with heartache, and one of her tears falls on my hand. “Lo,” she whispers, “it’s okay if it never happens, as long as we’re together…it’s enough.”

I screwed it up for us when I relapsed. She believed in something and then I crushed it. “Seven-year-old Lily loved being married to me,” I tell her with a weak smile. “I gave you a million piggyback rides.”

“You said that’s what married couples do,” she notes, her eyes right on mine.

My hands fall to her hips. “Someday I’m going to make it right again,” I say so ly. “Promises from me don’t mean much.” I know this. “So I’m going to give you something be er.” I shi her behind me, and then I easily li her onto my back.

I can feel her smiling as she wraps her legs around my waist, her arms around my neck. I hold her securely beneath her knees and I walk towards the bow. “Fly away with me, Lily Calloway?”

She whispers, “Only if we make-believe that we never, ever have to grow up.”

“There’s a problem with that, love,” I say, carrying her on my back across the deck.

“What’s that?” she asks, and I picture her adorable crinkled brows.

I’m smiling more than I have all night. “Our make-believe always turns out real.”

From our pretend weddings, to our pretend rela onship—in the end, it’s all become reality. And I would love to never, ever grow up with Lily Calloway. In one universe, we’ll be young forever.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

LILY CALLOWAY

I STARE hard at Lo’s back. It’s bare and naked and teasing me. Normally I’d be compelled to jump on him. Koala-bear-style. Now April and back in Philly, my belly has grown much bigger since Daisy’s birthday, so large that it’s a hindrance for all future piggyback rides.

He concentrates on the wall, running a paint roller across the surface. He only removed his shirt when he realized he had on his Cobalt Diamonds tee, a gi from Connor. And like my sister, Connor takes complete o ense if you don’t take good care of his gi s. He wouldn’t appreciate a spla er of blue paint across his company’s logo.

My space on the wall looks pathe c in comparison to his sec on. In defense, all I’m working with is a small paint brush, and it doesn’t help that I’ve been taking breaks. The rocking chair calls out to me. Not only is it the only piece of furniture in the room, it relaxes all of my achy muscles.

Si ng on the oorboards, I languidly move my brush against the wall, not caring much about being neat or perfect. My eyes have landed on a new beauty.

Lo’s bu .

It’s beau ful.

Be er than his bare, muscular shoulders. Then again, his bu isn’t naked right now.

“You staring at my ass, Lil?”

I jump in surprise, paint catching my wrist. Shit.

He looks over his shoulder, a smile in his eyes.

“You have a nice ass,” I tell him.

His grin descends to his lips, and then his gaze its to the wide open door. Across from our nursery there’s another one.

Rose and Connor had all of their furniture imported from some bou que in Paris. They changed their mind about Hale Co. products at the last minute, and I think it has to do with Connor and Jonathan’s prolonged

ght.

Rose o ered to ship some items for us, but we want to support Hale Co., so all of our things should be arriving some me this month.

I spot the baby pink walls and the twinkling chandelier dangling from the ceiling. A room t for a princess. Even the walls have ar s c oral designs, hand painted. Our nursery is bare except for the Hale Co. rocking chair and some muted blue paint.

I’ve never had a problem with my simple tastes, but I worry our kid might.

Maybe he should have a room t for a prince.

Lo passes me to the door, shu ng it quietly.

“Maybe we should hire someone to decorate?” I suggest. Rose has given me three business cards from various interior designers. She’s not-so-subtle with her hints.

“Our nursery will look beau ful, Lil.” He comes closer, placing his hands on my shoulders. “I mean, it may not have a chandelier.” His lips li .

I smile too.

“But it’s going to be perfect,” he adds. “And if Rose has a boy, you can bet she’ll be jealous of all this.” He mo ons to the half-painted blue walls. My sister is s ll pretending that fate is working in her favor and that she’ll have a girl.

No one knows though. She won’t check.

“She has to have a backup plan if she has a boy,” I say. “Like some sort of on-call decorators. Rose is always prepared.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think she does.” He pauses. “Can you imagine Rose holding a baby?”

“No,” I say honestly. It’s such a weird image. She even holds dolls at a distance, like they’ll grow life-like and start crying and spi ng up on her. Rose is an -babies, so the thought of her to ng around a beau ful ny one with her features…it’s just strange. “She must be really scared,” I realize. Rose keeps a lot inside, so it’s not like she struts around with her fears on her chest. They crop up in the ac ons she takes, the paths she walks.

“She’ll do ne,” Lo says with more assurance. “She may be an ice queen, but she drops her whole schedule if you need her, Lil, even when you don’t ask her to. That’s love, you know?”

Sel essness. Something that Lo and I are trying to grow into. “You just complimented my sister,” I point out.

His ngers slide up my neck, tangling in my short hair. “I know, it feels so wrong.” He strokes the washed strands, not greasy.

Yesterday, my hair reached my armpits. I wasn’t a fan. So I grabbed a pair of kitchen scissors and whacked it back to its usual length, res ng against my shoulders. Magazines have already gone crazy over my new “botched” haircut. I don’t know what they’re talking about. I think it looks be er.

I stare up at Lo while he towers above me. My eyes it to his lips. Kiss me. The place between my legs pulses for a hardness that he possesses. His hand massages my head in a sensual way. A breathy noise escapes my mouth, and I ache to stand up and press my pelvis against him. But I know my belly will hit his body before my lower half does.

I don’t want to have sex in our kid’s nursery, but I do want to have sex with Loren Hale.

I realize I’m gripping his legs, forcing him right here, beside me. He tugs my hair a li le, and another sound breaches. I slowly stand, my heart speeding up a hill. I watch his eyes trail my body with a heady gaze. His arousal only heats all the needy places inside me.

We had sex about two hours ago, before we began pain ng.

“I’m insa able,” I say the words that I’ve always known.

“You’re perfect,” he breathes, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “And a er we nish this wall, I’ll nish inside you.”

Oh my God. I clench my thighs together. “You know I only have fourteen more weeks le …” My shoulders curve forward in regret for bringing up my due date like the sex-pocalypse. But it does feel like that. With the birth, I can’t do it for six weeks.

“Are you nervous about abstaining?” he asks me seriously.

“A li le,” I admit. I’ve just been so monstrous about sex lately. I can’t imagine not having it for twenty-four hours. Six weeks seems like forever. “But Poppy said I’m not going to want sex, so I’ve been less scared.” She said that passing a baby through my vagina will make me not-so-horny, but I do worry that I’ll be an excep on to this. “I’m sure I’ll be so stressed out about Maximo that I won’t care about sex.” I frown. That seems false though.

The more stress I have, the more sex I crave. I fuck to “placate” my worries, pu ng me in a subdued, content state.

I don’t meet Lo’s eyes. I know they’re lled with overbearing concern. I just focus on his abs and outline the small ridges with my ngers.

His hands drop to my hips, holding ght. I ache to be closer, but I se le with splaying my palms on his bare chest. “If anything,” he tells me. “I’m going to be the horny one. And you’ll have to deny me over and over for six goddamn weeks.”

I smile weakly. “Payback?”

He nods. “Oh yeah. For every no I ever had to tell your pre y li le face.” He pinches my cheeks, and I slap his hand away.

“Your pre y li le face is going to be hearing lots of no’s then.”

“I’m coun ng on it.” He leans in, closing the gap between us. His lips touch mine, kissing me so ly and then deeply, pulling me awake. He cups the back of my head as I taste his minty breath.

I only break apart when my phone buzzes on the oorboards. Lo returns to the wall, dipping his roller in paint, while I check my text, plopping back on the ground.

The expresso machine broke. The force is not with us today. Want

me to buy a new one or have someone come x it? – Maya

I make an execu ve decision. Have someone look at it rst. I press send. I’ve found out that one of our morning-shi employees at Superheroes & Scones is a li le aloof, like me, so it may just be operator error.

I no ce that I’ve missed other texts, some I’ve purposefully kept unopened all week. But I click into them now.

Is there anything I can do to change this? – Ryke

This fucking sucks. – Ryke.

I’ve taken the immature silent treatment route this past week, but I haven’t grown the courage to tell him that I’ve been aroused by his presence and that I feel gross by it.

While the same things happened with Connor, it only occurred twice and it stopped there. Every me I see Ryke, I just feel weird.

Lo told his brother to give me some space, so he hasn’t bombarded me in person, like he usually would. He’s just been tex ng me, being pushy from a distance. Soon, I think. I’ll face him. But not this soon.

Lo’s phone chirps like a bird.

“What’s that?” Lo asks, his rolling stopping against the wall. I ditch my phone for his, one with internet and app capabili es.

“Uhh…” My Twi er noca ons on your phone. “…a bird?” I’m a horrible liar. Well, that’s not true. I did lie to my en re family for three years. I suppose—I am horrible at lying to Lo.

“Lil,” he says in warning.

“It’s not Tumblr!” I greedily check out Twi er and realize that someone has nally discovered my o cial account. Whoa. My third one about Raisy has been retweeted over a thousand mes. “Raisy is alive!” I cheer, bouncing up to my feet.

Lo gives me a weird look and then snatches the phone out of my hand.

I don’t care. I’m twirling. I did it. We succeeded! “No more three-way rumors,” I sing-song. “Everyone loves Raisy.”

“I’m dele ng your account,” Lo says, his voice hollow.

I stop mid-twirl. I realize that I sang out loud and actually spun in a circle. My skin roasts. “What? Lo, it’s working—”

“Did you read the replies?” His cheekbones are sharpening.

“No…I…celebrated too soon?”

