Addicted for Now (Addicted #2)(141)

“Yeah,” Ryke says, nodding again, but he’s more upset than before. “The fact that you believe you can have a real relationship with him f*cking terrifies me, Lo. That’s what kills me. And that’s why I don’t want to go there and watch him try to emotionally manipulate you.”

I break his gaze and stare at the wheel. “I’m not asking you to come with me.” My voice is edged but considerably low. “I can drop you off at your house.”

We sit in uncomfortable silence again. For maybe five minutes, both of us just thinking.

And then Ryke says, “If I go, you think he’ll lay off you?”

“Is that even a question?”

Ryke nods. “All right. Let’s go.”

“Are you sure?” He would do that? He’d go stomach a whole hour or two with our father just so the verbal assaults are redirected his way?

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

I don’t know what I’m feeling. My lungs seem to lift from my chest, and I know what word I want to say. I know what word I can’t.

Thank you.

In this moment, I truly feel like I have a brother. One that’s probably too good for me.





{ 45 }

LOREN HALE



“You don’t drink?” My father is hung up on this one fact about Ryke. Overhead fans circulate cool air on the patio, and I sit in between Ryke and my dad like someone about to referee an arm wrestle.

“Not since high school,” Ryke says. “I overdid it.” He doesn’t mention how he crashed his car into a mailbox.

“And that’s why you’ve deluded Loren into thinking he’s an alcoholic—because you couldn’t handle your liquor?”

The muscles in Ryke’s jaw twitch. “Get to the f*cking point, Jonathan. Who’s the leak?”

My dad leans back in the iron chair, cupping his glass of scotch. “I’ll get to the f*cking point when I feel like it. Maybe I want to have lunch with my two sons first.” He presses a button on his phone. “Carter, make three burgers for us.”

“Any preferences, Mr. Hale?”

“The usual.”

“They’ll be right out.” The line clicks.

“I’m not your son,” Ryke says, even though he does, on occasion, call Jonathan his father when he’s trying to make a point. Like in the car. “My mother took full custody of me, in case you forgot.”

“How old are you?” My dad asks mockingly. “Oh wait, you’re twenty-two. In the eyes of the American judicial system, you’re an adult. And as an adult, you’re not your mother’s property like that Ferrari she bought with my money in her goddamn driveway.”

Ryke rubs his jaw in agitation and looks around the patio like he’s trying to find some excuse to leave, but then his gaze drifts to me and he stops searching for that escape.

We can’t go until we find out the leak. And if that means eating a burger with the devil, then so be it.

My father sets his scotch down and focuses on me. “Have you met your mother yet?”

Shit. I can feel Ryke’s confusion and livid heat permeate in the air. “Not yet, I’ve actually been waiting for Lily to…adjust.”

“You’re going to meet your mother?” Ryke asks, accusation lacing the words.

My father doesn’t cut in, which means he’s curious about our relationship, wondering how close we’ve become these past months.

“Yeah,” I say.

Ryke shakes his head. “How long have you had her name? How’d you find her?” And then realization floods his face, looking between our dad and me. “You two have been speaking this whole time…” But his hate is redirected at Jonathan. “Can’t you leave him alone for one minute?”

“He wanted to know who his mother was. It’s not your place or mine to make that decision for him.” He sips his scotch casually, incensing Ryke more.

“I don’t care about that. I care that you used that information to draw him back in. I care that you push him to drink.”

“Ryke…” I start and then stop, not wanting to defend my father. Not now. “I was going to tell you that I started talking to him.”

“When? When I find you in the hospital bleeding from your stomach because you drank?”

My father groans. “You’re not still taking that ridiculous pill.”

Ryke turns on him. “It’s not a f*cking joke.”

“It is,” my dad says. “You’re making him soft.”

“Yeah, you made sure he was f*cking sharp, didn’t you?”

“Stop, both of you,” I say coldly. “I don’t want to talk about alcohol or Emily.”

“Fine,” my father says and stands to replenish his glass. “What do you do Ryke? Or are you like your mother, gobbling up all my money on furniture and clothes?”

“How about we leave my mother, the woman you f*cking cheated on, out of the conversation as well.”

“Forgive me if I don’t like the bitch,” he says. “I always wanted you two to meet, and because I wanted it, she could barely tolerate the idea. And here you are, closer than ever. It’s as if it was always meant to be.” He grins, as if he set fate into motion.