Addicted for Now (Addicted #2)(140)

“Yeah,” he says. “I found the leak.”

“How?”

“The tabloid who first reported the news finally broke and gave us their source. It took five million to loosen their lips and uncover this bullshit.” He doesn’t add you owe me every penny. Even so, I feel like I do.

“Who is it?” I ask, my hands clutching the steering wheel so tightly.

He doesn’t say anything.

“Dad?!” I shout. A car honks, and I realize I swerved into his lane and cut off a pick-up truck.

“Keep your eyes on the f*cking road,” Ryke chastises. “Or pull over and I’ll drive.” No, he’ll take us the other direction. And right now, I’m too wired to go climb a mountain

“Is Ryke with you?” my dad asks roughly.

“We’re on our way,” I tell him, ignoring how Ryke is searing a death glare into the phone.

“No, we f*cking aren’t,” Ryke refutes.

“You both should come,” he tells us. “This is important, and I don’t want to discuss it over the phone.” He hangs up.

I flick on my blinker and drive along a side street, off the highway.

“What the f*ck are you doing?” Ryke asks.

“He knows who the leak is,” I say like he’s an idiot. “What the f*ck are you doing? We’ve spent months trying to track down this *.”

Ryke stares at the road with a hard gaze. “Maybe you should drop me off somewhere.”

I frown. “What? Where?” What’s wrong with him?

“Like anywhere but there.”

And then I realize that Ryke hasn’t come into contact with my father since the Christmas Charity Gala. Before rehab. Before everything.

A brutal silence strings though the car. And then I say softly, “Are you scared of him?”

“I can’t stand to look at his face.”

“What did he personally do to you?” I ask.

“I hated him because my mother did,” Ryke says briefly, but I can tell his mind is reeling, so I’m not surprised when he divulges more. “…when I was older, I tried to look at him differently, but she painted a portrait of a monster. So when I stare at his face, that’s all I f*cking see.”

His words sink in, and I don’t have anything to say. I can’t change the way he pictures Jonathan Hale. That damage is too deep-seated.

“I tried to forget about him,” Ryke says, staring out the window. “I tried to act like I just didn’t have a dad. And then…” He shakes his head.

“What?” I prod.

“…and then I met you. And all that hate just came back ten times stronger than before.”

I hesitate before I ask. I fear his answer. “Why?” This is where he’ll say I’m just like my father. I’m the monster of the story. The thing to be hated.

“You defend him,” Ryke tells me. “He says some pretty f*cking horrible things right to your face, and you just stand there and take it or you walk away. And then the next day, you’ll talk about Jonathan like he’s a f*cking savior.” I can’t feel that great burst of relief when he doesn’t compare me to him. I just feel like shit.

I grit my teeth. “What am I supposed to do? Punch him? I wasn’t into the whole let me beat the hell out of my father tragedy growing up. Sorry.”

“You’re right,” Ryke says, surprising me. “You were stuck in that house, with that f*cking *. But right now, you have the option to leave him. And you’re going back.”

“He’s not all bad.”

“And there you go, sticking up for him again.”

“He’s my father.”

“He’s our father,” Ryke retorts.

I hit the wheel with my hand, nervous and pissed and so fueled right now. “I can’t cut him out of my life!” Not because of the money. Not because of the trust fund or the information I need from him. I can’t leave Jonathan Hale because he’s my family. He’s my dad, and before Ryke and Lily, he’s all I f*cking had.

“Pull over for a second.”

“I’m not turning around.”

“Just pull over.”

I drive into a gas station and park the car by the pump. I face Ryke, and my chest rises at the empathy in his eyes. He’s about to drop a bomb on me, but he knows I can take it.

“No one is going to tell you this,” Ryke says. “Everyone says it behind your back, but you’re going to hear it from me, right now.”

I stare at him for a long moment, already hearing his words before he says them. I think I know. I’ve always known.

“Our dad abuses you,” Ryke says, his eyes reddening. “He’s verbally abusive, and he’s f*cked with your head.”

I let this sink in, but I’m so numb to the answer. I just nod. “Yeah, I know.”

Ryke nods a few times too, watching me, trying to gauge my mental state. And maybe he’s reliving the fact that he was the older brother, the one who was handed the better deal of two really shitty ones, not having to be raised by him, not having to endure the onslaught of f*cking grow up! I didn’t raise you to be such an idiot! Why are you crying? Stop. Fucking. Crying.

“Don’t guilt yourself over this,” I tell Ryke. I feel nothing. I should be red in the eyes like him, but I just can’t be. “I know what I’m doing.”