He nods tensely and hands me the phone back. “Delete it, Lil.”

I scroll through some of the replies, and my excitement is shot down like a pigeon in the sky. And yes, I deserve to be a pigeon and not a majes c eagle or a sprightly blue jay.

@li lehex99: @lilycallowayX23 you’re for sure banging Ryke and

trying to cover it up. I bet Daisy is s ll with that model guy, Julian.

Isn’t she??

No.

@Sherlock2Baby: @lilycallowayX23 I called this from the start!!

You LOVE Ryke!!! You can’t fool us, Lily!!

I’m not trying to.

@lotus owwers: @lilycallowayX23 you’re such a fucking slut. I

hope you die from banging two guys at once.

I cringe. That’s not nice.

“There has to be some good stu here,” I tell Lo.

“Lil, please, just delete the account. It’s not worth the stress.”

I don’t want to give up yet. “Let me take a picture of you,” I say. “I’ll tweet it and ignore all the other comments.”

He hesitates for a couple seconds. “Only if you don’t respond to the nega ve tweets.”

I nod vigorously and my chest expands with more excitement.

He holds the paint roller, and instead of giving me a signature bi er half-smile, Lo produces a hear elt, really a rac ve smile with dimples a ached. I have to cross my ankles to keep from throbbing so much down below. I snap a quick pic and then upload it without a cap on.

Words can be twisted worse than pictures. Though the photoshopped pictures of me on the yacht between two hot dogs was pre y bad.

Lo returns to pain ng, and I sit back down with his phone, logging into Celebrity Crush, just a quick perusal of all the headlines.

Ryke Meadows’ Epic Fight in Mexico Caught on Tape!

The videos went viral. Lo says that whenever Ryke goes out now, people jeer at him—thinking he’s easily provoked. Everyone wants to see a Fight Part Two. For him to feed their entertainment.

“Is Ryke okay?” I ask Lo. I know how overwhelming the paparazzi and general public can be. But if anyone can take it, it’s de nitely Ryke Meadows.

Lo brie y glances at me. “Why don’t you ask him?” His tone is only a li le edged.

Worry in ltrates my defenses. “I’m not a racted to your—”

“I know you aren’t, Lil. You don’t have to keep reminding me.”

It’s not porn. It’s okay. That’s what I need to tell myself.

I check another headline. Ryke Defends Lily Calloway’s Honor at Her Li le Sister’s Birthday.

I hate that one. Because it’s all the truth. But it seems so wrong on the outside.

VIDEO: Loren Hale & Connor Cobalt Kiss in Mexico!

I perk up. Should I? My nger hovers over the link to the ar cle.

“Lily,” Lo warns.

“Lo,” I say back.

“You have that look.”

I blink. “The unsa s ed look?”

“No, the one that says you’re about to do something bad.”

I shake my head. “Nope. No. Not going to…” I lick my dry lips. But it’s so temp ng. I haven’t even read fan’s comments about the kiss because I’ve been avoiding the video clips for so long. Lo suddenly steals my phone…or rather his phone.

“How’d you get over here so fast?” I ask. My mouth falls and my eyes widen. “Your superpower kicked in.”

His forehead wrinkles as he stares at the phone screen in concentra on. And then his eyes it to mine. “When you imagine me kissing Connor, how long is it?” he asks.

“Thirty seconds,” I say, feeling my cheeks heat, which shows my lie too easily. “Okay, it’s actually more like a minute…and there may be some tongue involved.”

Lo groans. “Lil.”

“I have an overac ve imagina on. It’s not my fault. It’s my dirty brain’s fault.”

He sighs, presses his phone’s screen and then turns it to me. Oh my God. He hit play. I am watching the video. I am watching him…

I squint. “This is blurry.”

“We were in a dark nightclub. They’re all blurry.”

It’s not exactly brief, but it’s not epically long either. Connor and Lo’s lips lock, and then I have to squint to make out the rest. I can barely even see their faces. But I do spot a pair of hands—on Lo’s neck. Connor obviously guided him so it was more than just kissing a wall, but it’s too quick to really obsess over. And it’s all grainy.

My shoulders drop. But it’s okay, I think. Maybe it’s even be er than okay.

“Did I destroy your fantasy?”

I nod. “It’s ruined.”

“Good,” he says, squa ng down in front of me. My nerves light up just staring into those entrancing amber eyes. “How’s this reality?”

I smile wide. “Much, much be er,” I realize.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

LILY CALLOWAY

“HALE CO. IS A MULTI-BILLION DOLLAR EMPIRE,” Daniel Perth repeats for the second me as we ride the glass elevator to the seventy-

h oor. “If you think you’re being brought in here for shits and giggles,

think again.”

He sounds so much like Lo’s dad that I honestly wonder if Jonathan Hale hires people with his personality or if his employees just pick up the lingo a er a while. When Daisy and I arrived in the lobby ve minutes ago, Daniel introduced himself as one of the fourteen board members. He’s in his late-thir es; has a prominent nose, u y brown hair and a very expensive suit. And he is not about the bullshit.

He’s told us that three mes already.

“You’re both about to meet the rest of the board. Handshakes and lunch. Easy.”

Tomorrow they’re mee ng with Ryke and Lo. They wanted to split us up in pairs so they’d have a be er indica on of how we would act on our own. So far, so good.

I nervously wipe my sweaty palms on my khaki pants, my baby bump visible underneath my silk top. Daisy towers beside me in high-waisted navy shorts and a white blouse, sans bra. She had her yellow cast cut o in March, so her wrist is decorated in gold bangles.

She’s all stylish, like she’s ready to walk the runway, and I feel matronly and ready to sink on a couch and take a luxurious nap. But I’m here on a mission: ensure Loren and Ryke are not chosen as the new CEO. They’ve both spent years dodging this life, and there’s no reason they have to fall back into it now.

I can tell Daisy is going to be tough compe on, but I have to do be er

than her too. She just turned nineteen, and she’s already worked most of her life. The corporate world is not calling her. Nope. I won’t let it. Big sister priori es intact, I am ready to impress.

Although…I have never impressed anyone. My M.O. is to stand by the wall and blend into the paint.

This’ll be a challenge.

Daniel xes his e. “We have the nal say-so in which one of you becomes the CEO, and we’re not going to pass the tle over lightly. Whoever we choose will be the face of the company.” His eyes fall to me. “And it’s going to take a lot of convincing if you want to be that person.”

A sex addict as the face of a baby company.

I can see why this may be a li le problema c, but I have to put my best foot forward.

“She’s going to do great,” Daisy says with a bright smile. She slings her arm around my shoulders.

Daniel’s eyes nally migrate to her, and they intensify in a di erent way. My sisterly guards rise about a hundred feet. No. No. No.

“You’re charming,” he says like he’s ling the note in the “posi ves” category. Jonathan said the men thought as much about Daisy.

The ends of her blonde hair are dyed a muted orange, like the sunset, and she styled her locks so they cover the scar on her cheek. “You’re upfront,” she tells him.

“Honey,” he says, “all fourteen of us aren’t going to beat around any bush. Jonathan likes it that way.” His gaze descends down her long, long legs. “If you were ten years older, you’d be perfect.”

“Story of my life,” Daisy mu ers under her breath.

I wish I was taller. Even though I stand between them, they can easily have a conversa on over my head. She’s wearing high heels. He’s past six-feet. And I’m only ve- ve and a li le bit extra. Ryke would not appreciate Daniel’s lingering gaze, and now my friend ins ncts take over.

I cough into my hand, disrup ng his staring.

“Yes?” he asks me.

“I’d like it if you stopped ogling my sister.”

“She and you be er get used to it,” Daniel says. “You’re both going to be ‘ogled’ from here on out.” He even uses air quotes, and his eyes dri to my belly. “And don’t be surprised if some of the women fawn over you. You’re not only our target audience, but you’re carrying Jonathan’s grandson. They’re all excited.”

I inch in shock that these women would be excited to meet me. “That’s a strong adjec ve,” I say so ly.

“It’s a correct one,” he tells me. “Most everyone loves Jonathan, and if we could repair his image, we all would. But it’s too late for that.”

The elevator suddenly pings. We’re here. The seventy- h oor.

When the doors slide open, we see four women, the rest men, holding champagne utes, servers wandering around. They all turn and stare right at us. Their expressions are severe, no-nonsense, poised and con dent. They size us up immediately.

Daniel watches our stunned reac ons and says, “Welcome to Hale Co.”

LUNCH BEGINS, and I almost instantaneously lose my sister in this meet-and-greet. The high tables are lined with small sandwiches and tapas. I pinch the stem of a wine glass, lled with chilled water, and linger by a table in the corner, away from the limelight.

It’s safe here. I chew slowly, using food as an excuse not to talk too much. I just nod a lot. All four women have ocked me, and they ask me about baby things, which Hale Co. product I like the best. Easy stu , but I suspect they’re mentally jo ng notes about my “personable” skills.

“I like the rocking chairs,” I say between bites of cucumber sandwich. The women stare at me like a mouse has spoken. I take a large gulp of water. I secretly want to raise my hand and say, introvert in the building! But that’s not going to help me.

They want someone like Daisy.

The men seriously love her. She already learned the art of schmoozing from her modeling career. Seven middle-aged men surround my li le sister across the spacious conference room, oor-length windows overlooking Philadelphia.

“If we have a press conference, how would you handle personal ques ons?” the oldest woman asks me, redirec ng my a en on. She wears a conserva ve blue dress, has short blonde hair and an in mida ng scowl. Irene, she said her name was.

“I’d answer them to the best of my ability,” I say, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear.

