Hothouse Flower (31 page)

< 47 >

RYKE MEADOWS

I’ve never been this fucking aroused in my life. With
her standing on the back of the motorcycle, I went from fear to desire in a
minute flat. After I was certain she was safe, I kept picturing her behind me.
I kept picturing what she looked like, holding onto my shoulders, one of my
hands gripping hers. And then my mind rerouted and I pictured her legs spread
open and my entire cock filling her.

I want this, right here, with her. My fucking body aches for
it, and my mind is through hesitating. I remember how many times we’ve been on
a bike together, and how restrained we’ve been. It all fucking flies out the
window.

My mouth meets hers, and we consume each other with each
fucking kiss, more natural, more animalistic than anything I’ve felt before. My
core screams for her, as though she’s mine and only mine, and I’ve finally
returned home.

I don’t want to spend an extra ten minutes stripping, so I
reach into my boot and grab my knife. Her eyes widen, glimmering with that
beautiful curiosity. She goes rigid, careful not to fidget while I unhook the
button on her jeans and cut the fabric to the pocket. I sheath my knife in my
boot, and rip the jeans even more with one forceful movement. Her yellow
panties are exposed, and I easily tear those off her body. She’s already
dripping and ready for me.

My cock fucking screams for release.

“
Ryke
,” she breathes, her mouth
open. I kiss her, holding the back of her head, and she practically whimpers
underneath me.

Fuck.
I suck her
neck while my fingers fill her. She’s wetter than I’ve ever felt, and it’s not
long before her body bucks up into mine, her cry piercing the open air. We’re
shielded from the road, private for the most part, but it’s still new. It’s
still a place I’ve never fucked, and what we’re about to do, I’ve never done.

On a motorcycle.

With a girl I fucking love.

I would smile if my body wasn’t so pent up, ready to drive
into her and fuck her hard and sweet. I unzip my pants, lowering them below my
ass along with my boxer-briefs. And then I grab her legs and spread them wider
before I guide myself inside her, slowly. I watch her reaction, making sure I
don’t hurt her.

She clutches my neck and starts rocking her hips before I’m
even halfway in. So I go all the way. She cries and stops pushing forward, her
noise seriously fucking messing with my head. It’s high-pitched and full of
unbridled pleasure, full of torrid lust.

I burn when I watch her, when I hear her, my senses
blistering into ash.

“Dais,” I say forcefully, reaching above her to grip the
handlebar. It allows me to push deeper. Once. Twice. My erection fitting
perfectly inside of Daisy.

She cries, her eyelids fluttering.

I lift her leg higher around my waist, and she breathes like
she’s having a panic attack.

“I can’t…” She shakes her head from side to side.

I kiss her lips and slow down for a second. “You can, Dais.”
I know. It’s fucking intense.
These
feelings are blinding.

And we’re on a bike, straddling it together. I drop her leg
and pull her closer to my chest so she’s in a sitting position. Instinctively
her feet rest on the seat behind me, her legs tucked around my waist.

She tightens around my cock as I thrust against her. I put
my hand on her lower back, a grunt scratching my throat.
Fuck.

“This is—” she starts and then she cries out, her sudden
climax forcing her body to me, I hold onto her and only have to thrust two more
times before I release, my mind breaking into a million fucking shards. As she
pulses, descending off that cliff, she begins to laugh with so much happiness.

It’s a full-bellied, world-altering laugh. Even as she takes
a moment to engrain this image in her head, the two of us, as intimate and
close as you can be, on this
sportbike
, she still
smiles like it’s the best picture in the world.

She meets my gaze. “This was the best ride you’ve taken me
on so far.”

I kiss her strongly and then say, “Want to go again?”

She answers by wrapping her arms around my neck and scooting
closer, her grin brightening the universe.

The red dust whips around us. I don’t give a fuck. I make
love to her like it’s the most primal experience in the world.

Like it’s what our bodies are created to do.
 

