Addicted After All(73)

Sam doesn’t know us.

Not really.

His allegiance is blind, based on relationships set out in paper and ink. Not in emotions or blood. Maybe that’s why it’s harder for him.

“What were they saying in Spanish?” Greg asks, looking between Ryke and Connor.

Everyone goes quiet, and my ribs flame. I’m rigid and unmoving.

“Someone speak,” my dad cuts in, his fingers tightening around his glass.

“It was about Lily,” I let out, though I can’t say anything more than that.

The room grows silent, and I crane my neck over my shoulder. Lily clutches the armrest of the couch and produces a weak smile for me. Lil.

She knew it was about her. This whole time.

She knew.

The bottom of my stomach drops and then constricts.

“I have a question,” Greg chimes in again. I expect him to ask specifically what the hecklers said, but his gaze sets on Connor. “Where was Rose if you were in the fight? She doesn’t have a bodyguard.” I’m selfishly thankful that he’s redirected the conversation onto someone else.

“I trusted my wife,” Connor says easily. “I had to make a choice, and I made it.”

My father takes a swig of his drink, and I hone in on the liquid again. “At least we all know where your priorities lie.”

Connor stays impassive at the insult. “I’m not a knight in shining armor, and I’ve never insinuated myself to be one. I leave that to the men who like to straddle horses and prance around in meadows.”

Ryke actually laughs beside me, knowing it was a lighthearted shot at him.

I smile too. God, how the hell am I smiling right now? It fades pretty fast.

“You’re spineless,” my father says into his next gulp. My face contorts in a grimace.

“If I’m spineless, then every man in comparison is an annelid.”

My father’s brows shoot up. “An anus?”

Rose cuts in, “A worm.”

Connor is grinning, loving that his wife understood him. “Jonathan,” he says easily, “the fact that Rose is completely unharmed, sitting right there”—he gestures to Rose behind him—“suggests that I chose right and you’re wrong. So please, continue to argue against evidence.”

Greg interjects before my dad can speak, “The real issue here is the fact that Garth and Mikey had to step away from Daisy and Lily to protect you three.” He motions to Ryke, me, and Connor. And I suddenly realize what this interrogation has been about all along.

“No,” Ryke snaps.

“Yes,” our dad says, “you’re all getting bodyguards. Maybe then they’ll protect you from going to jail.” Fine with me.

“That’s a great idea,” Rose says, raising her chin, her palms flat on her knees. “It was imbalanced to place bodyguards with all the girls and not the guys to begin with.”

“You’re getting one too,” Greg tells his daughter.

Rose’s eyes bore holes in his forehead. “No. I don’t need one. I’ve proven that.”

“Like you said, hun,” Connor tells her, “it’s an evening of power.” He’s happy about this—I see it in his deep blue eyes. He’s wanted Rose to have a bodyguard since we became immersed in the media.

Ryke is pissed. “I don’t want a guy following me.”

“Why?” Greg asks.

Ryke runs a hand through his thick brown hair, an anxious tell. “Because,” he says with a low breath, unable to let out his explanation. Come on, Ryke. Maybe he’s censoring himself so he’s not disrespectful or he’s just having trouble explaining at all.

“That’s not going to cut it.”

“I’m twenty-five-years-old,” Ryke proclaims, “no one in this f*cking room can control the things that I choose to do with my life…” His voice dies off quickly, most likely remembering Hale Co. and what he’s striving towards now, even if it’s the last thing he really wants.

I’m trying to understand why he’s firmly against a bodyguard, and I honestly can’t figure it out.

“You don’t have a job,” Greg starts listing off facts. “After you were thrown in jail, every athletic endorsement deal you had for rock climbing disappeared. You are financially dependent on your trust fund that your father controls.”

Ryke’s face hardens. “Then he takes away my trust fund.”