“Don’t do that,” Rachel tells me, a ve-foot brune e woman. “The press will think you’re uncomfortable.”

I am uncomfortable.

“She is uncomfortable,” Irene points out.

Shit. “It’s just pregnancy stu . I’m not one-hundred percent.” I almost want to touch my belly and thank Maximo for the escape.

Irene doesn’t buy it. “So if I asked you how Loren is, what would you tell me?”

“He’s great,” I say, my cheeks hea ng.

“Do you always turn this red?” Rachel asks.

I nod, ea ng slowly. A er a swallow, everyone s ll looks at me for an answer. “It’s uh, a thing.” Oh my God. I need someone to bail me out of this. I search the room, and I stop myself, realizing I’m looking for Lo.

“A thing?” another woman says. I can’t remember her name.

“Did you really graduate from Princeton?” Rachel ques ons.

I nod.

“Her GPA was appalling,” Irene men ons, “which is why no one should be that impressed.”

Jeez. Anger pumps out of my chest. I spent years bus ng by bu for that diploma. Sure, I had a lot of help, but I s ll worked for it. “I earned that degree,” I say. “I passed all of my classes and studied for every exam. I may not have been the smartest person in the room, but I at least tried and succeeded.”

Irene stares at me for a long moment, and I am about to shrink underneath her penetra ng gray stare. And then her lips curve. In a smile. “We can work with that.”

I did kind of sound like Rose a li le bit right there, s cking up for myself. I internally pat myself on the back. Good job, Lily.

Rachel asks me another ques on, but I’m distracted by the men’s laughter. Daisy ges culates with her hands like she’s telling a hilarious story, and they’re all ea ng it up. One even places his palm on her shoulder. It falls to her back.

And then lower, sliding down to the spot above her ass.

No. No.

“Excuse me,” I mu er, on a new mission. Protect my li le sister. I don’t hear anything that Irene, Rachel, or the other two women say. I march over to Daisy, my pulse racing. It doesn’t help that Maximo decides now of all

mes to kick me in the ribs.

Great. Just great.

Daisy slyly tries to step out of the handsy guy’s space, but he shi s with her. She bobs her head at him and the others like she’s enthralled with the conversa on. I no ce that the handsy one has horn-rimmed glasses. A er I binge-watched Heroes, I trust no one who wears those par cular glasses. Paranoid. Yes.

But I’ve been an absent sister for most of my life. I plan on bea ng Rose and Poppy for the best older sister award, so I scoot closer to Daisy’s side and try to wedge my body between her and Horn-Rimmed.

His hand falls o her back. Success.

I inwardly give myself a second pat.

And then every single man stares down at me like I appeared out of thin air, and not only that, I see their minds churning. It’s like their eyeballs are imprinted with she’s a sex addict. I’m a unique specimen, I suppose, but it only heightens the awkward silence.

I have no idea how to alter it, no plan on what to say a er I interrupted their conversa on. I thought I could coyly sneak in, be all invisible, swat Horn-Rimmed’s hand away, and sneak out.

I fucked up.

But Daisy is so good at integra ng introverts that she wraps an arm around my shoulders and says, “I was telling them about the me we tested out Hale Co. bicycles as kids.”

I vaguely remember this, but it’s lost in a pool of other foggy memories.

“I was six,” she quickly paints the picture for me, “and I decided to ride the bike without using the handlebars. I crashed into Jonathan’s Range Rover next door.”

Daniel, with his u y brown hair, speaks up. “So you’ve moved on to crashing motorcycles?”

All the guys laugh lightly, like irty laughter, some even nervous. Like a gorgeous, con dent girl automa cally in midates them. This is bizarre.

Daisy shrugs. “I like going fast.”

Horn-Rimmed zeroes in on me. “What about you, Lily? Are you more cau ous in your approach?”

My approach to life? All the eyes pin to my body, and my neck grows hot. And then Maximo kicks me again, this me in the bladder. So hard that I have no opportunity to stop myself. The water I downed at the other table suddenly leaks.

My world is in slow mo on.

Everyone waits for me to nish my sentence while a wet spot sprouts on my khaki slacks. Oh my God.

I am mor ed. This ranks up there…high, high up there.

They can’t see. They can’t see. I pray that my face hasn’t turned tomato-red yet.

“She’s more analy cal than me,” Daisy says. I catch her gaze and she looks at me like are you okay? No. Nope. Daisy smiles at all of them, trying to remove the a en on from me.

“You’re the impulsive sister?” Horn-Rimmed asks Daisy, eyeing her long, long legs like Daniel did.

“Very,” Daisy says, “and I’m so impulsive that I have to whisk Lily away from all of you. Sorry. We just need a quick break.” She hooks her arm with mine, and we head towards the ladies’ room. I’m prac cally sprin ng.

“What’s wrong?” she whispers.

I shake my head. I can’t say just yet. My body is petri ed, and goose bumps run down my arms the longer I play the moment in my head, on rerun. My face ames by the minute.

When we disappear inside the bathroom, Daisy shu ng the door, I inhale a deep breath. “I peed,” I let it out like that.

Daisy stares at my pants and wears a pained smile. “Uh-oh.”

I haven’t even grown the bravery to look, but I do now. The spot is very wet in the front. I check myself in the mirror. And the back.

They all saw me pee myself. “I just screwed my chances.”

“They all know you’re pregnant.” Daisy breezes down the bathroom, peeking in all the stalls to make sure they’re empty before she returns to me. “If I peed my pants, it would’ve been weird.”

Yeah. Okay. I can blame this on my baby. It’s his fault. Oh God, that sounds awful too.

Daisy takes out her phone and puts it on speaker. She’s the problem-solver in this instance. No ma er that I’m older. Our roles usually reverse given the circumstance. I’ve bailed her out of situa ons and she’s bailed me out of plenty more.

I’ve always felt guilty that she’s had to act like the older sister towards me. But, I think, maybe I’ve been wrong all this me.

One of us doesn’t have to be more responsible than the other just because of age. We’re both vulnerable. We’re both strong. We’re both problem-solvers.

I think, maybe, that’s what being sisters is all about. Picking each other up when the other trips. Pu ng on our sisterly superhero capes when the other needs us. We’re both human in the end.

“Hey,” Daisy says into the receiver. “Are you around the Hale Co. o ces by chance?”

I expect Rose’s icy voice to cut in, not this one: “I’m about to ride over to Ralph Stover, but I can pass through if you need me.” Ryke Meadows. She called the one person that I am on a hiatus with.

My eyes widen in horror at Daisy, and I wave my hands to shut this down, and I mouth, No! Daisy gives me a look like this is the only op on. But Lo…is working. Connor is working. Rose is working.

Everyone is working on Tuesday. Except Ryke.

“Dais? Is everything okay?” he asks. “I can pick you up if you want to leave early.”

“No,” she says quickly. “It’s not that. Can you just grab some of Lily’s clothes—”

“No, no, no,” I cut in, my voice high-pitched. “It’s ne. He has to go meet Ralph Stover. I wouldn’t want to take him away from his friend…” I trail o at Daisy’s smile.

Ryke answers me on the line. “Ralph Stover is a fucking state park.” Rock climbing, I realize. He was going rock climbing. “What do you need, Lily?” I hear a door creak open from his end, and I wonder if he’s already in my bedroom.

I think I’m a new shade of red called Fire Engine Embarrassment. I open my mouth to mumble out the ar cles of clothing, but I just eat air.

“A new pair of pants,” Daisy tells him easily. “And pan es.”

I’d like to disintegrate now.

“What the fuck happened?” Concern in ltrates his rough voice.

“Ipeedmyself,” I say so quickly.

“You pissed your pants?” Ryke asks with ques oning, the sound of a drawer sliding open.

I make a noise of distress and rest my forehead on the sink counter, all hunched over. Daisy rubs my back.

“Hey.” Ryke tries to so en his voice. “It’s okay. I’ll be there in a second, Lily.”

Daisy holds the phone near her mouth. “Can you speed?”

“Sure,” he says without hesita on. “I always break this fucking law for you, sweetheart.” It is so cute that I almost swoon instead of roast, but this humilia on is just too strong today.

My invisibility powers have let me down, once again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

LILY CALLOWAY

IN THE SPAN of ve minutes, Irene has checked on us once, and we told her that someone is stopping by to bring me a change of clothes. She actually turned her scowl into a pity smile for me. That’s how bad this is.

“He’s coming up the elevator,” Daisy says, checking her texts.

I crack the bathroom door and peek at the fourteen board members, who all take the extra me to chat with each other.

“No one has bailed on us yet,” Daisy whispers to me. She peeks through the top por on of the crack while I crouch below her. She’s right. They’re s ll ea ng and drinking and smiling, which is good.

The elevator dings, and all of the board members quiet, rota ng to face the sliding metal doors. Ryke emerges, wearing a leather bike jacket, zipped to the collar, and a black backpack with buckles across the chest. A green water bo le dangles o the lower strap with a carabineer.

No one approaches him. They’re the ones stunned in silence now, not expec ng him to be here today.

He’s essen ally crashing this lunch party, and he acts like he couldn’t give a ying shit. He looks around the place and spots the bathroom where we hide. Then he begins his trek this way, without introducing himself or even shaking a single hand.

Though he decides to snatch a couple mini-sandwiches on the way here, ea ng them in one bite.

“Is he self-sabotaging?” I whisper to Daisy. The board members murmur, gossiping about him, and Ryke ignores all of it.

“I don’t think so.” Daisy backs away from the door as he nears, and I do the same.

