Thrive (Addicted, #4)(120)

“So serious that you shared it with everyone.”

“Because I knew you were going to jump down my fucking throat!” He springs to his feet with this fury, and I rise to mine, my ribs expanding with each heavy breath.

“If you cared about her, then you wouldn’t be sneaking around like you’re doing something wrong!” What am I supposed to think? He’s an older guy. She’s a younger girl. And if he liked her at all beyond just sex, he’d be with her. For real.

“Fuck you!” Ryke shouts, veins protruding in his arms and neck. “You’ve made this impossible, Lo!”

“She’s EIGHTEEN!” I yell, nearing him. And even though his nose flares in anger, he forces himself to step back. “She’s like my little sister. It wasn’t supposed to be possible! But you didn’t care. You still banged her.” I trusted him. I accepted him into my life, and if he hurts her at all, it’s partially my fault.

He cracks his knuckles, probably to stop himself from forming fists.

“Your cock finally got the best of you, didn’t it?” I ask. “She turned eighteen and you could finally stick it in—”

“No, it wasn’t fucking like that!” His muscles flex and knuckles whiten, hands balled into fists.

“I should leave you alone in this desert,” I tell him. “I am kicking myself right now, for every time I let you near her, for every time I let you be alone with her—”

“You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about.” He huffs in aggravation, but he never explains himself. I wait a second, expecting him to clarify. I can’t read your fucking mind, Ryke.

“I don’t know what I’m fucking talking about?” All I have to go on is what I see. And not all of it is good. Most of it is just inappropriate, starting from when she was fifteen. “How long, Ryke? Tell me that, how fucking long have you liked her more than just a friend, and let’s see if it’s all in my head?”

“I don’t know.” His hard gaze falls to the red dirt.

“I’m going to ask you again,” I say, a tremor in my voice. “How long—”

“Stop,” he grits.

I take another step towards him. “No, how long—”

“FOR YEARS!” he screams, blood rushing to his face, red and pissed and tormented. I don’t want to believe him. Even if I have for so long. Even if I’ve seen it right in front of me. “Is that what you want to hear?! Years, Lo.”

I wished that it wasn’t true. That he didn’t drag Daisy into our family. That girl deserves to be free from this shit. “You’re lying?” I say.

“I’m not,” he says, tears welling in his eyes. “I have been so fucking attracted to that girl. And I never planned on doing a fucking thing about it. I never was going to try. And I tried…I tried so fucking hard not thinking about her like that.” The honesty pours out of him. “It was wrong. I knew it was fucking wrong. I suppressed everything as much as I could.”

He liked her from the start. “Then why not stay away from her?” I ask. “Why not put a hundred fucking feet between you and Daisy? You flirted with her every day, Ryke. You became her friend.” It sounds like a motive to end up with her, like he was just waiting around until she became the right age.

“I convinced myself that nothing would ever happen, so I thought it was okay to push further.”

“You’re a fucking idiot!” I shout. Seriously. The moment he decided to be a part of her life, it was over. “She was so hot,” I say, “that you couldn’t say no after she became legal—”

“No,” he interjects, stepping forward with purpose and rage. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it fucking like?!” I shout, trying to pull something out of him that he won’t let go.

And then he screams, “I FUCKING LOVE HER!”

My jaw drops, his words physically knocking me back a couple steps. I just—I scan his features, his eyes that plead for me to understand and scorch with emotion.

“I fell in fucking love with her,” he finally explains. “It hurt to be away from Daisy. It hurt to watch her with other guys. Everything fucking hurt, and I didn’t want to live with that pain anymore. I fucking couldn’t.” He takes a deep breath. “I can’t tell you when it became unbearable, but it did.”

I scrutinize him for a while, letting every single syllable sink in. It hurt to watch her with other guys. I spent years being the best friend of a sex addict. I spent years loving a girl who opened her door to every guy but me. And there isn’t one day that I would wish that kind of torment on my brother or a friend. Not one.

So I say, “I understand, more than anyone, how painful it is watching someone you love be with other people.” I pause. “But you can’t really love her—”

“I’ve known her for over two years,” he says. “I’ve spent so much fucking time with her, Lo. We’ve been through a lot together, so yes, I fell in love with her.”

I look over my shoulder, at the girls. Lily has her thin arms wrapped around her tall sister while Daisy cries, wetting Lily’s shirt. I turn back to Ryke, but he’s still staring at Daisy.

His expression—it’s beyond just caring for her. I remember him sympathizing with Daisy some years ago, in Cancun; I remember Ryke explaining how they were raised by similar kinds of mothers. But this is empathy reserved for one other person in your life, the type that some people may never even feel. It’s just written all over his face.