Addicted After All(90)

“Lo,” she whispers like we have to do something.

“All couples fight,” I remind her.

She can’t respond because Ryke’s voice grows louder. “That’s not what this is about! And you f*cking know it!” I’ve been on the receiving end of Ryke’s aggressive “tough-love” behavior, and it’s not always fun. Daisy’s hard to communicate with though, so I have no clue who’s in the right or the wrong here.

“That sounds bad,” Lily breathes, and with my hand on her wrist, I feel her pulse racing. Her sex addiction has harmed Daisy’s life in significant, irreversible ways, and Lily is holding onto this one good thing that Daisy has.

While I love my brother, Daisy can exist without him and still function and find happiness. They’re not us—too codependent—and I thank God, Fate, whatever powers that be, for that.

“Shhh,” Rose says, listening again.

We all quiet to the sound of a violent banging, from a body into a piece of furniture. I freeze and hear the proceeding sounds: a high-pitched cry from Daisy. “Ahhhhh! Ryke, Ryke!”

Shit. I internally cringe at her sex noises.

And then a deep grunt filters through the door. Both Lily and Rose back up from the wood like it electrocuted them.

I give Lily a look like does that really sound bad? To me, yeah, it’s not what I’d want to fall asleep to, but it’s better than yelling.

Lily is beaming, and she pumps two fists in the air and does a short victory circle in the middle of the hall. When she realizes that she’s doing this for real and not in her head, she flushes bright. “Oh…”

I tug on her baggy tee and pull her into my chest, holding her tightly. Her green eyes are big and round and gaze up at me with longing and light.

There’s something about Lily that makes all the terrible parts of me seem irrelevant. That makes a bad day momentary and a good one infinite.

It’s love like this that’s worth living for.





{ 26 }

LILY CALLOWAY



“Lily! We’re about to start!” Rose’s voice sounds down the first floor hallway.

“Two minutes!” I shout back, focusing on the piles of clean clothes. The laundry room might be as big as Rose’s old walk-in-closet, but I still have to separate my sisters’ shirts and panties. Rose, Daisy, and I usually throw in our clothes together and let the guys fend for themselves.

I’ve never done my laundry with Lo, even when we were fake dating and sharing an apartment. It’s not that it was too intimate. It’s that we were both too lazy to harass the other person for their hamper and any other dirty clothes lying around.

I am one-hundred percent certain that Connor does his own laundry and he’ll even wash Lo’s on occasion. I assume that Ryke does his own too, but I’ve never seen him even pass this room, let alone venture inside.

I sit on the cold linoleum floor and fold panties, something I didn’t know had to be done. When I returned Rose’s undies to her all crumpled next to her neatly folded blouses, she gave me a serious stink-eye. How was I supposed to know you fold underwear? Don’t they naturally unwrinkle when you put them on?

Rose was not buying my argument. So here I am, taking my time to separate our pajamas and panties and (unenthusiastically) folding them.

I set aside Daisy’s “day of the week” cotton underwear and focus on the large pile. I apply the reach-in-and-grab method, never knowing what’ll come next.

When I pull out dark cotton fabric, I expect a pair of Daisy’s PJ shorts to reveal themselves. Instead, I hold a pair of boxer-briefs.

Male underwear.

Dark green.

I know Lo’s underwear, and that is not a Loren Hale color.

I drop them on instinct. They’re either Connor or Ryke’s, but only one of them is rude enough to sneak his clothes into the girl piles.

Ryke.

I just touched Ryke’s underwear! The same fabric that has also touched his penis. Does that mean by process of deduction that I just…

Grossgrossgross. I back away from the mound of clothes like it has turned into a tiny bomb ready to explode at my feet. Do not imagine the underwear on him. I’d rather be skeeved out than aroused, even if Ryke tells me it’s okay to feel the latter. I may be able to look him in the eyes now, but it still feels a little wrong being turned on by anyone but Lo.

“Lily!” Rose calls my name again.