Ryke slips inside and shuts the door behind him.

I cover my face with my hands, refusing to meet his brooding gaze for mul ple reasons. The rst being: I just peed myself. And he can see the stains.

“So they said you’re having lunch and they bring in bite-sized fucking sandwiches?” he curses. I hear him unzip his backpack on the sink counter, grateful he’s not adver sing my soiled pants yet.

“You’ll have to eat before you come here tomorrow,” Daisy tells him. I peer through my ngers and watch her hop up on the sink.

“It’s a mul -billion dollar company; they could’ve ordered subs.”

Daisy wears a devious smile. “Ladies don’t put foot-longs in their mouths.”

Oh my God. I am alone with Ryke and Daisy. Flirty Raisy. I need help. SOS. Someone save me. I drop my hands and reach for my phone in my pocket.

His eyebrows rise at her, his backpack right there. Accio, my clothes! They do not magically land in my hands. Harry Po er fail. I’m truly not a wizard.

“Calloway,” Ryke says, “you’ve never been a lady, and it has nothing to do with taking twelve-inches in your mouth.”

Oh shit.

“Say that again,” she smiles so big.

“No!” I interject with fran c eyes. They both look at me, and I use one hand to shield my gaze. “I don’t want to know how many inches his…thing is.” He cannot be twelve-inches. That’s just too big.

“I’m not twelve fucking inches,” he tells me. Thank God. “Lily, you can look at me?”

“I can’t,” I say. I am trying to keep my “perverted thoughts” under the surface. I cannot be aroused. Nope. I will not let my body feel embarrassment, guilt, shame and pleasure all at once. It’s the most toxic, gross mixture.

I sense Ryke nearing, and I scu le backwards, my shoulders hi ng a stall door.

“Lily. It’s just me.” There’s pain in his voice.

I swallow a lump and slowly drop my hand. He is holding my pants out to me, really nicely. Daisy watches from the sink and she gives me a thumbs-up. Something tells me that she’d planned for us to make up right now—and maybe that’s why she called him out of everyone.

How can I say this out loud without seeming strange and weird?

“Maybe if you talk about it, we can clear the fucking air,” Ryke says with hard brows. He’s not even sure what he did. I’ve just been dodging him. “Here, take this.” He pushes the pants to me, and I hold onto my clean clothes like a life vest.

And then I say, “I’m a pervert.”

His face falls. “You’re not a fucking pervert.”

“You always say—”

“I’m an asshole,” he suddenly tells me, licking his lips. “I say exactly what’s on my mind, and some mes it doesn’t come across how I intend it to. Do you think perverted things? Yes. But so do I. It doesn’t make either of us perverts.” He takes a tense breath. “I don’t want you to believe that you’re one because of things I’ve said. It’d…honestly, it would break my heart.”

Maybe his comments have a ected me over the years. “I shouldn’t have taken them so personally…”

He shakes his head a couple mes. “No. I shouldn’t have fucking said them in the rst place.” He lets out a deeper sigh, frustrated with himself.

I don’t want him to feel bad. It’s not even the source of why I’ve been dodging him. “You don’t understand,” I whisper. How can I say this? My face scrunches in a wince. And I stare at his feet, the shameful heat swirling around me. “I really am gross. I mean…I’ve been aroused so much lately that almost anything turns me on, even things that never did before.”

The silence deadens the bathroom.

“Like what things?” Ryke asks, and I can almost hear the gears clicking in his brain.

I can’t look at them.

“Us?” Ryke asks. “Or just me?” Both.

“I’m sorry,” I say. My ins ncts scream retreat, retreat, retreat! So I dart into the stall and shut it closed, my heart thumping against my ribcage.

“Lily—”

“You don’t need to say anything.” I take this me to change into my clean clothes, unfolding the black pants and nding a pair of purple co on pan es.

I don’t think too much about the fact that Ryke picked them out from my drawer.

“So this hasn’t been about the three-way rumors then?” Ryke calls out.

“No.” I’ve already accepted those rumors for what they are. The old me that would obsess and be a ected by them has been buried away. I’ve been avoiding him because of something worse.

He keeps talking to me. “Look, I know you feel badly about this, but you shouldn’t.”

I frown, not expec ng this reac on. A er changing, I zip up my pants and step out of the stall, bundling my dirty clothes together. I need to see his face.

The minute I do, I only see compassion.

Daisy even looks empathe c. “We could’ve toned it down. I didn’t know…”

I shake my head ercely. “No, that was the last thing I wanted you to do. You’re a new couple. You deserve to bask in it, and I didn’t want to take that from you. Especially since Lo and I aren’t discreet.” It would’ve been hypocri cal to tell them to stop when Lo and I are almost always touching. I stare between them. “Why aren’t you disgusted by me?” I feel it. It’s like every pore needs to be scrubbed clean.

“Because it’s not disgus ng,” Ryke says forcefully. “It’s fucking normal. People can get o by anything, even inanimate objects.”

“But I know you…” I just don’t understand how they can look at me and not see a freak? And why is that all I see when I stare in the mirror?

“I have a confession to make,” Daisy pipes in, raising her hand as she sits on the sink. “When I was younger, I totally had a crush on Lo.”

I end up smiling, and Ryke is staring at her like what the fuck?

“Really?” I say.

She nods. “I thought he was really hot.”

“How young?” Ryke asks.

“Twelve, thirteen, somewhere around there. He was my rst crush.”

A cool breeze washes over my hot anxiety as I begin to realize that I may not be so di erent from everyone else. It doesn’t ex nguish all the bad parts, but it makes me feel a bit be er in a way.

Ryke stares at her with this hard, dark gaze. “My li le brother was your

rst fucking crush.”

“If only you knew me back then,” she says, swinging her legs.

He shakes his head. “I’m glad I didn’t know you back then. I would’ve been twenty.” And then he glances at me. “We’re okay now?”

I let out a deep breath. “I think so.” I doubt I’ll feel good about being aroused by their make-out sessions, but at least I know that it’s not the biggest regression on my part. I just have to believe that it’s okay. What Lo always says. And try to squash my arousal. I’m just happy that my hormones may go back to their usual level a er I give birth.

At least, I hope they do.

“Good. I fucking missed you.” He did? “Maybe you should pee your pants more o en.” He almost smiles. There is the Ryke Meadows I know… and yes, I love him too.

I squint, trying to narrow my eyes. “Not funny.” And then I trash my dirty clothes and head to the door, possessing way more con dence than I had. I’m not sure where it came from. Probably both my sister and Lo’s brother. It’s strange how other people can boost you to a higher, be er place than you were before.

Ryke clips his backpack to his chest again. “Alright, I’m fucking out of here.”

I don’t want to men on how he’s made a very surly rst impression with the board. It’s best that he stays oblivious to it so I can beat him.

Daisy hops o the sink counter and says, “Can I ask for another favor before you leave? Don’t freak out though.”

His stares down at her, ques oningly. “What is it?” I have no idea where she’s going with this.

Though she seems nervous, ddling with her ngers. “Can you…kiss me in front of everyone on your way out?” Oh, good plan! The men will realize that she’s clearly with Ryke and they may stop being so handsy.

“Why?” Ryke asks tensely. He’s smart enough to guess, so the muscles in his shoulders already bind.

“I want everyone to know that we’re together,” she says with a forced smile.

Ryke sees through it. “Which one of those fucking guys is all over you?” All of them.

“None,” she says. “A couple are just touchy-feely.”

“Oh yeah?” Ryke is boiling. “Where’d they fucking touch you?”

“You said you wouldn’t freak out,” she says.

“I never made that fucking promise,” he retorts. “There are so many reasons why I don’t want you here, and this is becoming the worst one. Not to men on you’re star ng to hide your scar—”

“Just never mind,” she cuts him o . “I’m sorry I asked for your help.”

Is this the beginning of a Raisy ght? I will not let this happen. I interject, physically standing between them by the shut door. “I saw the men,” I tell Ryke, pulling his a en on on me. “And they really weren’t that bad, but I do think it’d be a good idea if they were reminded that you two love each other.”

Ryke’s jaw muscles c. “Maybe I should just stay for the rest of the lunch.”

“No,” Daisy says. “You have to trust me.”

A er a couple seconds, he nods. “Okay.”

I exhale. Thank God.

He sets a hand on her head. “This is fucking killing me.” He hates seeing her in this world. A er this a ernoon, I do too. There is something about Daisy that feels too contained and unnatural in a corporate se ng. It’s not the real her, not completely. She can’t stand on tables and make speeches. She can’t do cartwheels along the carpet.

She can’t scream at the top of her lungs.

Or run naked down the hall, no one restraining her as she bolts away as fast as she can.

“It’s be er this way,” she breathes.

“In what world, Calloway?” he asks. “Because in mine, you’re free.”

I step forward rst and clasp the knob, wai ng for them. Then Daisy nods to me like, I’m ready. And when I open the door, we all enter the conference room.

“They’re back,” Daniel exclaims, raising his glass to me. Everyone isn’t staring at me with shame or pity. They all just smile, talk and wave me over to one of the high-tables. Ac ng mature about the whole ordeal. They are adults. I’m the one trying to t in.

While I head over to Rachel and Irene, I watch Ryke and Daisy stop in the middle of the room. Their body language says that he’s telling her goodbye before he leaves. And his hand is lost in her hair, a er brie y eye-fucking, he kisses her with tongue.

I look away before my body responds, and I plant my gaze on the gaggle of men by a high-table. Some shrink back, though the majority of the ten men stand tall. The moment that Ryke breaks from Daisy and begins walking to the elevator, he shoots the men one of the most territorial glowers. Now more than a couple guys step backwards.

