Hothouse Flower (Addicted #4)(55)

“No,” she cries. She springs up immediately. “No, please don’t do this…I need you—”

“Daisy,” I say her name forcefully. My lips find her ear. “You have to f*cking try to sleep again.” I rise off the bed, and she hugs her legs and rests her forehead on her knees, sobbing.

I turn to my brother, my heart clenching, and I throw my hands up like, What do you want me to f*cking do now?

His brows are furrowed in concern. “Daisy? What can we do? I can get Lily on the phone.”

She shakes her head and wipes her tears. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

While my brother keeps conversing with her, Connor suddenly rests a firm hand on my shoulder. “I need to talk to you,” he says quietly.

He looks angry. His deep blue eyes pierce me in accusation, and his fingers are digging into my skin. He rarely shows this kind of emotion—and he’s letting me see it on purpose.

He knows.

He knows I’ve been keeping her problems a secret, and he probably gathered that they stemmed from a traumatic event.

I don’t want to talk about her issues with him. “Maybe later,” I say, stepping out of his hold.

“Ryke, this is serious.”

“You don’t think I f*cking know that?” I growl under my breath. I glance back at Lo who’s looking between us, but he doesn’t say anything and Connor and I shut down the conversation.

Lo hands Daisy a water bottle. She takes small sips, leaning against the headboard. “How many times has this happened?” my brother asks her.

“Not that much.” She rubs her eyes with the back of her hand. “It was just a nightmare.”

“Not according to the smartest guy in the goddamn room.”

“The world,” Connor corrects him, hiding his anger from my brother. “Being smarter than the three of you really isn’t that big of an achievement.” He pauses. “No offense.”

“I’m f*cking offended,” I retort.

“Oh, sorry,” he says flatly. “I don’t really care about your feelings.”

Lo shoots us a look. “Now’s not the time for you both to go at it.” He takes the water from Daisy when she finishes with it. “Are you going to do something about your night terrors or whatever they’re called—or are you hoping it’ll magically go away?”

She smiles weakly. “Magic,” she says. “I’ve consulted with three blue fairies and Tinkerbell. I think they’ve got me covered.”

Lo glares.

“Joking,” she tells him. “I’ve been to a doctor. It hasn’t been as bad as tonight. I think with what happened at the runway the other day, my head as been all screwy.” She downplays the degree of her illness. I would believe her in this moment.

I know Lo does.

I know Connor can’t.

The facts that he just acquired disprove her words, and he can easily look past Daisy’s sweet-natured voice and bright smile. He’s talked to me a few times about Daisy being depressed—and if she needed to go see a therapist. He diagnoses people from afar and only f*cking brings it up when he wants to.

Daisy rests her head on the wooden headboard, her shirt stained with sweat, her limbs sagging like she just ran a marathon. I watch her foot cramp and her calf muscle spasm, and she brings her leg to her chest and massages it herself with a wince.

Normally that’d be me.

But I stand at the edge of the bed, close to coming clean about everything right here. I just want to hold her. Even if I told my brother the truth, I can see Lo kicking me out of the room, tossing my bag in my face, telling me to get on a plane.

Like he said before, he let me into his life, and it seems like I went after his girlfriend’s little sister like a predator.

That was never my f*cking intention.

Sure, I want to f*ck her. But it’s more than that. It’s always been more than that.

I stay quiet and rub my jaw, so much taken out of me tonight. If I do right by her, I do wrong by him. I wonder if the only way to move forward is to unearth my past with my brother.

I don’t know if I’m ready for that shit storm.

I just want to forget with him—but I wonder who’s been the stronger brother all this time.

Lo has confronted our father. He’s worked out his feelings. He’s rebuilt a relationship with him while trying to stay sober.

I’m the one who can’t deal.

Maybe that has to f*cking change.





< 23 >

DAISY CALLOWAY



“Ryke, what’s with the busted lip?” Cameras flash, and paparazzi swarm me. Mikey has his arm braced out, standing in front of me with his dirty blond hair and Bermuda shorts. Ryke grips my shoulder, guiding me towards the glass hotel doors.

“Did you get in a fight with one of Daisy’s ex-boyfriends?”

“Ryke, did your brother punch you?”

“What happened?”

They all ask roughly the same questions, and Ryke says nothing. A bruise has begun to form on his cheekbone from my thumb ring hitting him. I wish I could rewind time, shake my half-coherent body and tell myself to stop freaking out.

I’ve hit him before in a night terror, but not this badly.

Once we enter the sanctuary of the hotel, the noise dies down. Mikey spins towards me. “I’m going to grab something to eat before the buffet closes, but I’ll escort you to your room first just to be safe.”