Addicted After All (Addicted #3)(39)

Rose fans herself with her magazine, but Poppy beats her to the answer. “Dad learned that Ryke and Daisy were sharing a cabin. He said they weren’t married or engaged, and he wanted them separated.”

I frown. “Wait…” I shake my head. “That doesn’t make sense. They’ve let Lo and me share a cabin since we were teenagers.”

Rose tilts her head at me like I need to tap into my brain.

Oh. “It’s Lo,” I realize. He’s always the exception. Well, and Connor was too. Poppy’s husband, Samuel Stokes, never got away with anything at first. He had to earn his way into my dad’s good graces, and apparently Ryke does too.

“Ryke was angry,” Poppy provides more details.

“He was pissed,” Rose clarifies. I imagine his blood vessels ready to pop, his veins protruding in his biceps and forearms.

“Doesn’t Dad know that you two live together?” I ask Daisy.

She tightens the straps of her neon green bikini and shakes her head. “No. He assumed we were staying in different rooms, like during Princesses of Philly.”

Oh my God. My eyes are like saucers. This is really bad then. I picture my docile father growing horns towards Ryke. He probably thinks Ryke “deflowered” his youngest daughter. Not…exactly the case. “Did Ryke back down?”

“He tried as much as he could,” Daisy says. “But Dad was basically attacking him.”

The boat sways a bit, and Rose loses focus on the conversation, her skin paling. She shuts her eyes for a long, unsteady moment. It’s hard to tell when Rose is sick, but she’s been making frequent trips to the restroom. Her morning sickness is combating her seasickness in a not-so-nice way.

“This boat…” Rose says, drawing out her proclamation. “…is killing me. I am going to slaughter it by the end of this vacation. And if anyone has anything negative…or rational to say against me, I will push you overboard.”

I’m not even going to tempt it.

Poppy reverts to the subject at hand. “I thought Ryke did a great job sticking up for himself and Daisy. He told Dad what everyone else wanted to say.” I’m guessing that bit about Daisy being grown up. “With probably too many curse words,” Poppy adds. “But Dad started yelling first.”

My mouth drops. “What…?”

“He was really mad,” Daisy reminds me.

“Yeah but…” That’s crazy. I try to recall a single time where my dad raised his voice.

Off my confusion and shock, Poppy says, “He used to get so worked up over Sam that he’d start yelling. He’s just worried about guys taking advantage of us.”

Oh. My relationship with my dad is so dissimilar from my sisters’. He treated me more like his son than his daughter, letting me do what I pleased since he trusted Lo so much. I don’t think he ever felt like he had to protect me like he does them.

My dad and I communicate in head nods, shoulder shrugs, and brief smiles.

Since my sex addiction, it took him a while to acknowledge me again. By not telling him my problems, I somehow broke our silent bond, something I didn’t even really see until my therapist pointed it out. But we’re okay now.

The smiles are back. The shoulder shrugs and shoulder pats happen more often. We haven’t had any sort of emotional heart-to-heart, but I’m not looking for one.

“We’re trying not to be disrespectful,” Daisy explains her situation with Ryke. “It’s really fine if we stay in separate rooms.”

It’s her birthday. She deserves the orgasm that I had last night. That and more. I wish I could trade with her, but it’s not looking possible.

Color returning to her cheeks, Rose eyes our oldest sister as she sips the mojito. “I hate you,” Rose tells her, her glower drilling holes all over Poppy.

Poppy wipes her mouth with a napkin. “I remember you drinking margaritas while I was pregnant with Maria. So now you know how it feels.”

Rose purses her lips, glaring now at the minty drink. “I bet it tastes horrible.”

“It could be better,” Poppy says nicely.

“I like you a little more.”

While they talk, I spot a magazine on a rack by the wall, a shirtless Zac Efron on the cover. I throb again, an ache that grows at the sight of two-dimensional abs. When did the star of High School Musical look like that? Jeez.

I swallow hard, cursing my body. I had to even stop watching Teen Wolf this season for this very reason.

It makes me nervous. Lo tried to explain to me that the world isn’t a porn-filled playground. I don’t need to be frightened of my surroundings, even if everything turns me on. I just need to take deep breaths…I blow one out…and train my mind on different things, avoiding carnal fixations.

My mantra this trip: I refuse to act on my arousal. Unless it’s from Loren f*cking Hale.

I nod resolutely.

Now I must disappear and hide this red flush. “I’m heading out,” I tell my sisters. All lathered in sunscreen, I exit through sliding glass doors and step onto the deck that overlooks the yacht’s pool.

I stretch my arms, the afternoon rays beating down on my pale shoulders. Looking at the deck below, I skim the row of lounge chairs absentmindedly and then land on a supreme eight-pack, with long masculine legs.