Message received.

“I’ll give him this,” Irene says, sidling next to me as Ryke disappears into the elevator, “he knows how to make an entrance and an exit.” She sips her champagne. “Just like his father.”

I have no idea who is going to win this, I realize.

If they warm to Ryke’s personality as it is, then we’re all screwed. The future CEO of Hale Co. could be any one of us. If I learned anything today, it’s that Ryke and Daisy’s rela onship will not survive if one of them takes this posi on.

It has to be me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

LOREN HALE

“HOW’D IT GO?” Lily asks me.

She chose a er we had sex and took (separate) showers to bring up my mee ng with the Hale Co. board members a few hours ago.

“They’re already engraving my name on the door,” I say, ashing a dry smile while I towel-dry my hair.

Her lips downturn, not exactly excited about that possibility. “You don’t really want it, do you?” She steps into co on shorts and pulls on a baggy t-shirt to sleep in.

“It’s my des ny,” I say drama cally, touching my chest.

“I’m serious, Lo,” she whispers, her eyes on the ground for a second.

It’s easier to joke about it. I e my drawstring pants and remember how all the board members treated me this a ernoon. I went in with the same irritated expression I always wear, and they weren’t put o by me. They listened to everything I had to say. Never dismissed my comments. Always seemed interested. It was strange. And by the end, I realized that my father must’ve told them to treat me well. Something I never thought he’d do.

It’s made me uneasy all night. I didn’t earn this respect. It was just handed to me. My dad has always taught me to work hard for what I have, and for him to just pass this over to me—it goes against too many years of screaming matches and lectures.

I tug her to my bare chest. “I’m grateful for this opportunity.” It’s as rehearsed as it sounds, but somewhere beneath fear of this life I was meant to live, I am grateful.

I have the girl and the kid, the money and the house. Friends and a family.

None of that has to change by taking over Hale Co.—not unless I turn into my father. Being around him always magne zes our similari es. I have no idea if corporate life will push me towards booze, something Connor and Ryke fear. Hell, something everyone has most likely wri en in stone.

I just worry that in twenty-four years, my son will be si ng where I am, thinking about all the mistakes that I made. How I fucked up his life, the same way that I look at my father.

I only hope that I’m not walking down a path that leads there.

“You did that well?” Lily says, her brows cinching in this adorable way.

“Honestly…” I wrap my arms around her waist. “I have no fucking idea.” At rst, I thought Ryke bombed the mee ng since he told two guys to “fuck o ” when they brought up Daisy. But the women warmed to him, a sign that they liked his protec veness and took it as a posi ve a ribute.

Even though we’re “working together” right now, I wish Ryke did worse. Then I’d have an indica on who’s the frontrunner.

“At least you didn’t pee your pants,” Lily whispers, her cheeks reddening.

My hands rise to her warm face, her embarrassment and anxiety seeping into me. Christ. “No one even men oned it today, love.” I wish I could just remove every uncomfortable emo on from her body.

“Really?” Her lips rise. So do her shoulders.

That was easy. I smile. “Really—”

Our bedroom door ies open. No knock. “Emergency mee ng,” Rose declares, wearing a black robe, her hair in a pony. She acts like we invited her for a nightcap, aimed for the velvet purple couch against the wall. “Why is it so dark in here?” She takes a seat and cringes at the dim chandelier above our bed, as though it’s not doing its job.

I ignore her last statement and check the clock. Midnight. “You’re calling a mee ng during the witching hour. Trying to harness your black magic, Rose?”

She narrows her yellow-green eyes at me. “I didn’t call this emergency mee ng.” I frown, watching her shi uncomfortably on the couch, smashing a pillow behind her back. Having a pregnant belly hasn’t made her look any less evil.

“So then who called it?”

Lily steps out of my grasp, wearing a guilty smile.

“Lil…” I draw out. What’s going on?

“While you were at Hale Co., I was doing some research.” She shu es over to our end table. “I have notes…”

I’m s ll confused.

“Connor is bringing the accused,” Rose says aloud.

And then Connor knocks on the wooden frame, standing in the doorway with his orange, slender tabby cat curled in his arms. “Has the mee ng started?” he asks. Great. Everyone knows what the hell is going on but me.

I focus on Sadie, his cat. “This is about the cat?” I ques on, si ng on the edge of the bed.

“Yes,” Lily says with a nod, scoo ng next to me with a handful of notes scribbled on various pink post-its.

Connor glances at the chandelier. “Why is it so dark in here?” And then he icks the light switch, brightening the room so much that I squint. Jesus Christ.

“Be er,” Rose tells him.

Lily watches Sadie, intensely, and she scu les back onto the bed, picking her legs o the oor. I get her paranoia since Sadie has hissed at her mul ple mes.

Connor sits next to his wife, and then she stretches out, res ng her legs on the couch like it’s a chaise, and he places a hand on her calves. She looks ten-thousand mes more comfortable. And I’m ten-thousand mes more aware that this isn’t going to be a short discussion.

Rose has her phone in hand, scrolling through her own notes. “Before we discuss Sadie, we need to talk about the cliques in this house.”

What the hell is she talking about? I lt my head at Connor for answers.

He scratches behind Sadie’s ears, and I can’t shake how submissive a normally hos le cat is in his care. “We called both of you to see how Hale Co. went, and no one answered.”

Lily raises her hand like she’s in class. “I rarely answer my phone.”

“Yeah,” I say with a deeper frown. “We barely talk on the phone with each other.” I mo on between my body and Lily who is now si ng behind me. She holds onto my waist and peeks from behind my bicep, seriously avoiding this damn cat.

“It just feels like we’ve been le out of important discussions,” Rose says without blowing a fuse. I bet they both prepared and talked out this en re conversa on before bringing up the subject. “Like the other day, Ryke men oned how Lily’s been having a hard me with her addic on. Where was I for this talk?”

I open my mouth to respond, but she already has an answer.

“I’ll tell you where.” She leans forward. “Downstairs.”

Jesus. This is not the rst me she’s complained about room

arrangements. She’s the one who chose the master on the main oor. The biggest room with the biggest bathroom with the biggest goddamn closet. Ryke didn’t care. Daisy didn’t care. Lily didn’t care. I cared on principle, but I let it slide a er I saw the amount of pressed shirts Connor owns.

Now she’s worried about being “isolated” from the rest of us who room on the second oor. I ask, “You really think it’s an issue of proximity?” Maybe she’s bitching because Lily and Daisy are ge ng closer, and it scares her—being on the outs. Turning into Poppy Calloway who’d rather be with her husband and child than spend me with her sisters.

Rose doesn’t want that. She’s made it vitally clear.

She raises her hand to silence me. “If it’s not proximity, then it means you both favor Ryke and Daisy over us, and I’m giving you both the bene t of the doubt.”

I look to Connor like come on. He can’t agree with her.

“I don’t believe you’re playing favorites, but it’s frustra ng, even for me, to receive informa on later than I like.”

I scan the room with my arms outstretched. “I don’t see Ryke and Daisy anywhere for this conversa on.”

Rose sits straighter. “That’s because we’re on the second oor.”

Lily pipes in, “Do you want to switch rooms with us?”

“No,” Rose says.

Connor adds, “That solves nothing.”

I recognize now that we’re what bridges Ryke, Daisy, Connor, and Rose together. I feel Lily kneel behind me, her lips close to my ears. She whispers really quickly, “We’re the popular ones.” The surprise in her voice almost makes me smile uncontrollably.

I can’t ever remember being this in-demand.

“This is not amusing,” Rose says, crossing her arms in a hu . But she can’t really do the ac on with her baby bump, and she growls in frustra on.

Connor rubs her ankles, and she calms down some.

I kind of feel badly. I mean, we’re not inten onally trying to shut anyone out of our lives. When we were at the height of our addic ons, we did it purposefully, all the me. Now we’re actually trying to be inclusive. “You two usually just insert yourselves,” I tell them.

Rose folds her hands on her stomach. “It’s harder when you can go run to other people with your issues.”

“And just to remind you,” Connor says in his uid tone, “Rose and I are cer ed geniuses. We can solve problems faster than the average human

brain. If you’re smart, you would take advantage of that.”

“I don’t take advantage of people un l the third date,” I banter.

His lips li in a grin. “We’ve already kissed. I think we’re past that point.” The kiss in Mexico—it’s been blowing up on social media, and it’s causing more specula on for Connor and me than I thought it would.

“Are you okay…?” I trail o because I suddenly realize I’m asking Connor Cobalt if he’s doing alright. The self-con dent expression he has is priceless.

“Of course I am,” he tells me.

I am glad, but I wonder if there will be a day where he’ll show me more of his cards. I wonder if I’ll always just be the “liability” in his game of chess.

“We’re going to move into one of the guest rooms,” Rose suddenly blurts out, returning the conversa on to its focal point.

Lily’s jaw drops comically.

Rose has been body-snatched.

I ask, “You’re going to give up your giant ass walk-in closet?”

“I’ll s ll keep some of my clothes in that closet, but all of my essen als will be going in our permanent room on the second oor.”

Connor nods in agreement.

Wow. Rose loves Lily enough to sacri ce wardrobe space and a bathroom twice the size of the one she’ll now be using. It’s a huge statement, and Lily is stunned to silence behind me. And then she crawls o the bed and risks an a ack from Sadie to hug her sister.

“What are you doing?” Rose says with wide eyes like Lily is about to burn her collec on of heels.

“This is how I show my love,” Lily says with a squeeze.

