Addicted After All(74)

I shake my head at my brother. Losing his financial security over a bodyguard—it’s not worth it.

“And what about my daughter?” Greg plays that card, like he has the ability to remove Daisy from Ryke’s life. It’s f*cked up.

“Dad,” Daisy says with wide eyes, sitting next to Lily.

Ryke tenses considerably. And in a controlled voice, he says, “I don’t want a f*cking bodyguard speeding after me on a motorcycle, accompanying me to every rock face I climb.” His chest rises strongly and he points at the ground. “I don’t want a f*cking bodyguard shoving me away from Daisy. And I don’t want one trying to restrain me from protecting my little brother.” He feels threatened by someone who doesn’t even exist yet.

“Let’s compromise,” Greg says. “You’ll have a bodyguard when you’re in public with my daughters. Fair enough?”

Ryke struggles to accept this.

I place my hand on his shoulder and whisper to him, “It’s a good offer.”

Ryke takes a deep breath, and after a long second, he nods tensely in agreement.

“We need to have a talk about your future,” Greg says to Ryke. I’ve heard those words too many times, from him and from Jonathan. It’s weird having them directed at someone else. “I need you to do something for me involving Fizzle, but if you keep telling me that you’re unwilling to help, then maybe you don’t love my daughter like you say you do.”

Ryke lets out a weak laugh, his eyes reddening. “I love your daughter like the sun, and I could say and do a thousand things, and you’d never accept me.”

“You haven’t even done one thing,” Greg says with the raise of his brows. “I’m asking for one. This is easy. You’ll hear me out after everyone goes to bed, okay?”

Daisy starts, “Dad, don’t—”

“Dais, it’s fine,” Ryke says, squashing an argument easily. I wouldn’t want to cause a rift between Lily and her father, and I know Ryke feels the same. He nods to Greg again. “I’ll hear you out.”

My dad has one-fourth of his drink left. He’s fixated on it—or maybe I am. He’s almost going to finish it off, and I can’t keep speculating. On impulse, I step forward and steal the glass from him.

He cocks his head at me like really, son?

I sniff the liquid, just smelling lime, but I see carbonation bubbles. Gin and tonic?

And then Jonathan Hale, with his graying sideburns, narrows his deadly eyes and gives me a single dark look: drink it, son. If you don’t f*cking trust me.

I go cold, put the rim of the glass to my lips—

“Lo!” Ryke yells, his hand clamping on my shoulder, about to tear the glass from me.

It’s too late. The liquid slides down, and my taste buds catch all the ingredients. Ryke rips the drink from my hands.

“Are you f*cking kidding me?!” he yells at our dad. Not at me. Thinking he just broke his sobriety and mine too.

“It’s just carbonated water and lime,” I tell Ryke the truth, a pang of guilt hitting me. My dad wouldn’t sneak around. If he was drinking again, he’d flaunt it. I shouldn’t have questioned him in the first place.

Ryke isn’t convinced. He takes a swig of the drink, and after he tastes the water, his muscles start to relax.

Our dad sighs at Ryke, “I understand why you don’t trust me, son, but you should at least trust your brother. He wouldn’t lie to you.”

“My track record isn’t good,” I say under my breath and then rub my neck.

The silence stretches in the room—like I reminded everyone how many times I’ve f*cked up. It’s not like I can showcase my triumphs. They’re hidden behind every mistake.

A redheaded girl abruptly climbs the stairs into the yacht’s living room, adding to the strain. She pinches the stem of a wine glass, her glossy hair draped across her shoulder in curls, wearing a silk green dress that’s practically lingerie.

I tug at the collar of my shirt, my stomach tossing.

She’s twenty-six.

And my father’s date.

Seeing her sours my body, especially as she struts over to my dad and presses her lips against his. I turn my head the same time that Ryke does.

I spent my entire life watching women of all ages parade in and out of my house. Never once did he invite them for an extra night. He attended every party stag. No matter if I was five or fifteen or twenty. He was single in public. At night, he did what he wanted.