Addicted After All(173)
Lo’s smile returns. “So do I.” He leans in to kiss me again, but his phone buzzes on the mattress. He frowns at the caller ID, lines creasing his forehead.
“Who is it?” I try to crane my neck and catch a peek.
“The hospital.” Oh. They must have his test results back. It’s only eight p.m., so it’s not too late for them to call. Lo licks his lips and then presses the cell to his ear. “Hello?”
His reaction is like an incoming wave. I know it’ll crash against me. I just wait and wait for it, wondering how strong the impact will be or if the tide will sweep us both. His lips downturn, and his chest stops falling as he holds his breath.
One of his hands stays on the small of my back, even as he says, “I understand. Thanks.” And then he clicks off the phone.
“And?” I ask. But I read his eyes as they rise to me, the sadness behind them. “You can’t donate.”
“My liver isn’t healthy enough. My dad was right.” He rests his head back and lets out a pained laugh. “My dad is going to die, and there’s nothing I can do.” I hug him and he hugs me just as tightly. I wish I could donate. I would, but I had my blood type tested. I’m not even close to being a match.
“I have to text Ryke,” Lo breathes.
“What are you going to say?” Clung together, I watch him use one hand to type a message.
It’s sweet, and tears begin to build with each word that he texts his brother.
Just got the news. I can’t donate. Please don’t feel obligated to do it. I love you no matter what.
He presses send. “There,” he whispers. “It’s over.” He holds me. “You and me and Maximoff, we’re going to make new beginnings.”
I add, “With no sad endings.”
His smile lights up his face. I love that it returned one more time. “No sad endings, love. Those aren’t meant for us.”
Good. I’m ready for a happy one.
{ 61 }
LILY CALLOWAY
“Someone needs to spank him twenty-six times—not me,” I clarify quickly. “I’m not touching Ryke’s butt.” September 19th marks his birthday. We’re all on the back patio, grilling barbecue, while Ryke grumpily slouches in an iron chair next to me.
He’s said four words all day. Two of them were “f*ck” and the other two were “off.” He’s been sullen since Lo received the news from the hospital. A lot weighs on his mind.
“I’ll do it,” Lo offers. He threateningly waves a greasy spatula back and forth. “Turn around, bro.”
Ryke shoots him the middle finger, unamused. Lo scowls at his brother and shakes his head. They’re both frustrated for different reasons.
The cool evening air chills my cheeks, the sun disappeared for the night. I adjust my white fuzzy Wampa cap on my head, and then I tug the flaps of a mini-Wampa cap over Maximoff’s ears. Rose sewed the Star Wars one for Moffy, and his cuteness has now broken all cute scales. He sleeps on my thighs, all bundled in a red Marvel blanket.
Rose has Jane snuggled against her chest, beneath a black fur coat, asleep too. Beside the grill, Connor sips wine, and I sometimes catch him observing his wife and daughter with this reverent smile, like he treasures this moment and them.
Daisy wags her brows. “I can spank Ryke later.” In one swift sentence, she deflects the attention off of Ryke’s moodiness. Since they’ve been together for a little under a year, the comment is not as awkward as it otherwise could be. She sits behind Ryke, on the table, running her fingers through his thick hair. He has one hand on her leg that drapes over his chest.
The only time he looks like he’s semi-enjoying himself is when Daisy distracts him. I’ve seen her lean over and he’ll grip the back of her neck for an upside-down kiss. Five minutes ago, I even tweeted a picture of that kiss (with Daisy’s approval) with the caption: #Raisy is alive!
I’m forever waiting for it to trend.
Connor wears a million-dollar grin as he says, “If there’s not a bruise, you’re not hitting him hard enough.”
Lo feigns surprise. “You like bruises? Jesus Christ, love. I don’t even know you anymore.” And then he cocks his head at Rose. “What about you, Mrs. Cobalt? Did you know this?”
Rose’s yellow-green eyes pierce him, throwing a thousand daggers his way, and then she whips her head to me. I stay strong against the fire inside her gaze. “Tell Loren that I think his jokes are subpar and wouldn’t make a clown laugh.”