Addicted After All (Addicted #3)(21)

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

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 little bitty 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 station with the Trailblazer, especially since the Audi is driving strange.

“I think the wheels are f*cking bent,” Ryke says. Daisy turns off 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, transfixed 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 first, 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 tight breath.

He lifts up my sweater and tugs at the band of my leggings to peer down. After pulling at my panties, 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 still inspecting his bumper.

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

My head whips to the side, and I spot my little 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, f*cking look at me.”

“What…” She blinks in a daze, and her arms tremble. It’s like she’s somewhere else entirely, 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 precaution, okay?” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear.

I bite my gums to keep my watery gaze at bay. “What about the meeting 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.





{ 9 }

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 fine,” I say, my voice more edged than I like. My pulse hasn’t slowed. I don’t want to lose him—it’s a realization 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 f*cking exist.

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

Lily sniffs, 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 times.

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

“It’s not your fault,” I say for the fiftieth. 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 continue 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 getting f*cking psych evaluated.” He tried to follow Daisy to her hospital room, but a nurse told him family only and so he was shuffled to ours.