Addicted After All (Addicted #3)(153)

Lo’s shoulders relax and he nods at me. “Okay.”

“Rose’s username is RoseCCobalt,” I tell him. “It was the only free one.”

“So I’m guessing Loren Hale is taken?” he asks me.

I nod. “Yep.”

“Wait, how can someone take our names?” Ryke frowns.

Oh jeez. He’s the only one not up to speed on the ways of Twitter. Daisy shows him her phone. “I’ll create one for you.”

“We’re really doing this?” he asks, hesitating.

“Just be yourself,” Connor tells him. “I know you probably fail at written word, but in person, you usually ace being who you are.”

“I’m going to ignore the part where you f*cking insulted me.”

Connor grins. “Why? Those are the best parts.”

Ryke flips him off.

“How about ‘rykef*ckmeadows’ as a username?” Daisy asks, typing into her phone. “Oh wait…that’s already taken too.”

“Seriously?” Ryke says, sounding impressed. He leans over her to check the screen.

“Just do it backwards,” Lo says, “MeadowsRyke. He won’t care.”

“Yeah, that’s fine with me,” Ryke agrees.

“Got it,” Daisy tells us. In the next few minutes, we spout off multiple ideas for Daisy and Lo’s username. And I steal Lo’s phone to type in prospects.

“What’s yours?” Lo asks Connor, forgetting Connor’s verified Twitter account.

“My name, no breaks,” Connor replies.

@ConnorCobalt. It’s not surprising that he was able to snag that username. He had it before he even met us.

Lo peers over my shoulder as I zone in on a Twitter discussion between our fans. “Missed opportunity, Connor,” Lo says with a growing smile.

“What’s that?”

“One of your fans has the username: ConnorCockbalt.” Lo tilts his head at him. “Hate to tell you this, but it’s better than yours, love.”

Connor’s grin envelops his face. “I don’t disagree with you.”

I’m sucked into the Twitter discussion, my eyes glazing over the usernames. My hearts swells at each one.

@lorenhale

@rykemeadows

@ConnorCockbalt

@lilycalloways

@rosescalloway

@runcalloway

@callowaysisters

@lilocalloway

@coballoway

@cobaltscalloway

The people behind them mean something to me the way all fandoms do.

“That’s pretty cool,” Lo whispers in my ear. He’s returned to the screen, peering behind me at the rest of the usernames.

“Yeah,” I say with a bigger smile. “It’s pretty cool.”

“Try lorenhellion,” he breathes. I do, and a green checkmark shows that it’s available. Daisy chooses @daisyonmeadows, a silly pun that’s also a little flirtatious. It suits her.

“So what does us being on social media f*cking mean exactly?” Ryke asks. I think he knows. He just wants someone to say it.

I speak up first. “We can’t try to hide anymore.” I nod resolutely. It’s ironic coming from the girl who used to be a hermit, who shied away from attention and cameras. By using social media, we’re now cementing a future in the public eye.

No takebacks.

But if we’re going to be under a spotlight, I’d much rather do it on my terms than someone else’s. Maybe then we’ll have a fighting chance at protecting Maximoff and Jane as they grow older. We all have a bigger voice now.

No one can steal that from us.





{ 66 }

LOREN HALE



Ryke pops a bagel into a toaster. “Don’t f*cking say it,” he tells me.

I must wear a mocking smile. “I wasn’t going to say anything.” While the girls talk quietly in the living room, we refill coffees in the kitchen.

Connor examines the expiration date on the milk. “I’ll say it.”

“Do it,” I prod.

“Daisy Meadows,” Connor puts it out there. The username she chose stirred old memories for us. We ream Ryke all the time about that possibility. Marrying her. Before, I’d shut him down. Now, it’s fun to watch him roll his eyes. And tell me to f*ck off.

Ryke looks incensed as he waits for his breakfast to cook. “You two are f*cking hilarious.”

“I thought we were more predictable than hilarious,” Connor says easily, trashing the milk. “But I accept both.”

I lean against the stove. “Are you going to name your kids Wild or Pony?”

“Shut the f*ck up,” Ryke says lightly, and he even laughs. “Pony Meadows, really?”

“It’s nature.” I theatrically gasp like Daisy always does. “Nature is amazing.”

“You f*cking suck at mimicking her.”

“Yeah, that was weak.” I watch Connor pour his coffee in a mug. He combs his hand through his wavy hair, flattening some of the thicker strands. “Hey…” My blood ices, and I hesitate to say what’s popped in my head.

But he spins around and sets his deep blue eyes on me. Waiting for me to finish.

I haven’t asked him about the article in a while, the one involving my son. It hasn’t cropped up on the internet. I assumed it was taken care of, but I’d sleep easier hearing it from him. I ask, “Did you and my dad work things out?”