Hothouse Flower (40 page)

< 68 >

RYKE MEADOWS

We don’t rush the living room. I walk back and
forth in the kitchen a couple times, and then I see Daisy curled on the couch
and Rose tucking a flannel blanket around her. Her black dress rises to her
thighs as she sits beside Daisy, stroking her hair. Normally Rose would pull
down the hem of her dress, but she’s too concentrated on her sister to notice.
She whispers to Daisy, who tries to sleep.

Lily pads into the kitchen first, dried tear marks all the
way down her cheeks. Lo pulls her into his chest, leaning against the cabinets
while she wipes her face.

I’ve spent the last ten minutes explaining what happened
with Daisy’s friends to both Lo and Connor. She asked me to do that part, so it
would be less awkward. I would have told everyone months ago, but it wasn’t my
place. That story is too fucked up and personal and she needed to talk about it
with other people. I couldn’t do that for her.
 

When Rose’s heels clap into the kitchen, the tension breaks.
Her blazing yellow-green eyes are on me, and my back straightens, on the
fucking defensive. “I’ve tried to get her to talk—”

“Thank you,” she cuts me off. Surprise coats my face. I
can’t hide it, but she continues anyway. “You were there for her, and if you
weren’t, I don’t think she could have managed… So thank you.”

My throat squeezes, and I nod in reply.
 

Connor sidles behind his wife, and his arms slip around her
waist. I notice how his palm rests on her stomach for a brief moment or two.
His head lowers, and he whispers in her ear.

The silence strings through the kitchen, and there’s this
unspoken feeling of regret, of wishing we could have been there to fucking stop
it from happening. The most I could do was protect her afterwards, but it was
hard while she was still living with her parents. She had to walk down the
hallways and find an inner-strength that I couldn’t give her. I don’t think
anyone could.

 
Rose is the first to
disrupt the quiet. “I can’t believe it was her own friends.”

Friends aren’t
forever.
Daisy used to tell me that a lot. One of her fucking theories. I
wish I could disprove it, but we’ve all had shit luck with friends since the
fame. Small price to pay, most people would claim.

“I never fucking liked her friends,” I say, stuffing my
hands in my leather bike jacket. “They were fake.”

“I’m not surprised,” Connor adds. “Teenagers can be crueler
than most. They feel above the law, especially the ones who come from our kind
of lifestyle.”

Lo nods like he understands that. In prep school, he was
known to be a fucking bully and be bullied. But he was also verbally abused as
a kid—not an excuse, just a fucking fact.

Lo stares down at Lily as she starts drifting off into space.
“You okay, love?” he asks.

“I wish that had been me,” she says softly.

He kisses her temple and holds her closer. The room blankets
in a velvet silence. No one saying much of anything. But I think everyone’s
heads are at the same place. The kitchen is barren, with boxes and boxes piled
high. We’re all moving, separating, but it seems like we’re not at the place we
should be.

Any of us.

Splitting apart—it feels fucking weird, not right.

“Does your offer still stand?” Lo asks, his eyes on Connor.

“Which offer?”

“The one where we move in with you guys,” Lo says. “I was
thinking that we could buy a house with a lot of security. More than this
place. And Daisy could live with all of us. I think she might feel safer than
living alone with
Ryke
. And then when the babies are
born, we’ll just…we’ll figure it out then.”

It’s probably the most selfless suggestion my brother has
ever made. Because I know how much he hates to be moving back in with Connor
and Rose. How much he feels like a little kid on a leash, even though it’s
probably saved his ass on numerous occasions. But I also know how much Daisy
will love this.

How much it will help her.

It’s why no one says anything else about it.

It’s just understood.

< 69 >

RYKE MEADOWS

My phone vibrates in my pocket as I walk down the
carpeted staircase. I simultaneously check my text and follow Lo out of the heavy
double doors. Our new house sits in this rich neighborhood in Philly, not the
same one our parents live in—but fucking close. At least it’s gated.

At least we can fucking run down the street without fearing
a swarm of paparazzi.

I open my phone.

I love you. Maybe we
can meet up, if that’s alright. Anywhere you want.
– Mom

I stop on the stone steps outside, the birds singing. 6 a.m.
My favorite time of day. The sun hasn’t risen, but the sky is lighter and the
air is fucking cooler.

My mom.

