Addicted After All (Addicted #3)(5)

“It’s because you’re pregnant,” Daisy says with a weak smile. “You can’t hold your bladder.”

“No, it was definitely from fear. I’m not that pregnant yet.” Eighteen weeks and the baby bump is just noticeable. I’ve gained maybe five pounds or less, and my doctor wants me to eat more since I’m “underweight.” I think gangly is a nicer word than underweight.

Rose is twenty weeks along and a lot more pregnant looking than me. She has a round bump in her black Calloway Couture dress that molds her body. She’s been designing more maternity kind of clothes—just for herself. Lo called her vain last week, and she swatted him with her sketchbook.

I like that she’s making sure she feels comfortable. That’s important, especially when so many things are changing.

Daisy wipes the last of her tears with her sleeve, her other forearm wrapped in a bright yellow cast. No one was surprised that Costa Rica brought Daisy a bad compound fracture and a dislocated shoulder. When she has free reign of the wild, she goes hard.

I peel off the washcloth from her forehead.

“Thanks, Lily,” she whispers to me.

My heart swells. I recognize that my addiction (and all the nasty media attention it brought) is the origin of her pain. But it’s not guilt that makes me want to be here for Daisy. It’s just purely out of love for my sister.

“Lily, your foot,” Rose says with a scrunched face.

I glance down. Lucky Lucky Lavender is spilt all over my toes, and my left nails are half painted.

Daisy says, “I’ll redo them.”

Rose fans herself. “You won’t have time. The minute Ryke barrels in here, he’ll want to hold you.” She rolls her eyes, but she adds, “It’s sort of cute.”

I picture that embrace leading to other sensual acts. But I don’t think about it too hard. I squirm a little, clenching my thighs. “At least you’ll probably get laid tonight,” I say to Daisy and nudge her hip. That would be a definite perk in my book. But not by Ryke Meadows. With Lo. Separately. I nod resolutely in my mind and avoid a dark red blush.

“I’m on my period,” Daisy says, her cheeks still pale. “So that’s out.”

We’re all quiet for a second, and I can’t hold it in. “Just have sex in the shower.” I’m surprising myself, more open than usual. Maybe all the sex talks I have with Ryke are subconsciously helping a little bit. I can share some tips without needing a desk to hide under.

“We’ve never done it like that. It’d be weird,” she says.

My brows crinkle. “You’ve never done it in the shower?” Wait. I hold up my hands. “Ryke says he’s done it in the woods before. But he’s never done it in there?” I point at the glass doors of their giant shower with three different nozzles and spigots, plus fancy cobblestone wall-tiles.

Rose looks fascinated by this talk, her back straightened and eyes alert.

“We’ve done it there, just not on my period.” Daisy isn’t shy about her love life with Ryke, which I really like. It makes it easier talking to her about Lo. “Isn’t it gross?” she asks.

“It’s worth it…” I trail off. “Though I may not be the best source. I’ve been known to rank sex above food.”

Daisy laughs softly. I’m glad I can joke about my addiction now. I even smile.

“How about a sleepover in the guest room?” Rose asks Daisy. “We’ll redo Lily’s toenails and sleep in the king-sized bed.”

“I’ll kick you,” Daisy suddenly says. “If we sleep in the same bed, I mean. I move a lot and could kick you in the womb or something and then you’ll both miscarry because of me.” She inhales sharply.

“Then you’re doing me a favor.”

“Rose!” I shout.

She rolls her eyes again, regret flashing in them. She’s not filtering anything lately. “It’s hot in here.” She fans herself some more, sweat beading her forehead.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Daisy suggests.

“I’ll sit down after we’ve plotted our retaliation and our plans tonight. They’re more important.” She likes to pretend her pregnancy has no side effects on her, even though she was the one hit with bad morning sickness. I thankfully bypassed that.

“I vote sleepover and TPing.” I raise my hand in the air just as hurried footsteps sound and the door whooshes open.





{ 3 }

LILY CALLOWAY



Ryke bounds into his bathroom first, followed quickly by Lo and then Connor. As they stand towering above us, a new tension strains the air, and I think we all feel our dynamic shifting just a bit. It used to be Daisy and Ryke on the outside of the inner circle.

Now it’s guys versus girls.

We scrutinize them while they do the same to us, measuring our wellbeing from afar. I notice the red marks on Lo’s shoulder and ribs, splashed with blue and orange paint. Ryke has similar paintball imprints. It’s safe to assume they were shot. My stomach tosses. They were shot. That phrase—no. I don’t want to picture anything like that happening.

“I hope those guys look ten million times worse than the two of you,” Rose says, slicing through the tension.

“They’re teenagers,” Lo says flatly. They must’ve let them go.