Addicted After All(164)

His eyes redden, and his jaw hardens. I’m saying the wrong things. Christ. What do I say? Ryke’s not me. He doesn’t think like me. He never has. It’s why we’ve had too many fights. Why it took years to build our relationship. We’re always on separate pages. Different chapters of the same story.

I waver uneasily, wondering if I should bend down to comfort him. Or stay upright, towering above his frame. I end up frozen in place. “Ryke…” I choke out his name.

His nose flares, and he lets out a heavy breath. His hands fall to his sides, and he finally raises his head. Tears surface that he couldn’t bury. “He told us that he was dying,” he says, his voice trembling, “and the first thing I felt was relief.”

I watch water roll down his cheeks.

“That’s sick,” he breathes. “Really f*cking sick.” He gestures to me. “You’re the one who should be relieved. You’re the one he’s abused. You’re the one who had to live with him.” His throat bobs. “But you didn’t even hesitate to help him, even when he didn’t ask for it.” More than vulnerable, Ryke stares right at me, his chin quaking and his features torn up.

I’ve personally seen him like this maybe twice before. When he learned his mom betrayed him, outing Lily’s sex addiction to the public. And then in Utah. When we fought each other with our fists. Almost a whole year ago.

And then he says, “You always think you’re the bad guy, Lo. But you’re not.” His head hangs. “You’re f*cking not.” He buries his face in his bent knees again.

This time, my joints work, and I sit beside my brother. I wrap my arm around his tense shoulder that shudders with his body.

“I know him better than you,” I defend. “That’s why I want to help him.”

Ryke stays quiet for a minute. “What if you can’t, Lo?” he asks in a whisper. “What happens then?”

The bottom of my stomach nearly drops. I don’t want to think about it.

“Because you know there’s only one other option.” Ryke stares at his calloused hands, chalk residue on his palm. “And I don’t know if I can make the same choice as you.”

I pinch my wet eyes and squeeze his shoulder like it’s okay. There’s a good chance he shares the same blood type as me and my father. But I won’t ask Ryke to be our dad’s donor. That’s too much. He’s already done enough.

“It’s okay,” I say the words aloud.

“It won’t be,” Ryke refutes, choking on a sob. “You and I f*cking know it won’t be. Because in the back of your mind, every day when you have to f*cking look at me, you’ll be thinking the same thing.”

“No,” I tell him, shaking my head adamantly. No, I won’t.

“You’ll think I killed him,” he finishes. He swallows hard again. “And here I thought my relationship with Daisy would ruin you and me.”

“Stop,” I snap, shaking him a bit. My fingers dig into his shoulder. And I feel his tears fall on my hand. “It’s not going to happen, Ryke.” It’s not going to happen.

But somewhere in his mind, he’s doubting everything. “Yeah…we’ll see.”





{ 56 }

LILY CALLOWAY



For the tenth time Lo checks his cellphone, his mind far, far away from the comics that line his desk. I’ve accompanied him to the Halway Comics office above Superheroes & Scones. He asked me to.

I can tell that he yearns for the quick fix, even if it’s the very thing destroying his dad.

Maximoff sleeps in his carrier on the couch, and I set down an old New Mutants comic and rise from the blue sofa. Careful not to wake him.

“When did they say they’d call?” I ask Lo, resting my butt on his desk.

“Hm?” His brows knot as he stares at the indie comic. He’s been on the same page for ten minutes. Lo is a slow reader but not that slow.

“The hospital,” I clarify, nudging his arm with my finger. “When are they supposed to call?” He was tested this morning. To see if he’d be eligible for the liver donation. The surgery frightens me, but I’d support Lo no matter what. His emotional distress would be harder to watch than any recovery from the transplant.

“Today or tomorrow.” He pushes his rolling chair away from the desk and swivels to me. With one hand, he reaches out and clutches my hip. I smile as he guides me to his lap. I find myself straddling him.