Thrive (Addicted, #4)(66)

Today is a good day.

“Lily, Lo!” Rose calls from the bottom of the stairs. We both turn our heads. Her expression flips between concern and pure rage.

Any momentary smile just vanishes in an instant.

“Can you come up here for a minute? We need to talk to you both.”

We?

Lo and I exchange looks. We’re both clueless what this could be about. For all I know, they’re calling us upstairs for a surprise party…

Fat chance.





{ 30 }

0 years : 08 months

April





LOREN HALE


What the fuck is happening?

The thought plays on repeat while Lily and I sit on Connor and Rose’s bed. The longer he spills these details, the more darkness spreads over my face, clinging to my emotions like tar. My leg jostles in irritation and anxiety while Lily shakes her head, as if their words are nothing but wrong.

Connor and Rose locked up their alcohol—a bottle of wine and tequila—and it went missing.

I sense where this is headed, even before Connor says, “We found the empty bottle at the bottom of your closet.”

Their eyes, along with my brother’s, drill into me. Questioningly. Accusingly.

It’s not true, but I have no fucking evidence. Why would my word hold up? I’m the addict. I’m untrustworthy. Anything I do or say won’t matter because it could all be a lie.

It’s why I remain quiet. It’s why my heated gaze stays fixed on the wall. Through my silence, Lily begins to defend me. “He would have thrown up if he drank!” she yells. “He’s on Antabuse.”

I rub my lips to hide a grimace. I should have told her that I quit taking the pills. Christ. I should have fucking told her.

I bury my anguish beneath confusion, trying to piece together who put the alcohol in my closet. But it’s not a difficult problem to solve. Scott wants drama. He’s received plenty from us, despite his declaration to play nice.

“Are you still taking it?” Ryke asks me.

His words push the wrong button. Hate sears my lungs. “Shouldn’t you know that? You count my pills.” My harsh voice hurts my ears. I hate this.

I hate that I’m going on the defensive, but it’s the easiest mode to be in.

Rose almost steps forward in retaliation, but Connor places his hands on her waist to keep her calm.

Ryke scratches the back of his neck. “I stopped because I was trying to trust you.”

Why are you such a fuck up, Loren? My eyes start to burn. “I don’t even know why you ask me,” I say. “You already think I drank.”

“Honestly, I don’t know what to think.”

Connor cuts in to ease the situation. “We can squash this really easily. We haven’t seen you sick these past couple weeks. All you have to do is show us your pills so we know that you’re taking them.”

I can’t. They’ll hate me. I don’t need to see their disappointment. “It’s not your fucking body, Connor,” I sneer. Why can’t they just leave me alone? It’d be so much easier. “This doesn’t affect anyone in the room but me and maybe Lil. I don’t have to tell you shit.” I stand, about to leave this all behind me.

I can’t look back at Lily. I just storm towards the exit, but Rose steps in my path, stretching her arms on the door frame to physically block me. I don’t need this right now, not from her.

“Your addiction affects everyone in this room,” she nearly yells. “If you can’t see that—”

“I see just fine,” I say coldly. Don’t push me, Rose. My jaw throbs. My muscles strain. I just want to escape this. Doesn’t she get it?

“Don’t be an idiot.”

Don’t be such a fucking idiot, Loren. I let out a short laugh. “That’s so fucking easy for you, isn’t it?” I say with malice. I am being swallowed by blackness. I can’t see a way out besides hurting her as much as she’s torturing me. “Being smart.” I step forward in her face. “Miss Perfect. What do you have to worry about? Does my hair look good today? Do my shoes match my dress?”

“Lo,” Connor warns.

His voice is so soft behind me. I drown it out. I watch Rose’s ribcage fall and rise heavily, venom seeping out of her eyes.

I begin to numb.

I rotate and spot her organized bookshelf, too meticulous, nothing out of place. I walk over to the shelves. “Let’s see, Rose…” I pick up a hardback and flip through the pages before throttling the book, the spine ungluing. “How does this feel?”

She inhales severely, her collarbones jutted out.

Her pain slices my insides, and I just keep moving, being cut open with each soulless action. I open a stack of manila folders and shake the papers loose.

“Stop it!” Rose shouts, dropping to her knees to collect each page.

“This doesn’t bother you, right?” I say, agony clenching my stomach, gripping my bones. I wish she would hit me. Deck me right in the gut. I just want this pain to go away. “Nothing’s fucking wrong with Rose Calloway? I’m the idiot. I’m the fucking moron in your world who’s so stupid and selfish that he would drink again and again.” I’m the fuck up. The degenerate. The loser.

Just leave me alone.