Rose replies back with a s pat, and they both whisper something to

each other that sounds like I love you.

Then Sadie hisses at the girls.

Lily shrieks and darts back onto the bed, the ma ress bouncing beneath me.

“Easy, love,” I tell her, cau ously watching as she crawls behind me. At

rst my concern peaks since she’s really fucking pregnant, but then she

climbs onto my back in fright. And I shouldn’t be smiling at her fear…but Lily is pre y precious when she uses me as a safety net.

“Sadie hates hugs,” Rose says. “A woman a er my own heart.” She pats her lap, and Sadie curls on top of Rose’s baby bump and purrs.

“Look at that, bitches congregate together,” I say, regre ng it the moment it escapes.

Connor arches his eyebrow at me, a small defensive warning, one that Rose misses because she gives me a death-glare of ginormous propor ons. I deserve that one.

“Lily,” Rose says. “I’m giving the oor to you since Loren abuses it.”

“Burn,” I say dryly.

Lily clears her throat and peeks behind my arm, reading o her notes. “A er sur ng the internet, it has come to my a en on that cats and newborns do not get along.” That fact isn’t that surprising.

Rose s ens more, and she protec vely holds onto Sadie. Connor

studies his wife with more intensity than before—it’s all really not making a lot of sense to me. I get that Rose has grown a ec onate towards Sadie— well, as a ec onate as Rose can be with anything.

But she had to have known about this cat and baby stu . She probably did a ton of research about it.

Lily con nues when no one interjects, “There’ve been instances where cats smother babies in their cribs. And they even suck the baby’s breath.”

“What?” I snap, turning to peer at the notes Lily took.

“I saw video clips,” Lily whispers. “They like to smell the baby’s milk and suck it out of their mouths.” I’m not okay with this. I feel my face start to sharpen.

“I speak on behalf of the accused,” Rose chimes in. “And these allega ons are all urban legends.”

I gape at her. “You’re seriously going to allow that cat around your baby? Lily has…” I count her post-its. “Seven notes—”

“Eight!” Lily says, waving around another pink post-it. “I was si ng on one.” Her skin splotches with red patches.

I hug her to my side. “Eight notes. That’s evidence enough.” I wait for Connor to jump in and speak up for Rose and his pet, but he stays quiet, like the judge.

I have a suspicion he’s going to make the nal verdict anyway.

“We’ll keep Sadie out of the nursery,” Rose says. “And I’ll acclimate her to the newborns before they arrive.”

“How?” I ques on.

She types something on her cellphone and then holds it out to the tabby cat. The sounds of a crying infant blare through the speakers. Sadie arches her spine and swats the damn phone out of Rose’s hand, hissing at it.

Lily clings ghter to me, and my mouth falls, imagining that as my son and not a phone. “No way,” I force.

Rose tries to calm Sadie with a pat on the head. “I know. Those are horri c noises.”

Connor suddenly rises and snatches Sadie by the torso. “She can’t stay in this house with li le children, Rose. She’s a jealous cat, and if she senses a change in our a ec ons, she’ll take it out on them.”

“I’m not abandoning Sadie because she’s territorial.” Rose stands to her feet and de antly plants her hands on her hips.

“I’m not asking you to abandon anyone,” Connor says. “We’ll give Sadie to Frederick for a few years, and then she can come back and stay with us.”

This sounds like a good plan to me. “Would your therapist take her?”

Connor nods. “He’s single and could use the companionship.”

Rose doesn’t break Connor’s gaze. “This is why I don’t like children, Richard. We’re already sacri cing things that we love and the baby isn’t even born yet. In een years, I don’t want to look back and see how much I lost…” It’s a li le late for that. She must be thinking this because she stops herself short and inhales a strained, panicked breath.

My fears don’t align with Rose’s. Maybe because I’ve never been ambi ous, had larger than life aspira ons. I can’t see things that my kid may take from me because there is nothing for Maximo to take.

Connor lets Sadie down, and she sprints out the doorway. I watch him clasp Rose’s hand in his. “You will not lose anything that you can’t gain,” he says. “You make sacri ces every day for your sisters. You just made one today, darling.” He’s talking about giving up the bedroom. “And in the end, those sacri ces are worth the love you’ll receive.”

“Says the man who used to scorn love,” she retorts.

His mouth curves in a grin. “And I never wanted a child because of love, not un l I fell in love with you.”

What? I cut in, “Why the hell would you want a kid then?”

Rose sighs like she’s expelling her fears. “Because he’s completely ego s cal and likes the idea of procrea ng for power.”

Connor’s grin overtakes his face. He kisses her forehead and adds, “We’re already one-eighth Cobalt empire, darling. Seven more to go.”

She punctures him with her stare. “That is yet to be determined. Don’t

nish the book before it’s wri en, Richard.”

Loud noises suddenly emanate from across the hallway. I frown. “What was that?” We all go quiet, listening harder.

Mu ed screaming…and shou ng.

Lily springs o the ma ress. “They’re gh ng,” she says in alarm, rushing out into the hallway. Rose is quick behind, more curious than scared like my girlfriend.

Lily is way too invested in Ryke and Daisy’s rela onship, and I’m partly praying they stay together just to dodge the emo onal fallout that’ll happen from Lily.

Connor and I follow the girls by walking instead of hysterically sprin ng and bouncing down the hallway. By the me we reach Ryke and Daisy’s room, Rose and Lily already have their ears pressed against the wooden door.

“They’re nosy as hell,” I mu er, and both the girls shush me. It’s not like we can’t hear them just by standing here.

“Stop being so pushy about it!” Daisy yells.

Her raised voice actually cuts me up in ways that I can’t process. I’ve never heard her shout like that. I grit my teeth, a weird part of me wan ng to thro le my own brother. The larger part trusts him fully, and I rely on that to keep me grounded here.

Connor casually leans his shoulder against the wall. “We knew this was going to happen,” he reminds me.

S ll, it feels worse than I imagined.

“It’s a simple fucking fact, Dais,” Ryke retorts. “You don’t want to go, so you don’t fucking go. Done.”

“Great theory,” she says heatedly. “So if I don’t want to go get my bike checked tomorrow, it’s ne. I don’t have to fucking go.”

“Your bike is fucked up. It has to get xed.”

“Theory disproven then.”

Ryke growls in agita on.

Lily’s eyes are as wide as saucers, and I see her reach out for the doorknob like she’s going to intervene. I swi ly jog over to her and clasp her wrist.

“Lo,” she whispers like we have to do something.

“All couples ght,” I remind her.

She can’t respond because Ryke’s voice grows louder. “That’s not what this is about! And you fucking know it!” I’ve been on the receiving end of Ryke’s aggressive “tough-love” behavior, and it’s not always fun. Daisy’s hard to communicate with though, so I have no clue who’s in the right or the wrong here.

“That sounds bad,” Lily breathes, and with my hand on her wrist, I feel her pulse racing. Her sex addic on has harmed Daisy’s life in signi cant, irreversible ways, and Lily is holding onto this one good thing that Daisy has.

While I love my brother, Daisy can exist without him and s ll func on and nd happiness. They’re not us—too codependent—and I thank God, Fate, whatever powers that be, for that.

“Shhh,” Rose says, listening again.

We all quiet to the sound of a violent banging, from a body into a piece of furniture. I freeze and hear the proceeding sounds: a high-pitched cry from Daisy. “Ahhhhh! Ryke, Ryke!”

Shit. I internally cringe at her sex noises.

And then a deep grunt lters through the door. Both Lily and Rose back up from the wood like it electrocuted them.

I give Lily a look like does that really sound bad? To me, yeah, it’s not what I’d want to fall asleep to, but it’s be er than yelling.

Lily is beaming, and she pumps two sts in the air and does a short victory circle in the middle of the hall. When she realizes that she’s doing this for real and not in her head, she ushes bright. “Oh…”

I tug on her baggy tee and pull her into my chest, holding her ghtly. Her green eyes are big and round and gaze up at me with longing and light.

There’s something about Lily that makes all the terrible parts of me seem irrelevant. That makes a bad day momentary and a good one in nite.

It’s love like this that’s worth living for.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

LILY CALLOWAY

“LILY! WE’RE ABOUT TO START!” Rose’s voice sounds down the rst

oor hallway.

“Two minutes!” I shout back, focusing on the piles of clean clothes. The laundry room might be as big as Rose’s old walk-in-closet, but I s ll have to separate my sisters’ shirts and pan es. Rose, Daisy, and I usually throw in our clothes together and let the guys fend for themselves.

I’ve never done my laundry with Lo, even when we were fake da ng and sharing an apartment. It’s not that it was too in mate. It’s that we were both too lazy to harass the other person for their hamper and any other dirty clothes lying around.

I am one-hundred percent certain that Connor does his own laundry and he’ll even wash Lo’s on occasion. I assume that Ryke does his own too, but I’ve never seen him even pass this room, let alone venture inside.

I sit on the cold linoleum oor and fold pan es, something I didn’t know had to be done. When I returned Rose’s undies to her all crumpled next to her neatly folded blouses, she gave me a serious s nk-eye. How was I supposed to know you fold underwear? Don’t they naturally unwrinkle when you put them on?

Rose was not buying my argument. So here I am, taking my me to separate our pajamas and pan es and (unenthusias cally) folding them.

I set aside Daisy’s “day of the week” co on underwear and focus on the large pile. I apply the reach-in-and-grab method, never knowing what’ll come next.

When I pull out dark co on fabric, I expect a pair of Daisy’s PJ shorts to reveal themselves. Instead, I hold a pair of boxer-briefs.

