Hothouse Flower (Addicted #4)(115)

I stand in front of the wooden benches and picnic tables, so I turn my head to see Lily awakening from all the commotion.

“Did he fall?” she asks in alarm, her eyes snapping open.

“No, love. He’s okay.”

She exhales loudly. “Okay, good.”

A lump lodges in my throat. I’m not the only one concerned today.

The cameramen start flashing pictures at me, catching my face. When we left Nevada, word circulated about Ryke’s solo climb. Apparently he had to register with the state parks, and those documents leaked to the press.

I think Ryke would be more nervous about the media being so close to us today if it wasn’t for our team of security drawing a line between the cameras and our benches. So at least we can pretend to ignore them. Mikey is here, shaking his head at a couple of the guys who shout questions out to me.

It’s still early in the morning, so we expect a lot more people to show up, probably some fans too.

My father also sent a note with Mikey:

We need to talk about Ryke.

Love, Dad

Having my parents find out about the relationship from a tabloid was not ideal, but it was the risk we both chose to take.

And I only received one text from my mom, not even a phone call.

I’m interviewing the best plastic surgeons in the city. You’ll be okay. – Mom

I asked Connor to send out a tweet (he’s the only one with a Twitter account) to tell people what happened. The rumors from the leaked photograph were horrendous. They ranged from a knife fight to rape. And then both.

Connor’s tweet set everyone straight.

@ConnorCobalt: Daisy is fine. Her scar is from the Paris Rugby riot. Thanks for all the well wishes.

And of course he had to add a second tweet.

@ConnorCobalt: Apparently, I need to clarify for some of you. No. She was not raped afterwards.

He told me that the second tweet was for the media sites that love to stir stories out of nothing. I appreciated it, especially since it meant that I didn’t have to go on any talk shows or phone into a radio to explain the situation.

When the park ranger leaves, Ryke glances back at us, and he actually walks over. My heart rises to my throat, but his eyes meet mine for a brief second or two before they pin on everyone behind me. And then he just treks right on past.

Okay…

“You realize how stupid this is, right?” Lo asks him, forearms on his knees, hands clasped. He has his feet on the picnic table bench like Lily.

Ryke just smiles. “I love you too.”

And then surprisingly Lo rises off the table and hops down. He hugs Ryke and pats his back. “Don’t die on me, okay?”

“I don’t plan on it,” Ryke says.

That one fight in Utah—with the red rock and dirt swirling—has cleared the air between them. Whatever bad blood they had between each other was left in that state, and I hope it won’t ever return.

They split apart, and Ryke faces Lily now. She jumps off the picnic table quickly and flings her arms around him. Then she pulls away and presses a sticker on his shirt. “It’s Spider-Man. For good luck.”

“Thanks, Lily.” I can’t see his smile this time, just his back. But I’m sure he’s smiling because Lily’s eyes are flooded with emotion.

I shift my weight from one foot to the other, just watching him go down the line.

Rose and Connor stay seated. My sister has on designer sunglasses even though the sun has yet to rise, and Connor is wearing an expensive suit. They do not fit in. But they don’t care much.

Ryke holds out his hands. “Please, don’t stand up for me.”

“I’ll hug you when you come back down,” Rose tells him in her clipped voice. “It’ll give you something to look forward to.” She swats another invisible fly out of her face.

Ryke nods and looks to Connor. “And you?”

“You don’t need my luck.” His words are velvety smooth, like he’s telling Ryke he has all the confidence in the world in him.

Ryke nods again. “Thanks guys. For being here. See you on the other side.” He starts walking back, and I think he’s going to stop in front of me, for a private moment. But he just keeps on hiking towards the rock face.

I don’t think twice. I sprint after him, taking off. No one calls me back to the tables.

No one reprimands me for following a boy much older than me.

No one says to stop.

I go with freedom in my chest, freedom in my heart. And I block his path with my body, holding my hands out.

Ryke’s dark features brighten as soon as he sees me. His lips rise far beyond an almost-smile. He notices the flower crown still in my clutch, and he steals it from my hand. I watch as he sets it atop my blonde locks, some strands painted with color.

“I was waiting for the sun to chase me,” he breathes, drawing me to his chest. In one swift movement, my lips are on his. The world is spinning. He kisses me like this is the moment he’s envisioned all his life. Like this is heaven on Earth.

For me, it is. A blissful moment before something that could be the end. The rush before the fear. He whispers, “I f*cking love you.”

I smile, my lips tingling. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“I love you more than chocolate cake.”

He kisses my head, and his mouth returns to mine, his tongue sliding sensually, lasting and perfect. Then he flips off the cameras, the click click click in the background like buzzing insects.