Thrive (Addicted, #4)(92)

“No,” Ryke snaps back and points to Lo. “Your boyfriend fucks more than the average male and way more than me. You two have sex once every night.” Twice. Sometimes three or four times.

“He has an excuse,” I defend. “He’s dating a recovering sex addict.”

Ryke laughs into a grin. “Don’t fool yourself,” he says kind of meanly. His eyes flit over my shoulder to Lo. I can feel his smile as they both gang up on me. “He wants it just as badly as you.”

I would have disagreed with him months ago, when Lo feared pushing me over the edge with his own needs, but now Lo shows his arousal way more. So it seems like the truth.

“So is Lo a sex addict?” Ryke asks me, his brows raised in combat.

No. He’s not. They’re both just horny. “Fine,” I surrender, “but can you not sleep with our next store manager? It’s hard trying to find the right girl for the job.”

“Then hire a guy,” he says.

“We just went through this,” Lo says. He touches my head. “Sex addict.” He motions to Ryke. “Not a sex addict.”

“How about this?” Ryke refutes. He waves to me. “In a relationship.” His hands lie flat on his chest. “Single.”

“He has a point,” I mutter.

“No way,” Lo says. “We’re not hiring a guy because of him.” He looks to Ryke. “Keep your dick in your pants or get a girlfriend, man.”

“Or…” I say, a light bulb blinking. “What kind of girl are you not attracted to?” We can just hire someone Ryke would never sleep with. Problem solved.

“I like all women,” he proclaims.

Problem not solved.

“That’s so something a sex addict would say,” I tell him.

He chucks a fry at my face.

I eat it. So there.

“I can tell you point-blank why I’m not a sex addict,” he says, crossing his arms and rocking back on two legs of his chair. “When I come, I don’t have to do it again.”

“The real issue,” Lo says, “is how you’ve actively slept with Lily’s store managers.” Lo’s hands dive to my waist. I hold them there as they slip by my thighs.

“It’s not like I was actively…” He trails off, his gaze rising behind our chair.

We don’t have to turn our heads to find his distraction. Daisy scrapes the chair back beside Lo, her plate full of raspberries and apple slices. She senses the awkward tension almost immediately and hesitates to touch her fruit. “Am…I not welcome?”

“No,” I say and then redden. “I mean, yes. It’s your birthday.”

Ryke runs his hand through his hair, looking rather uncomfortable.

“You were saying?” Lo prods.

He meets Daisy’s eyes for two seconds, but I can’t read what passes through them. “…I wasn’t actively seeking her out.”

Daisy crunches on an apple, not prying.

“So how’d it go?” Lo asks.

“How does anything like that fucking go?” Ryke says. “We made eye contact. We talked for a couple minutes. Exchanged numbers and hooked up. The fucking end.”

“Whoa, don’t get so hostile.”

Ryke takes a deep breath, glances at Daisy once or twice and then shakes his head. “I didn’t realize that’s why you were firing the girls. I wouldn’t have gone near them if I knew that was the case.”

“Who’d you sleep with?” Daisy asks like it’s everyday conversation.

“Their store manager.” He doesn’t even lie?

Lo and I glance between them. What kind of relationship do they even have?

“Bad call,” she says.

“No fucking kidding.”

And then a shadow casts over the whole table. I look up and there’s my mother. My veins ice over, realizing that we have not talked. In so long. Still, she barely gives me the time of day. Her attention remains fixed to my little sister.

“There’s too much sugar in that, Daisy. I thought we agreed to just eat the vegetables.”

“I didn’t think—”

“It’s fine. I’ll get you a new plate.” Our mom collects the dish right in front of Daisy’s face and marches inside.

Daisy looks ill. She sets her half-bitten apple slice on the table, silence weighing down on us all. I don’t know what to say. Our mom has no self-awareness. If she did, she’d realize how much she suffocates Daisy…and how much she ignores me.

But then again, maybe she does realize it. And she just doesn’t care.

I want to give her the benefit of the doubt though. She hasn’t cast me out of the family. She’s just…dealing. In a very passive aggressive way.

Daisy breaks the silence. “She’s right. My agent said I need to lose ten pounds.”

“You’re already too skinny,” Ryke tells her, his features downcast like the storm outside.

“In your eyes, maybe,” she says softly. “To the people that matter, I’m fat.”

“Do I not fucking matter?” he asks, hurt passing through his voice.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Lay off her,” Lo interjects, glaring at his brother in warning. “It’s her birthday.”