Male underwear.

Dark green.

I know Lo’s underwear, and that is not a Loren Hale color.

I drop them on ins nct. They’re either Connor or Ryke’s, but only one of them is rude enough to sneak his clothes into the girl piles.

Ryke.

I just touched Ryke’s underwear! The same fabric that has also touched his penis. Does that mean by process of deduc on that I just…

Grossgrossgross. I back away from the mound of clothes like it has turned into a ny bomb ready to explode at my feet. Do not imagine the underwear on him. I’d rather be skeeved out than aroused, even if Ryke tells me it’s okay to feel the la er. I may be able to look him in the eyes now, but it s ll feels a li le wrong being turned on by anyone but Lo.

“Lily!” Rose calls my name again.

“Okay! Okay! I’m done!” Not really, but I’m glad for the excuse to leave his underwear behind. Where it should be. Far far away from me.

When I enter the spacious living room, I realize that I’ve been tricked. Not everyone is here yet. And the person I looked forward to seeing the most (Loren Hale) is blatantly absent. Connor stands by the window in black slacks and a white bu on-down, tex ng quietly, while Ryke lounges on the nearby couch, his hands all chalky from a morning climb.

“Where’s Lo?” I ask Rose, who’s si ng on the Queen Anne chair, as though wai ng for her royal subjects to arrive. She’s in a gorgeous black Calloway Couture dress, one of her pre er maternity designs, so she does appear regal.

“I don’t keep tabs on Loren,” Rose says.

“He’s in the bathroom,” Ryke tells me, his bare feet on a pillow. Rose looks like she wants to save the plush yellow pillow from his calloused soles.

“And Daisy?” I frown, not seeing my li le sister anywhere either.

“Blow drying her hair,” he replies. My brows scrunch. When does Daisy ever blow dry her hair? She’s a let-it-air-dry kinda person.

I’m about to ask, but the six plas c babies on the heavy cedar co ee table distract me. When Rose announced that we’d all have to take baby CPR class, I almost had a mini-panic a ack. I could just see the headline: Lily Calloway fails baby CPR. Another reason she shouldn’t be a mom.

Of course, Rose came up with an alterna ve: a “private” course, taught by her and Connor since they’ve both earned their cer cates last week.

I’m less nervous of tripping up in front of them.

“How is twenty-three so far?” Ryke asks me, making conversa on as we wait for the others. I lean my bu on the loveseat armrest, adjacent to his couch. I try really hard not to think about his underwear or the junk that goes in them.

“Huh?” My eyes icker to his package like a nervous c.

If he no ced, he brushes it o . “Twenty-three. How’s it been?”

I’ll be twenty-four in three months, a er I have Maximo , so it’s not such a random ques on.

All the websites online say that twenty-three is the worst year in your twen es. Twelve months of iden ty crisis and “what the fuck am I doing with my life” realiza ons.

In the past year I’ve hit some major road bumps, including forge ng my birth control. But I love this year the most. I have conquered immeasurable fears. Public places don’t scare me as much. The ar cles and headlines don’t make me want to touch myself. The world feels smaller and more manageable. And the best part, I can be me and not feel so ashamed by it. My crazy (controlled) sex life and all.

How has twenty-three been? “Be er,” I tell Ryke. “How was it for you?”

He rubs at the chalk on his palm. “It fucking sucked.” He doesn’t elaborate. I wonder if it’s because he couldn’t be with Daisy back then or because he was on bad terms with his brother. Probably both.

“Did you nish folding?” Rose cuts in. “I need my black shorts for tomorrow.”

My cheeks heat at this. Laundry has now cursed me into a new shade of red. My life has taken a sad turn. Rose’s glare intensi es my swelter.

“What in that is sexual?” she chas ses like I’ve o ended her ability to talk to me without causing me to ush.

“Uhh…” I trail o . I can’t exactly admit that I touched Ryke’s boxer-briefs. Can I? It’s his fault they were in our pile to begin with.

“What did she say?” Lo’s voice s rs me awake, and I pop up from the armrest, happy to see him but not so happy to be on this conversa on s ll. His black crew-neck outlines his t, lean body, but it’s his well-styled light brown hair, cut shorter on the sides, that a racts me like a panda bear discovering bamboo for the rst me.

I think I’m drooling.

His eyes it from my head to my stomach to my toes, assessing that I am all in one bright, tomato-red piece. “Lil?”

“Lo,” I reply back.

His brows rise and then he grinds his teeth, his jaw twitching. God, I love that, and my body responds, my toes curling a bit. I smile and inwardly cheer with pom-poms and high- ves. Nothing is be er than being turned on by Loren Hale.

“Rose asked if Lily was nished folding,” Ryke rats me out.

I gawk and point an accusatory nger at him. “It’s your fault! You’re sneaking your underwear into our laundry pile. Ha!”

Ryke rolls his eyes. “This is about my underwear?”

“So you’re not denying it.” Double ha!

“I’m not fucking denying it,” he admits. “Do you have an underwear fe sh now?” His tone is serious.

“No…” I say, roas ng further.

Lo stands behind me and presses his hands playfully to my ears. “Don’t say the word fe sh, it turns Connor on.”

I smile, and Connor wears a billion-dollar grin. “Words are my favorite sex toy,” he says and then walks over to his wife.

I take a deep breath, not feeling so much like the abnormal sex-crazed monster now.

Ryke nods to me. “What’s the deal, Lily?” He’s trying to understand more parts of my addic on, especially since I opened up to him at Hale Co., so it’s only right that I clarify.

“I touched your underwear.” I scrunch my nose. That’s good enough of an explana on, right?

It clicks for him. “It’s a piece of cloth, not my fucking cock.”

Please stop talking about your cock, Ryke. I spin around, wan ng to leave before my body turns into Brutus, the ul mate betrayer. I turn right into Lo’s hard chest. Perfect. I love it here.

Lo rests his hands on my shoulders, hugging me closer to him. Even be er.

“What’d I do wrong?” Ryke asks, concern in his voice.

“Maybe don’t men on your cock in front of my girlfriend,” Lo says dryly.

I can prac cally feel him grimace. “Got it.”

Connor chimes in, “Are you sure, Ryke? Those were really complex instruc ons. I can always transcribe them for you.”

I peek from my Loren Hale cocoon to spot Ryke ipping o Connor. I let out another breath, glad to have overcome this li le hurdle. I could’ve given Ryke another week-long silent treatment instead of s cking it out.

“What…did you do to your hair?” Rose suddenly asks, seeing Daisy rst and everyone quiets.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

LILY CALLOWAY

“STOP LOOKING AT ME, PLEASE,” Daisy announces to the en re room. All the couches pushed aside, we stand on the cream rug in a circle. Her hair has taken the spotlight for the past ten minutes. I’m kinda grateful to have a distrac on. I hold my plas c baby, carefully a emp ng to emulate Rose’s baby-cradling form. Sweat gathers under my boobs, which is a whole new feeling for me. I’ve never had big enough breasts for boob-sweat.

“It’s hard not to,” Lo tells her, his doll cradled on his arm. “It’s just so bright. I’m almost blinded.”

I elbow him in the side to stop. Normally he’d mock wince, but his focus is on Daisy. She groans and covers her eyes with one hand. I no ce how she holds her doll by the wrist, the plas c torso dangling.

“I know, I know. It’s really bad,” Daisy says.

Ryke tucks his doll underneath his armpit. Literally, he just shoved the baby’s face in there. Only Rose seems to be paying a en on to Ryke’s placement, her eyes slowly narrowing to pinpoints. He’s busy messing Daisy’s hair with a playful hand. She exhales a breath.

Her medium-length locks are dyed yellow. Like a highlighter. I’m with Lo on this one, it’s bright. Over the past few months, Daisy has changed her hair to every color under the sun, some highlights, some a full-dye job, some pre y, others ugly. All the while, she took the change with enthusiasm and excitement. This is the rst me I’ve seen her visibly upset over the hue.

“What color were you trying to dye it?” Connor asks, his doll cradled a li le di erently than Rose—the head more supported. I hone in on this detail and shi my doll to a be er posi on. I glance at Ryke.

He’s s ll su oca ng his baby.

“Blonde,” Daisy admits.

“You wanted to return to blonde?” Rose asks with a frown, not men oning how Daisy may damage her hair if she keeps dyeing it so much.

Ryke’s hand has dropped to the small of Daisy’s back, more caringly, but his face has hardened to that familiar stone.

“Yeah, I don’t know.” Daisy grips her doll, dressed in a pink onesie, more securely underneath the arms. “Please let’s do this CPR class.”

“Can we not call it a class?” I ask, my arms trembling a li le with nerves. “I just graduated, and classes and I aren’t the best of friends.” I have bombed more college courses than the average person, but maybe I can blame Princeton for being unnaturally hard.

“CPR training then,” Connor amends.

“Ryke has already smothered his kid,” Lo jokes, nodding to his brother across our circle.

Ryke just realizes that he has his doll in a blue onesie tucked in his pit. He holds him in one hand by the waist, like a football. “Why do we have to fucking do this again?” Ryke asks, mo oning between himself and Daisy. “You all probably won’t let us babysit your kid anyway.”

“If you plan on holding him like that I’m not going to,” Lo tells his brother.

Ryke adjusts the doll again, and I end up smiling at the way he’s cradling the baby, like Lo. They’re both being as gentle as they can be, taking it more seriously. I thought Lo was going to throw jabs at Rose the whole me, but he’s being considerate and looks kinda sexy with a baby in his arms.

“I just can’t see any of you leaving your kid with me,” Ryke suddenly admits.

