Thrive (Addicted, #4)(39)

“They’re not bad.” I don’t want her to be afraid of them. I’ve called her sex therapist to talk about the issue, and she said that I need to find a way to motivate Lily.

I feel like I’ve tried everything. I repeat the same words over and over, and she’s still scared shitless that someone will film us and put it online. She said she has a “bad feeling” about them.

“That’s a nice watering can,” she says, dodging the issue.

“You’re not going to take a shower, are you?”

“That’s a strong phrase,” she breathes. “I’m going to forgo the shower for a bit and opt for an alternative choice.”

I gently set her on her feet.

Her shoulders curve towards her thin body. She’s disappointed.

But this is serious. “A bath?” I ask, hoping but disbelieving she’d choose that option.

She tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear, the strands already becoming greasy. “More like a washcloth bathing experience.”

I don’t blink. “Not for six months.” It’s not a question.

“People in the wilderness do it.”

“People in the wilderness jump into a river when they smell. Are you going to jump into a river?”

She pales. “No.”

“Then take a shower.”

“Why are you being the hygiene police all of a sudden?” she questions, her eyes welling up with tears. My stomach drops. “You never used to care if I skipped for a week.”

I hate that I have to be a hardass. I lower my voice so Brett’s filming equipment can’t pick up the sound. “This is six months, and we live with other people now. You smelling like sex is not the way to go, Lil. They may think we’re fucking more than usual and then they’ll be all over us.” Her pleading, watery eyes try to sway me. “Skip tomorrow, fine, but I’m going to have to start being careful when I come on you.”

She frowns. “You haven’t done that in…”

“A long time, I know.” Crazy sex has been out of the picture for a while.

She glances at her boobs like she’s visualizing the event.

“Lily,” I snap. “What’s wrong?”

“I was just thinking…” She turns red all over. “…about your plans.”

I hug her close and kiss her lips lightly.

“Your phone just buzzed,” she tells me as we part. She hands me the cell, and I open the text.

Is everything okay? – Ryke

I don’t know. I type the text and think of more to add, but so many phrases pop in my head. I realize I’m just overwhelmed.

Not all days are easy.

Most of them make no fucking sense. A good handful tears me apart, limb from limb. The best days are the ones I try to remember, but sometimes, even those are swallowed by the bad.

I send the text as it is. Three words.

I’m on my way. – Ryke

I’m about to pocket my phone, but it vibrates again.

Don’t drink. – Ryke

He’s told me that a million times before, but it’s this one time that affects me the most. Don’t drink. I won’t turn this bad day into a terrible one. For me.

But really, for her.

Fear of failing Lily—it motivates me in ways that no one can understand.





{ 15 }

0 years : 05 months January





LILY CALLOWAY


Lo and I walk around the museum in deadened silence, a camera shadowing us. Ryke arrived about ten minutes ago and pulled Scott outside while Savannah, a pretty redheaded girl, films them. When we passed the glass windows, I saw Ryke shouting at the producer, but his fists weren’t raised.

The whole day, I sensed how distraught Lo was becoming. He has a lot to worry about. Halway Comics, Superheroes & Scones, his father breathing down his neck, alcohol…and me.

It hurts to realize that I can’t take away his pain today and that in a small way, I may be contributing to it.

We sit on a bench, a mammoth painting hung on the wall before us. A white angel battles a dark-haired man in red silk; the man is most likely on the losing end.

Angels always win.

I don’t know its true meaning. Or the context. But the longer I stare at the image, the sadder I become.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe.

I feel him turn to look at me. “For what?” He edges closer, his thigh against mine. I stare right into those amber swirls, seeing his agony, his love and his vice. All at once.

“You have so much going on,” I say softly. “I don’t want you to constantly worry about me too.”

He frowns. “I’ll always worry about you,” he tells me. “It’s impossible not to.”

“In a future,” I whisper, “I’d like to think that you just know wherever I am, I’m smiling…and content.” No agonizing. No stress over my wellbeing. “It’s just whether that future is ours or someone else’s.” I focus on the bench again.

He presses his fingers underneath my chin, lifting my gaze once more. “You remember when we were in tenth grade and we decided to ditch comics in Earth-616 for all the alternate universes and realities?”

I nod. “It was fun for a few months.” We read some of the most bizarre comics during that time, and months later, we preferred the main continuity in Marvel comics. Earth-616.