Hothouse Flower (Addicted #4)(109)

His nose flares again, holding back more emotion. “I thought you knew about me when you were fifteen.”

“I told you that I met him at a country club every week. I knew his name. I knew he was my father. He was a f*cking socialite, so I was smart enough to figure out that his son was my brother. They just didn’t tell me until I was fifteen.” I shake with this rage that throttles my bones. It’s not at Lo. It’s at the past, at everything that happened.

I wish I could reverse time and just wipe it all away. But it’s here, and it f*cking sucks. I lift my body off of his, but I can’t stand. Too emotionally exhausted, I sink to my knees, drained and weak. My face throbs, positive that he’s given me more than a couple of bruises.

He doesn’t even sit up, his eyes burning into the sky.

“I hold grudges,” I confess. “But I think you do too, Lo.” I look at him and his jaw clenches tightly. He’s never let me off the hook, never forgiven me for hating our dad and not seeking him out sooner.

“I just wish you could love me more than you hate him,” Lo tells me. It’s the most honest thing he’s ever said. He turns his head and looks at me, eyes filled with tears. “Is that even f*cking possible?”

My whole body aches. I’ve spent so many years regretting every evil thought I had towards Lo, every curse I f*cking wished upon him, every piece of hate that darkened my soul. I know where he comes from now. A house where a mother never loved him. Where a father pushed him too hard. No support to pick him up after he f*cking fell.

By not coming forward about the molestation rumors, I’m choosing to hate Jonathan over defending my brother. I never thought that was the case. I always thought that keeping quiet meant that I finally, finally stopped protecting a monster, stopped helping him cover his tracks.

I’m just like my mother.

I’m turning into her, trying to hurt Jonathan every way I can, and in the end, the people I care about are hit in the crossfire.

All this f*cking time…Samantha Calloway had been right. She accused me of the same thing, back in Daisy’s room. And I refused to hear her out. To believe her. I’m becoming someone I don’t want to be, and I thought I was running far away from that person.

I exhale, my chest tight. “I love you, you know that,” I tell him, patting his leg.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know, Lo,” I say. “I want to. I want to so f*cking badly, but it’s not as easy as wishing for that kind of peace. I hate him for things he did to me, for the things he does to you.”

Lo shakes his head and sits up. He wipes his face with his shirt and his eyes turn cold again. “Jesus Christ,” he laughs a bitter f*cking laugh. “You don’t get it. I deserved every word he said to me. You didn’t know me in prep school, Ryke. I was a f*cking shit. I was terrible.”

I glower. “Don’t ever f*cking tell me that you deserved it. No one deserves to be beat down every f*cking day.”

He takes deep breaths, his muscles starting to relax. He looks up at me and says, “He’s never touched me.”

He knows that’s not what this is about. I don’t want to do this with him. We argue about this all the time. But I have to get it through his thick f*cking skull. I lean forward and grab his face between both my hands. “Stop defending him. Not to me, okay?”

There are some things we will never agree on. No matter how hard he f*cking tries to convince me. No matter how many times we end up on the ground.

He pulls away and I pull back, tension breaking between us. Silence thickens for a moment, and I think maybe he’s waiting for me to apologize or maybe trying to work himself up to it. But then he points to my face.

“That bruise right there, that’s for f*cking my girlfriend’s little sister by the way.”

My stomach churns. What?





< 49 >

RYKE MEADOWS



Lo’s face sharpens again, but he flashes a half-smile. “Tabloids caught you making out just outside of Devils Tower.” He grabs his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through it. Then he chucks the cell at me. “The photograph is on every gossip site.” I avoid the tabloids, so I’m not surprised that I missed it. Just that it exists at all.

I stare at the picture with hard eyes.

Daisy is on my shoulders. We were putting a hammock up in the trees, and she tightened the straps on the last trunk. But the picture froze us in time: Her head dipped down, her lips against mine, my hand on her neck, my fingers stained with purple and pink dye. Her hair still wet.

She’s smiling as she kisses me, which pulls her long, deep reddened scar.

Her f*cking scar—it’s all over the news. Her parents are going to find out about her face from a f*cking tabloid. Dammit! My jaw locks and I throw the phone back to Lo with more aggression than I intended.

“Pissed you got caught?”

I don’t say word. I can’t speak without yelling.

“Please talk to me,” Lo snaps, “because I need to understand what’s going on or I may just punch you again.”

I shake my head, my voice deep and low. “It just happened.”

“It just happened?” Lo shakes his head, as though I always use that excuse. I’m sure I have before. “That’s a really shitty thing to tell me.” The red dirt coats our bodies and has turned Lo’s hair a shade lighter. “You f*ck Lily’s little sister, and you say, oh it just f*cking happened? What’d you fall on her? Did you add her to your tally of girls? Is it a one-night stand kind of thing?”