Connor stares right at Ryke, and they meet each other’s eyes. “You’d be surprised about what I’d let you do,” Connor tells him.

Rose doesn’t even disagree. I try to wipe the mental image of Ryke handling the doll with less care. Now that he pays more a en on, it seems like he’d be okay with Maximo .

Ryke looks to Lo like you don’t want me near your baby, right?

“It’s your choice, man,” Lo says. “You don’t want to be a part of my kid’s life. That’s ne.” The edge in his voice doesn’t match his words.

Ryke scowls. “You know I do.”

“Then that’s why you’re here.”

Daisy bounces on her feet, hugging the doll to her chest. “I’d love to babysit whenever you need me.” She looks to Rose. “You’d let me watch your girl, right?” Her lopsided smile makes the room glow. Her hair helps.

Daisy might as well have kissed Rose’s heels. Our older sister is beaming, so happy that someone else is playing into the idea that she’s having a girl. Personally, I’d love for Rose to have a daughter. Just to see her happy. I think all of us want that. Well, except Lo. He wants her to have a boy in spite.

I expect Rose to ower Daisy with compliments and yes, of course, you can watch her words. Instead, she says, “If you pass.”

Lo lets out a short laugh. “Are you going to make everyone who wants to touch your baby ll out a hundred-page ques onnaire?”

“Maybe.” She xes her hair to one side of her shoulder while Connor studies Rose with more concern, sidling closer to her. He whispers in her ear and she nods to him. The bad thing about nerd stars: they’re so high up that it’s hard to hear or see unless you exist in space with them.

I’m not smart enough to even breach the Earth’s atmosphere, so I just try to watch from down below.

“I actually have something for you Rose…” Lo says, detaching from my side. This can’t be good. He sets his boy doll on the table and heads to the hall closet.

“If it doesn’t come in a jewelry box, you can keep it,” Rose snaps.

“I’m not keeping this.” Lo rummages around for a couple seconds before returning with a at box wrapped in green, pink, and blue paper. I wear a confused expression, not involved in this plan. Lo must’ve bought that on his way home from work or something.

Rose zeroes in on the colors. “I told everyone no baby gi s.” She didn’t want a baby shower. I think it would’ve overwhelmed her anyway, all the baby things and people staring at her stomach. I’m having one closer to my due date, but it’s not a big event or anything. Just family.

“Which is why I decided to get you one,” Lo says, topping it o with a half-smile. He walks over and shoves the box at her.

She stares at him blankly. “I hate you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” he tells her. “Just open it before you start hexing me.”

She hu s and tears the paper gently while Lo returns to my side. I’m more nervous.

I stand on my toes and whisper to him, “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. It didn’t seem like something that important.”

But I can see that it ma ers to him.

“You can rip the paper,” Lo tells her.

Rose shoots him a look and con nues neatly opening the box. When she li s the lid and brushes the ssue paper aside, her face so ens and her lips part.

I frown further. “What is it?”

Rose holds up a bundle of pastel green onesies and shows o the top one: orange tabby cats printed all over the green co on. It’s so cute and—

“Unisex,” Lo men ons. “Just in case you have a boy.” He doesn’t add that the cats are just like Sadie, who Connor has already given to Frederick, his therapist, to take care of for a while. Rose was visibly upset the en re day that Sadie le , her eyes reddened like she’d been crying.

“I don’t know what to say,” Rose murmurs, her eyes traversing along the fabric.

“Thanks, Lo, you’re so sweet,” he tells her. “I could hug you but I haven’t oiled my rusted joints this morning.”

She glares and delicately sets the onesies back in the box. “And now I hate you again.”

Lo mockingly touches his heart. “I’ll cherish that hate forever.”

I clear my throat, making sure that none of the bickering goes too far. Lo drops his gaze on me and then brushes his hand against my hip before retrieving his doll. The embrace sends shockwaves down my spine, and he stands very, very close to me.

“We should start,” Connor says, checking his watch.

Rose places a hand on her lower back, like it hurts, but she stays upright with the rest of us. Connor watches her more cau ously but never draws a en on to her.

“So what’s the scenario?” Lo asks Connor. “The baby is choking on a bu on or a penny?”

My eyes widen in horror. “What?”

Lo strokes my head. “It’s pretend, love.”

“I thought we established that pretend things with us become real?” Have we just jinxed ourselves without realizing?

“No scenarios,” Rose pipes in. “It’s bad luck.”

Connor looks a ronted by the men on of luck, but he doesn’t rile Rose, most likely because she’s in some sort of pain. “You can do this si ng down, darling.”

She nods and se les in the Queen Anne, pushed by the wall. The doll rests snuggly on her lap.

Connor has his eyes on her for an extended moment before he turns to us. “First, you want to check the baby’s consciousness.”

This sounds hard. “How do we do that?” My doll is certainly unconscious, de nitely not alive.

“You tap the baby gently.” Connor demonstrates by tapping the baby’s shoulder and the bo om of her foot. “Magdala. Magdala. Can you hear me?”

Rose sco s from her chair. “I got rid of my middle name because I hated it, not so we can name our child Magdala.”

“Rose Calloway Cobalt,” Connor says her full name, ditching Magdala and replacing it with Calloway. No hyphena on. She’s been Cobalt since she married Connor. “Like Lo said, this is pretend. I can name our pretend daughter whatever I want.”

She rolls her eyes drama cally and waves him on. “Please, con nue. I hope our pretend daughter pukes on your shoulder.”

Connor grins, and before he opens his mouth to respond, I redirect the conversa on. “Back to the training,” I announce. This is important to me. I really do want to know the informa on before Maximo arrives. “We tap the baby and call out its name. Then what?”

“If the baby is unresponsive, you call 911. And then you place him or her on a hard at surface.” He mo ons to the co ee table in the middle of the circle. “And you start CPR.” Connor takes us through the steps: thirty chest compressions with our ngers, opening the airway, and administering rescue breaths. I le all the informa on into the important— don’t ever forget folder in my head.

My heart beats loudly in my chest. Okay, I can do this. I internally nod, boos ng some of my self-con dence. I can’t be declared a bad mom un l I do something wrong. So Celebrity Crush and their polls can suck it.

I blow out a breath, and then I lightly tap Bert’s foot. “Bert? Bert?” I say. “Can you hear me?”

“Bert?” Lo laughs at my name choice.

My brows pinch. “What’s your baby’s name?” Bert is awesome. He’s already a winner. I can feel it.

Lo holds his doll to his ear, as though listening to him speak. He’s teasing me, and I nd myself hooking a nger through Lo’s belt loop, holding Bert in the crook of my arm. “Knew it,” Lo says with a nod, bringing his baby back down.

“What’s his name?” I already feel myself smiling.

“Ernie,” he says, and my heart swells. And then he taps his baby’s arm. “Ernie, buddy? Can you hear me?”

The doorbell rings, and I jump in fright. “Who is it?” I ask.

Everyone shakes their heads like they didn’t invite someone over today.

Connor sets his doll on the table and then disappears in the foyer to answer the door. The room is layered with tense silence. Since we’re all here, the person outside is most likely a bearer of bad news. Why else would they stop by?

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

LILY CALLOWAY

“DO YOU NEED A HAND WITH THAT?” I hear Connor say.

“No, I have it.”

I recognize the second manly voice: Sam Stokes. And in a second, both guys emerge in the living room, Sam carrying a box with Fizzle’s logo on the side. He’s in a suit like he’s been at work all Saturday a ernoon.

“Hey,” he greets, but his gaze lands on Ryke, heading over to him. “The shipment came in today, and we’ll need to talk later about the unveiling.” He sets the box at Ryke’s feet and squats down to open it. I remember Ryke men oning that my dad wanted his help, but he shrugged it o and said it wasn’t going to pan out.

So his face is darkened with confusion.

I nd myself pa ng my doll’s bu in comfort, like Bert is alive. My cheeks heat, hoping no one no ced.

“He really wants to go through with this?” Ryke asks Sam. “It’s a fucking bad idea.”

“It’s not,” Sam says, trying to cut through the taped package by ripping at it. He struggles as he talks. “We did mul ple focus groups, and more people were drawn to the product when you were the face of it.”

“I was dropped by mul ple fucking brands,” Ryke reminds him. “My image isn’t good, and I shouldn’t be represen ng any kind of drink.” Huh. My dad is crea ng a new drink?

Sam stops gh ng with the box and looks up at Ryke. “You’re masculine, athle c and you never quit, which is what we’re branding. If you don’t want to help, all you have to do is say so. Don’t waste my me.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Daisy chimes in. “Not for me.”

Sam catches sight of Daisy, and his eyes grow big at her hair. “That’s a… new color.”

“Neon I’m-Going-to-Blind-You Yellow,” Lo adds. “What’s terrifying is that some girl is probably going to copy her.”

I don’t elbow Lo again. Daisy is solely concentrated on Ryke, and I can read his expression pre y well. He wants to smooth things out with our parents, and she can’t stop him from doing it. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a Swiss army knife. Then he bends down and cuts open the box for Sam.

I near with Lo, too curious to stand back, and Ryke grabs one of the slim plas c bo les, translucent blue liquid inside. I understand the moment I read the silver label: Zi . And below that is the avor: Blue Squall.

It’s a sports drink, the kind that can rival PepsiCo’s Gatorade and Coca-Cola’s Powerade. It’s the one arena Fizzle has failed at mul ple mes, and I suppose he’s hoping they can launch a new string of sports drinks with Ryke as the face.

“Zi ?” Ryke says with furrowed brows.