< 48 >

RYKE MEADOWS

I ride through the night. Daisy sleeps in my arms
for some of it, straddled backwards and facing me. I think she averages about
four hours of sleep a day, which is better than what she had been doing off
Ambien. But I wish I could hold her in my arms through the night, with no
restlessness, no moment where she wakes and struggles to return to that peace.
I just want what she had—before the media, before the mental trauma.

She is making more progress. We stayed at a hotel one night,
and I didn’t have to do our routine, showing her that I locked every single
door and checking the shower. She could sleep for a couple hours without that
knowledge and feel safe.

I kiss the top of her head and drive on.

The sunrise breaks across the horizon, oranges and reds
spilling together. Out west, the quiet atmosphere tranquilizes me, clearing my
head. I thought I could show this to my brother. I thought that we could share
it, but circumstances or fate or whatever split us apart.

To have this time with Daisy means just as much, but I do
recognize that each moment spent with her is a moment away from Lo during his
recovery. A part of me is glad to be in Utah, meeting up with him, so I can be
there if he needs me.

The other half selfishly wants to go back to the fantasy I
had with Daisy—to hide for just a few hours longer before reality comes
crashing into us.

I turn a corner and the bike rattles on a gravel road,
stirring Daisy from her sleep. I park by a lookout point and remove her helmet
before I take off mine.

She rubs her eyes and squints against the sunlight. “What
time is it?” she asks with a yawn.

“Morning.”

“Very…” she yawns again. “…accurate.” She turns her head to
catch the sunrise, the warm glow bathing her face in color. “It’s gorgeous…”

It has nothing on her.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and she wraps her arms around
my waist while I check it with one hand.

We’re in the
Canyonlands
. I’ll send you a pin. You can meet us there
–
Connor

I receive the pin and check the map. “We’re ten minutes
away,” I tell Daisy. “They’re already there. You ready to see your sisters?”

She nods, but I can see the slight apprehension in her eyes.
Outing our relationship to them is the first step before she has to tell her
mom. A woman who fucking despises my guts, and I worry once she sees Daisy’s
face, she’ll hate me even more.

We put our helmets back on, and she changes positions,
sitting behind me. I take off, heading in the right direction.
 

Seven minutes later, I roll up somewhere by the Green River,
not very much traffic around. Mammoth canyons and red rock structures landscape
the area. I recognize the black SUV parked by the start of a hiking trail, but
I don’t see any of them around.

I check the pin again and realize they’ve hiked towards one
of the arches, made from the same red rock. They’re popular formations, so I’m
not surprised they’re beside it. I’m just surprised Rose would walk in her five-inch
fucking heels to go there.

It takes us about five minutes trekking across the red dirt
to find them underneath the large rock that juts to the sky. As the hot sun
begins to rise, larger shadows disappear, increasing the temperature.

“Hey guys!” Daisy waves to them, and they all spin around,
but none come to meet us halfway. They all just stare.

And it’s at this moment that I know something is very
fucking wrong.

My gut knots with every step, and I can’t tear my eyes off
my brother’s. His cheekbones are sharpened, his eyes cold and pissed. He can’t
still be angry at me for the paparazzi? I thought Connor would have talked him
down from that. But Lo likes to harbor a lot of fucking resentment towards me.
Yeah, I fucked up. The paparazzi found our campsite in Tennessee and destroyed
my promises to him. His fury though, it looks like it’s on another level.

Deeper.

Rawer.

From years and years of pain.

“Love the hair, Dais,” Lily says as we get closer, but her
voice breaks, like she knows something bad is about to happen.

And my brother—he breathes heavily, pure malice coating his
amber eyes. His nose flares, and then he starts walking towards me.

I stop in my place. “Daisy,” I tell her. “Go to your
sisters.”

“
Ryke
—”

“Fucking
go
,” I
growl.
 

She backs away from me, not joining her sisters. But she
gives me enough space as my brother approaches with a frosty glare.

I don’t know what this is about.

Maybe our father.

Maybe Daisy.

Maybe something else.

Maybe all of the above.

I have a laundry list of bad fucking deeds with good
intentions.

