Hothouse Flower (Addicted #4)(133)

“That doesn’t matter anymore.” He lets out a long breath and touches his chest. “We’re addicts. You and me.” He motions between them like they share the same favorite color. “Maybe we shouldn’t have kids, but we have the means to raise him or her well.”

“And you have us,” Rose says. She glances at me.

And I nod at my brother. “You have us, Lo. We’re here for both of you.” Rose, Connor and I have this kind of confidence that Lo severely lacks, and we’ll support him one-hundred f*cking percent. I won’t let my brother fall.

Both Lo and Lily look overwhelmed. My brother nods back at me like thanks. And then he whispers to Lily, “We did this together. It’s not your fault, love. We’ll figure it out.”

“I’ve f*cked up,” she says.

“I think I’ve beat you these past few months,” he murmurs. “You’ve been there for me, and I’ve been f*cking stupid.”

“No,” she says with tear-filled eyes. “You’ve been really strong.” And then they hug at the same time. Both magnetically drawn to each other, arms wrapped in such soul-deep comfort that I can’t f*cking watch.

We give them privacy, but Rose purposefully leaves the door open, so maybe not that much privacy. And my head whirls as we go into the kitchen. “How did she not get pregnant when she was screwing different guys every day?” I ask in disbelief.

“She said she was much more careful. It was her only worry back then,” Rose tells me.

Now that we know Lily didn’t slit her wrists or anything, Rose leans against the kitchen counter like it’s Sunday afternoon.

“So you knew about her pregnancy the whole f*cking time,” I assume. “You didn’t think to tell Lo?”

“It wasn’t my place, Ryke,” Rose says.

I look at Connor. “And you? You’ve never been known to butt out of other people’s business.”

“I think you’re confusing me with you,” he says casually, “and if you want my honest answer, no, I didn’t want to tell Lo. I didn’t think he could handle it. Be glad you didn’t have to make that decision because it was a f*cking hard one.”

I’m known to lie to my brother’s face if I don’t think he can handle certain things. Like my own f*cking identity when I first met him.

I don’t envy the knowledge they had. I wouldn’t have wanted it.

I scan the kitchen, the granite counters, expecting an easily excitable girl to be sitting there, swinging her legs against the cabinet. She’s not around, so I walk through the archway to the nearly empty living room, searching for Daisy, but she’s not here either.

I stop in place, realizing something…she was going to tell her sisters about what happened months ago. She was going to finally spill these harrowing details that have f*cked her over for weeks.

And of course, Lily’s issues came out today, pushing Daisy to the side. I can imagine how she feels—like her problems aren’t significant, like they don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. She’s going to shut down again, to crawl back into her hole where she hides her feelings and covers it with jokes and sarcasm.

My heart lodges in my f*cking throat. “Daisy!” I call out, my nerves escalating. Why the f*ck was I helping Lily? I don’t ever, ever want to choose Lily over Daisy. Just because Lily cries harder. Just because Lily screams louder. It doesn’t mean that Daisy’s pain isn’t more.

I run back through the kitchen, and Connor and Rose ask me what’s wrong. I shake my head and check the guest bathroom.

I have the worst kind of feeling in my gut.

I sprint to the garage while I take out my phone and call the security at the front of the gate. I grab my bike keys out of my pocket. “Did Daisy leave?” I ask, but I find my answer. My black Ducati sits lonely—without its red match.

“Fifteen minutes ago,” he says.

Fuck. I hang up.

“RYKE!” Rose screams at the top of her lungs to get my attention. “What’s going on?” She stomps into the garage that’s already halfway open, the doors groaning as they rise.

“I’m taking care of it,” I tell her, fitting my helmet over my head. I start the f*cking bike, changing gears, and then I ride the hell out of there before she can say another word.

I’m so f*cking angry at myself.

But most of all, I just hope she’s okay.

I hope I find her before she does something completely f*cking insane.





< 64 >

DAISY CALLOWAY



I need air. The kind that bursts your lungs. The kind of jolt that sends your entire body reverberating with energy and electricity.

I want to wake up.

I’m tired of being in a half-sleep. Of seeing the world through a foggy lens.

I park my Ducati on a bridge that overlooks a murky lake. The night air whips around me, reminding me that it’s almost December. The chill awakens my bones, and I peel off my green cargo jacket. Just a thin tank top and jeans left. I easily hoist my body on the old brick ledge, welcoming the cold from up high.

I had to leave the house. When Lily relapses or has some sort of emotional event, I feel in the way. Like a piece of furniture blocking everyone’s path. It’s best just to be gone. And there’s nowhere I’d rather be than here.