She hurt me more than my father ever could have. Because I
loved her unconditionally. Because I sided with her against Jonathan out of
blind loyalty. Because she destroyed Lily and her family, and there’s no going
back from that.

But she’s still my mom.

She’s still the same woman who went to my track meets,
hugged me tight Christmas morning and signed me up for any hobby that I asked,
for any sport that caught my eye. She gave me the fucking world—I was just a
little fucking lost inside of it.

I’ll always have those good memories. I just need to hold
onto them.

“You coming?!” Lo calls, already at our mailbox, stretching
his legs.

“Yeah! Hang on.” My fingers move quickly across the screen.

I’d like that.

I press send and slip the phone back in my pocket. It’s the
first text in two years that I’ve replied to, the first hand I’ve extended.
Time to start over.

I walk to Lo, and I stretch beside him in the yard, not
saying anything at first. But then he speaks up. “So…I watched the interview.”

I don’t look at him. I just sit on the fucking grass and
reach out to my shoe, my muscles pulling in taut strands. “Yeah?”

“Was it hard?” he asks.

I stare off, my gaze on the dewy blades of grass, the ground
cold in the December morning. A couple weeks ago, I sat down with a reporter.

I tell Lo the honest truth, no lies. “It was one of the
hardest days of my fucking life.”

It had been more difficult than climbing three rock faces
back to back. More difficult than sitting in a jail cell. More difficult than
having a civil lunch with my father.

“You didn’t stutter or anything during it,” Lo says. “Connor
was worried you were going to forget your name.”

I laugh lightly. “Yeah…” It’s all I can really say. The
reporter, a woman in a sleek gray suit, a microphone attached to her blouse,
asked me pointblank what the nation has always wanted to know.

“Did Jonathan Hale ever inappropriately touch Loren?”

I denied every allegation, every claim that painted my dad
in a bad light and caused my brother pain.

Lo’s
Nike sole knocks into mine as
he stretches on the ground too. “You said the hardest things are usually the
right things, right?” His brows furrow. I think he’s worried that I’ll regret
making a statement to the press.

I don’t.

Not all. The allegations weren’t true. There was no reason
to keep quiet other than to punish my father, and I needed to unhook that
fucking chain from my ankles. “It was definitely the fucking right thing,” I
say with all my confidence.

His shoulders relax. “Thanks,” he says. “I mean it. Not just
for this but for taking care of Daisy, for being here for me during these rough
months. I take you for granted sometimes, but I never fucking forget that you’re
the reason I’m sober.”

I actually smile. I think my face says it all. Sometimes
it’s hard to tell that he cares, and when moments like this come, the tough
parts don’t seem so fucking bad. It’s worth everything.

We stand at the same time and head to the mailbox again,
letting go of the heavy shit before we run.

“Five miles,” Lo says jumping up and down to warm his blood.
“You’re not beating me this time, big brother. Watch yourself.”

I stumble on his use of “big brother”—said with endearment.
Somewhere along the way, I’ve earned the title.
That
feels fucking good.

“Hey you, staring off into space, did you hear me?” Lo asks,
waving his palm at me.

I smack his hand away. “You have a lacrosse stick lying
around? I like my fucking legs, so don’t break them.”

Lo spreads his arms out. “No cheating. Fair race. I expect a
fucking trophy when I beat your ass at your own sport.”

“Fat fucking chance.”

And then we both look at each other, no countdown. We just
take off at the same time.

Our paces are mimicked. Stride for stride. Leg for leg. Step
for fucking step. He runs right beside me, our rhythm exactly the same. He
pumps faster, and I push harder. Matched.

My breathing steadies and my head feels light. When I look
beside me, for the first time, I don’t see that weight on my brother’s chest. I
don’t see anything tugging him backwards.

He’s fucking smiling.

The sun streams through the trees, our distance shortening
with each step. Pride, for him, consumes me.

And it’s at four miles in—when he leaves my side and takes
five lengthy strides ahead—that I know.

He’s going to outrun me.

< 70 >

DAISY CALLOWAY

“Oh my God, it’s cold,” Lily complains, hugging
one of Rose’s white fur coats tighter around her tiny frame. Along with her
Wampa
cap, she looks like a little furry creature. Totally
huggable. Which is why I have an arm around her shoulders, taller than my older
sis.