“Lo.” I hold out my hands in defense, surrender, mercy. I’m
raising a white flag. I don’t want to hit him. I can’t hit him. “What’s wrong?
Let’s talk about this.” He’s only ten feet away now.

“You
wanna
talk about it?” His
voice is full of pain. “I gave you a million fucking chances to
talk
about it,” he sneers. “I’m
so done talking to you.” His fist flies
and hits my jaw hard. I go down when his knee drives into my stomach.

I cough roughly.

“Lo, stop!” Daisy screams.

I turn my head, and my heart pitches to my throat. She’s
running towards us, but Connor is faster and stronger. He picks her up while
she thrashes in his arms.

My eyes soften in thanks. I barely produce that look of
gratitude before Lo punches my face again. I turn my head and spit blood onto
the dirt.

I hear Lily in the background, trying to tell Lo to calm
down. I hear Connor, telling all of the girls to let us work this out.

He knows this fight was going to happen sooner or later.

It’s finally arrived, and the agony tears at my chest. Not
physical pain. Even as his third swing connects with my jaw—I can take those
hits.

It’s the torment in my little brother’s eyes. It’s the way
he’s looking at me—like I betrayed him. Like I ruined his life. Like I ripped
up his fucking soul. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I didn’t mean to cause him
more misery.
You should have left him
alone.

But he would have been drunk! He would still be fucking
drinking if I didn’t walk into his life. I shook him as hard as I could back
then. I brought him to rehab. I talked to him nearly every night during his
ninety day recovery, and afterwards, I looked after him.

Yeah? Look at him now.

Fuck! I want to punch something—I’m silently screaming for
this internal battle to finally end.

“Hit me,” he sneers.

I shake my head, my fingers digging into the red dirt,
trying to form fists.
Stop,
Ryke
.
I could so easily stand up and beat the hell out
of him. And he’ll let me. It’s what he wants. He’s asking for that pain. It’s
like at that Halloween party when I first saw him three years ago.

He’s begging to feel something more than these emotions,
suffocating with this torment. He’s asking for me to replace this fucking
torture. And right now, I can’t feed into that illness.
I can’t.

“Come on,” he sneers, his eyes reddening with rage and
sorrow. Tears welling. “I’ve seen you beat the shit out of guys twice the size
of me. I know you want to punch me.” He steps towards me. “Fight back!”

I pick myself off the ground, staggering unsteadily. “I
won’t.”

He shoves me in the chest.

I raise my hands. “Lo—”

He punches me again. I stumble backwards but keep my balance
this time.

Daisy wails in the background. “STOP IT!” She’s crying.

Lily is crying.

I even think Rose may be crying. But she dusts off her tears
quickly and sniffs.

Lo points at me. “You’re a goddamn coward.”

Now he’s starting to sound like our father. I just keep my
mouth shut.

Through gritted teeth he says, “You’re so fucking scared to
talk to our dad. You’re so scared to talk to your own mom.” He takes a few
steps forward. I take a few steps back. I’m the prey, the thing he’s about to
skin alive.

“What do you want me to say?” I growl. “I’m fucking scared?”
I point at my chest. “I’m
fucking
scared,
Lo!” My eyes burn with this horrible fucking pain.
Fucking hell.
“I’m so fucking scared they’re going to manipulate me
into loving them when all I want to do is forget!”

“What’d they fucking do to you?!” Lo screams. “I lived with
our
dad. You sat in your pearly white
fucking mansion with a mom who loved you!”

I shake my head. This isn’t going to solve anything. My
chest rises and falls.

“Tell me!” Lo yells. “Tell me how you had it so fucking bad,
Ryke
. What’d he do to you? Did he smack the back of
your head when you got a C on a math test? Did he scream in your face when you
were benched for a little league game?” He nears me, his eyes narrowed, his
cheeks wet. “What’d he fucking do?”

I shake my head again. I’m not the victim like Lo. There’ll
be no good in explaining myself. It’ll just be more shit on top of shit.

Lo pushes me in the chest again and this time something
snaps and I respond, pushing back. He stumbles, but the force doesn’t knock him
to the dirt.

