Addicted After All (Addicted #3)(31)

It sounds easier finding that place than it really is.

I bring her downstairs with me, carrying her in a front-piggyback. When we enter the living room, the fireplace is lit, and outside the fogged windows, snow falls. The air is strained, especially as Ryke and my father stay standing while Daisy fidgets on the suede loveseat, crossing and uncrossing her long legs.

I sit on the couch with Lily, and my father scrutinizes her for too many seconds.

“You could have called,” I tell him, “or texted me.” None of us needed a spontaneous meeting with him. Before, we had all worked up to it.

“But I didn’t. Shit happens every day that you can’t prepare for, Loren,” he says, like I’m not familiar with that.

I’ve walked through life with a blindfold, hoping I didn’t crash into things, sometimes praying that I did. Preparation has never been my thing. My life is a “toss this dart at me” kind of random. Let’s see which body part it pierces.

My dad disinterestedly inspects hardbacks on a tall wooden shelf, all belonging to Rose and Connor. “Think of this as a life lesson,” he says.

My jaw tics in irritation. “Like I need any more of those.”

I wait for the, don’t be a little shit.

He buries his fists in the pockets of his black slacks, no whiskey in hand. And he faces the couch. “You’re probably right.” No insult for me. I lean back in surprise. He’s been sober for almost four months. It still seems like a dream, but these moments make it more real.

I rub Lily’s shoulders, but she squeezes her thighs around my waist. I’d rather not move her off my lap, but I’m afraid she’s going to grind on me. I scoot her onto the cushion, and I toss a purple blanket over her. She adjusts so her heel digs into the spot between her legs.

Christ, Lil.

My dad’s gaze drifts over to the foyer. “This is just between the four of us.”

“I’ve never fought with you about anything,” Connor says easily, Rose by his side. “Let’s not change that.” It sounds like a threat.

I’ve never seen anyone really hold the same power in a room as my father. Lily’s dad is submissive towards Jonathan. Soft, is what my dad calls him. And Connor has always played their game with a fake smile and a firm handshake.

This is different.

My father sizes him up, a literal once-over from head to toe.

Ryke says, “Let them f*cking stay.”

Rose has already settled in a Queen Anne chair next to me, crossing her ankles, Connor standing beside the armrest.

My dad keeps his attention on Connor. “I understand why you like Ryke. What’d you call him the other day? Your attack dog.”

Ryke flips Connor off without meeting his eyes, but it’s in jest. He’s said that plenty of times to his face.

“I like him all the same,” Connor says.

“But what’s Loren to you?” my dad asks. He thinks he’s poking at a weak spot of Connor’s, but he’s doing a poor job. He can’t break the guy. He’s built of titanium or some sort of indestructible alien material. Like Superman.

I open my mouth to tell my dad to leave him alone.

But he continues, “Lo’s a college dropout, has failed at every athletic sport he’s ever tried.” My blood runs cold, and Lily suddenly clutches my hand, trying to comfort me. I can’t move. “He’s not smart or strong. Frankly, he’s a goddamn liability. So what use is he to you?” Through all these statements, I want to believe my dad is trying to protect me from Connor. Right? Like Ryke once did.

Connor is a user, he’s saying.

My brows knot. Yeah, I know this about Connor.

“He’s my best friend,” Connor says without a beat. “I enjoy his company.”

“Do you?” My dad glares, one that could shrivel a man.

Connor never backs down. “I know what you’re implying, and you should stop.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Yes,” Connor says, pokerfaced. Honestly, it’s terrifying—not being able to see his emotions.

“I’m not here to ruin you, Connor, but if you stand in my way, I will. Unlike you, I’m a man with very little to lose.”

“Jonathan,” Rose suddenly says, her eyes fiery. And it’s like my dad just recognizes her sitting right there. “You bring my husband down, you bring me down. We’re staying right here.” She might as well have said: we’re in the inner f*cking circle, bitch. No one is pushing us out.

My dad grinds his teeth in distaste.

Connor won this.

Rose is related to Greg Calloway. Greg is Jonathan’s best friend. As a result, he’d never hurt Rose.

His eyes flicker up to Connor. “You aligned yourself f*cking well. If I had a glass of bourbon, I’d cheers to you.”

“I’m glad you don’t,” Connor says. I wait for him to add a smartass response, but he holds back this time. Or maybe it’s the literal truth. I’ll never know. With Connor, it’s hard to discern these things unless you’re in his head.

Ryke stays standing with Connor, and my dad addresses the entire room, though his gaze lands on me and Lil the most. He starts pacing in front of the fireplace. His hands now on his hips. Then on the back of his neck. He rubs his fingers together like he’s missing his glass of liquor.