Our breath smokes the air, standing in two feet of snow that
blew in yesterday. We hide behind a fir tree in the front lawn. Or as Lily
likes to call it:
the big ass Christmas
tree
.

“I agree,” Rose says, so cold that her bones have frozen her
into a rigid stance.

“I offered you my sweats,” I remind her. She’s in black
tights and a maxi dress that soaks in the snow. Her booties are completely sunken
in the white powder. My outfit isn’t better. I slipped on the shoes by the door
in my haste to pull my sisters outside quickly.

They were flip-flops.

Let’s just say the chill is most definitely creeping in, and
my numb toes scream for a warm bath.

Rose gives me a look at my comment, and I think she would
put her palm to my face like
don’t even
.
But she’s too cold to stretch her arms past her sides.

“I promise this is going to be worth the pain,” I say with a
big smile. I reach out and shake both of their arms playfully. I love that I
have more time left with them, and Lily shares my smile like it’s contagious.

Rose rolls her eyes. But I swear the corner of her lips
lift. She takes out her cell, and Lily reaches over me to grab it, but she’s
too far away. Rose easily clutches the phone to her chest.

“This is a stealth mission, Rose,” Lily whispers.

I snatch the phone out of Rose’s hand and pass it to Lily,
who starts checking her texts.

Rose sets her hand on her hip. “Why are you whispering?” she
snaps. “There’s no one here but us.”

Lily gapes at the screen. I lean over her shoulder and see a
series of texts back and forth between her and Connor. “You couldn’t leave his
texts unanswered for an hour?” she asks.

“He was annoying me,” she retorts. “My voice had to be
heard.”

My own phone buzzes in my jeans, and I check it quickly.

Will you be coming to
the luncheon on Sunday?
– Mom

A pit forms in my stomach. I text back:
Yeah, but
Ryke
is coming with me
.

I wait a couple seconds since she usually replies quickly,
but my phone stays silent. Every time I stop by the house, she refuses to
acknowledge
Ryke
. I think she’s partly embarrassed by
what she did with the cops, and she’s too proud to admit fault.

So she’s sticking to her guns.

But I can’t be fake to her. I can’t be friendly when she’s
being rude. And I’ve told her numerous times that if she doesn’t apologize to
Ryke
, then I won’t be the warm, cheerful daughter around
her. I’ll be a little colder.

I’m willing to meet my mom halfway. My dad told me that she
loves me too much to be stubborn for so long. To just give her time. I hope
he’s right.

“
Shhh
,” Lily whispers, her eyes
bugging. As the silence descends, I hear the sound of Rose’s Escalade rolling
into the driveway.

“One…” I whisper, listening to a couple car doors popping
open.

Lo’s
edged voice resounds across
the yard. “Christ, we need to get someone out here to plow the driveway again.”

“Two,” I count to my sisters.

“I can do it later,”
Ryke
tells
him.

I smile wide. “Three.” We run out of our hiding places, or
really, I run with frozen feet and they walk.
 
Snowballs lie in their gloved hands (mine gloveless).

I focus on the guy in the leather jacket, carrying a case of
Fizz Life and a carton of eggnog. And I pelt him with a snowball, square in the
chest, the snow bursting open and soaking his gray shirt.

I grin. And his eyes darken on me while his brows rise.
“Really, Calloway?”

“Really, really,” I say, already scooping up more snow for
my second attack.

Lily shrieks, and I glance over, realizing that
Lo’s
hair is wet and he’s started chasing her around the
snowy yard. She abandons her pre-made snowballs and runs away with a silly
smile, her hands on her head like her
Wampa
cap may
blow off.

“Nice hit, Lily!” I call.

She gives me a thumbs up.

And then cold blasts my bare skin. Right in the face. Waking
me in an instant. I smile and look at
Ryke
who has
ditched the soda and eggnog. He bends down to make his second snowball.

Game on.

I dodge his next shot and land another one at his shoulder.
I try to take a step towards him, but my flip-flop gets stuck underneath the
snow. I outstretch my arms for balance, but my weight tilts me backwards and I
fall, the white powder catching me like an icy pillow. My hair and my
long-sleeve tee is soaked through and through.