“I’m not fucking fighting you!” I scream. But he doesn’t
listen. He charges again, and when he tries to push me over, I shove him down
to the ground.

I’m stronger than him.

I’m older than him.

I’m the best and worst thing that ever came into his life. I
know this.

I pin him down on his back, my hands on his wrists and my
knee digging into his ribs. “I don’t want to fight you, Lo,” I choke.

His eyes redden further. “You spend so much of your fucking
time trying to save me,” he says, “and you don’t even realize you’re killing
me.” A tear slides down his cheek. He takes shallow breaths and then he lets it
out. “The news isn’t just in Philly, you know. It’s everywhere we fucking go.
All the way to a gas station in Utah.” His eyes are flooded with sadness. “They
think he molested me. The whole goddamn nation. People think my own father
touched me, and you won’t do a thing about it.” His broken gaze stabs me
repeatedly. “Why do you believe them and not me?”

“I believe you,” I whisper, no hesitation this time. I
believe him. I think I may always have. Something more stops me from defending
Jonathan Hale, something so raw that it hurts to touch. I’m forced to confront
these emotions again because I returned to this life. I could have left it all
behind like I planned to. If I had done nothing three years ago, if I had left
Lo at that Halloween party, I would have never revisited this hate. I’d never
meet these feelings that I had shelved away.

Lo must read the look I wear because he asks, “What the fuck
did he do to make you hate him so
much?”

He’s asked me this once before, and I gave him a half-assed
answer. The whole truth is going to seem vane and selfish. So fucking stupid
compared to my brother who’s had twenty-three years with him. But I owe Lo the
truth. I’ve lied to him enough.

“He chose you,” I say. “He chose his bastard kid over me and
my mom, and I fucking lied for him my entire life. I hid my identity for him. I
had no mom in public because I was Meadows and she was Sara Hale. I had no
fucking dad to show for. I saved his reputation, and he buried me six feet in
the fucking ground every single day he chose you over me, every day he paraded
you around and shoved me aside. I couldn’t breathe I was so fucking angry.”

His nose flares again, holding back more emotion. “I thought
you knew about me when you were fifteen.”

“I told you that I met him at a country club every week. I
knew his name. I knew he was my father. He was a fucking socialite, so I was
smart enough to figure out that his son was my brother. They just didn’t tell
me until I was fifteen.” I shake with this rage that throttles my bones. It’s
not at Lo. It’s at the past, at everything that happened.

I wish I could reverse time and just wipe it all away. But
it’s here, and it fucking sucks. I lift my body off of his, but I can’t stand.
Too emotionally exhausted, I sink to my knees, drained and weak. My face
throbs, positive that he’s given me more than a couple of bruises.

He doesn’t even sit up, his eyes burning into the sky.

“I hold grudges,” I confess. “But I think you do too, Lo.” I
look at him and his jaw clenches tightly. He’s never let me off the hook, never
forgiven me for hating our dad and not seeking him out sooner.

“I just wish you could love me more than you hate him,” Lo
tells me. It’s the most honest thing he’s ever said. He turns his head and
looks at me, eyes filled with tears. “Is that even fucking possible?”

My whole body aches. I’ve spent so many years regretting
every evil thought I had towards Lo, every curse I fucking wished upon him,
every piece of hate that darkened my soul. I know where he comes from now. A
house where a mother never loved him. Where a father pushed him too hard. No
support to pick him up after he fucking fell.

By not coming forward about the molestation rumors, I’m
choosing to hate Jonathan over defending my brother. I never thought that was
the case. I always thought that keeping quiet meant that I finally,
finally
stopped protecting a monster,
stopped helping him cover his tracks.

I’m just like my mother.

I’m turning into her, trying to hurt Jonathan every way I
can, and in the end, the people I care about are hit in the crossfire.

All this fucking time…Samantha Calloway had been right. She
accused me of the same thing, back in Daisy’s room. And I refused to hear her
out. To believe her. I’m becoming someone I don’t want to be, and I thought I
was running far away from that person.