Addicted After All (Addicted #3)(131)

“Hi, Lily,” my dad suddenly says next to me.

I almost flinch by his presence, and I’m even more surprised when he chooses to stay put. “Do you…want to watch the climb with Mom?” I ask.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets, dressed in an identical white-collared Fizzle shirt like Sam. “I’m good here.”

I take a glance over my shoulder at Lo. With concerned wrinkles along his forehead, his eyes are trained solely on his older brother. Ryke kisses my little sister and then picks up his bottle of Ziff, about to chug it before he ascends.

The chatter escalates from reporters and more people, drowning out the buzzing wind.

“Lily…” My dad starts but then hesitates and his lips close. He smiles nervously like he’s unsure of what to say or how to say it.

A lump rises in my throat, and for a split-second I contemplate clearing it with Blue Squall.

But he speaks again before I venture down that road. “I was upset for a long time.”

My bones lock, and my eyes widen in surprise. I can’t say anything. He hasn’t mentioned my sex addiction to me ever, and I have a feeling that’s the direction he’s going.

“I just couldn’t find a reason why you’d do…that.” He pauses, his eyes dropping to the grass. “…when I’d given you so much.”

A violent breeze tangles my hair and waters my eyes. I’m going to blame the wind as my father finally admits to blaming me. The pain wells like a pit in my ribs. “I’m sorry,” I barely croak.

He shakes his head, and his reddened eyes meet mine. “Don’t be. I felt betrayed and hurt because I couldn’t face the reality.” He gives me a saddened smile, and I’m more aware of the gray strands that salt his brown hair. “I spent over half my life working for my daughters, to provide you with a better life than I had, and it’s a very hard realization to admit—that what I worked so hard for ended up doing the inverse of what I dreamed.”

I shake my head. He blames himself. For my addiction. Tears threaten to fall, and I try desperately to suppress them.

He takes my hand in his and says, “You’ve been my shy little girl for so long, and I should’ve recognized that you weren’t all there. As an adult, as a parent and as your father, I am so sorry.”

Hot liquid rolls down my cheeks. Why here? Why now? I ache to ask these questions, but I see the answers in his watery gaze. And as he wipes my tears. No one can really pinpoint a reason why and when someone grows courage.

It happens over time, and my father has cemented this painful, raw reality—the one I have always been living in. And what’s funnier, it’s more peaceful with him here. It doesn’t hurt as badly.

“Thank you,” I whisper, sniffing and blinking back more tears. I have to ask… “Would you want to…maybe come to therapy one day with me? If you don’t want to, I completely understand—”

“I’d like that, Lily.” And then he hugs me, my heart bursting. A moment passes and he asks, “Now how do you like Ziff? Be honest.”

Oh no. I rub my nose with my arm, very unladylike, but my father doesn’t care. “Uh…” I wince like I can’t exactly say my thoughts aloud.

“That bad?” he asks, his brows shooting up his forehead in worry. He steals my bottle and inspects the label. “The recipe did well with kids your age.” I remember Sam saying as much about the multiple test groups.

“Maybe it’s just me.” I shrug.

He gives me a tight squeeze. “With Ryke as the face, it has a good chance to succeed. That’s what I’m hoping.” He never intended for Ryke to fail. All this time, he was hoping Ryke could help Fizzle, a company that my dad considers a fifth child. It’s nice to know that he’s had good intentions, even if we all predict a Mountain Berry Fizz 2.0, with a short shelf-life.

After another brief second, I focus on the cliff with my father. The tension is nearly gone, and he keeps his arm around my shoulders. The waterworks almost start up again.

In a matter of minutes, Ryke scales the rock with speed and precision. Twenty feet high. Then fifty. He’s to the top faster than those bottled pyramids probably took to build. With a sweaty chest and slicked back hair, he chugs another entire bottle of Ziff again.

The crowds roar in enthusiasm. It’s a picture-perfect moment, a brilliant ad for a magazine or a commercial. Everyone claps and cheers. Even my father. With a prideful smile, his palms smack together.

He likes Ryke. He may not want him with Daisy. But it’s hard not to admire Ryke’s bravery. He defies the impossible every time he climbs.

I try to let out a breath, but it tightens the moment Ryke begins to put on a harness, preparing to repel to the base. Ryke once mentioned that the most dangerous part of rock climbing isn’t the ascent but rather the descent. So my stomach flip-flops all over again.

And then he repels.

Down.

And down. And down.

When a big gust of wind blows through, the crowds seem to shush at the exact same moment. But it’s nothing to Ryke. Within seconds, he safely touches the grass. Then he stumbles over his own feet and reaches out for the rock face as a support.

I don’t understand what’s wrong.

Daisy sprints over to him, and when Ryke raises his head, I notice the color lost in his skin.