A six-foot-three guy suddenly hovers above me, blocking the
sliver of sun, undisturbed by clouds. His dark eyes swirl with protectiveness
and lust. He grabs my ankles out of the snow and inspects my footwear. His face
hardens. “You’re fucking insane.” He removes my flip-flops and rubs one of my
reddened feet.

I tilt my head back and almost moan. “That feels so good.”

And then his eyes pin on my chest.

I glance down. My nipples are totally hard, and the thin
white shirt is see-through. The words printed right below say:
Taken.

He shrugs off his leather jacket, his intense gaze still
pinned on my boobs, and my chest rises and falls heavier than before.

“Didn’t you hear?” I ask, watching him watch me. “I’m
taken.”

“I heard,”
Ryke
says, scooping me
in his arms and wrapping the jacket around my shoulders. His eyes meet mine. “I
also heard that he’s the only one who can keep up with you.” And then he lifts
me in his arms, the breath blowing out of my lungs.

With his hands underneath my back and legs, he carries me
towards the driveway. I realize that we’re outside, alone, and the other two
couples have retreated to the warm indoors. I don’t even think Rose
participated, but at least she withstood the cold in camaraderie.

I reach up and run my fingers through the hair by the back
of his neck. And his hard muscles tighten, his eyes descending down my body
once more. Then he kisses me, his tongue effortlessly sliding against mine,
heating every inch of my skin.
 

I’m in his arms.

No longer just the sister of his brother’s girlfriend.

Or the sister of a friend.

Not even just a friend.

I am his.

And as he carries me into the house, the kiss turning more
and more urgent and fiery, I realize something, deep in my heart.

We are free.

No matter if the public hates us. No matter if my mom never
accepts him. We’ve done all that we can for now.

I smile into the next kiss, my hand rising in his thick
hair.

“I can’t narrow it down to ten,” Rose tells Connor, cutting
into our moment. We both break apart and turn our heads.

Rose has her legs tucked beside her on the cream suede couch
while Connor passes her a mug of coffee. His hand is draped over her thighs,
keeping her close to his body.

“You need to unless you want to have fifty kids, darling,”
he tells her.

Rose looks over to Lily and Lo, the latter of which is
watching me in
Ryke’s
arms. Even though Lo is still
getting used to seeing us like this, he doesn’t scold or reprimand
Ryke
. He just lets us be.
 

“How many names do you have picked out?” Rose asks Lily.
“Connor thinks it’s ridiculous that I have
options
.”
This must have been the subject of their text war.

Connor says, “You can have one or two options, anymore
becomes superfluous.”

“Why am I married to you?” she retorts.

He replies in French, and I’m fairly certain he says:
Because you love me. And I love you
.

Ryke
must have his fill of them
because he starts carrying me to the staircase. But I see the look on my
sister’s face, something pure and magical and beautiful.

Definitely love.

“We only have two names, one if it’s a boy and one if it’s a
girl,” Lily tells Rose.

Her mouth drops and Connor gives her an
I told you so
expression.

They all break out in discussion, Lo starting to bicker with
Rose.

I was worried that they’d all change now that they’re having
kids—that they’d desert their twenties for the mini-van and every time-suck
that seems to come with children. Maybe they will eventually, but right now, I
revel in the impromptu snowball fights, the game nights and the dinners we cook
together. We’re rooming as though we’re living on a college campus, saving
rent, but we’re also living as sisters.

It reminds me every day that I’m only eighteen. They’re only
twenty-three and twenty-five.

We have years to grow up and split apart.

That time doesn’t have to come yet.

Halfway up the stairs,
Ryke
sets
me on my feet, his eyes grazing me from head to toe with powerful want. I want
him too. I walk backwards and he follows in close pursuit.

“You know what would make me closer to my sisters?” I joke.
And then I rub my belly.

His eyes darken. “You know that handstand you did this
morning?”

“Yeah.”

“And that cartwheel?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And how you tried to do a fucking backflip off the
trampoline?”

I smile at the fresh memory. “That was really fun.” Snow
blew up at my face with each bounce. I take a couple more steps backwards,
ascending the staircase. He matches me.

“Imagine not being able to do all of that for nine fucking
months, Calloway.”

I stop on one of the stairs, my smile fading. That
sounds…not fun.

He reaches me and holds the back of my head, his lips
brushing my ear, “No restraints. One-hundred-and-fifty miles per hour. You and
me, sweetheart.”

My smile returns.
That
sounds much better.