Connor is more concentrated on the f**king challenge, so I think he’s lapped me by two chin-ups.
“It helped me before,” Lo admits. “I stayed sober for a long time, and Lily’s in a good place. She’ll be okay without me.”
But it’s different now. Back then, he wasn’t famous. No one knew his name. Lily’s sex addiction hadn’t been publicized. He was just a rich kid from Philly.
“Do you think it’s the right move?” Lo asks.
Fifteen. I usually can do twenty-two, but a nervous sweat drips down my forehead, and my arms go slack at sixteen chin-ups. I drop my feet to the ground. “I don’t know,” I say, undoing the Velcro on my gloves. I slip them off my hands.
Connor does his final chin-up, barely breaking a sweat. “Twenty-three,” he exclaims, a smile behind the words. He knows he beat me. I smack his chest, hoping he’d flinch from the playful attack, but he flexes instead, and I hit muscle.
“Fuck you,” I tell him easily.
He grins. “You love me.”
“You say that to everyone,” I tell him. “And I highly f**king doubt the entire world loves you, Cobalt.”
“The entire world doesn’t have to love me,” he says, picking up his water again. “Only the ones that matter.”
“That’s cute. Did you write that in your diary this morning?”
“No, I read it from yours,” he banters.
I flip him off, and then Connor turns his attention on my brother, never really forgetting what we were talking about. “When were you thinking of leaving for rehab?”
Lo shrugs. “Maybe this week since Ryke is going to California. It just seemed like a good time.”
A lump lodges in my f**king throat. It’s not a good time. I want to be around him while he’s in rehab. I don’t like knowing that he’ll be separated for that long from Lily, from me and Connor, from the ones that truly love him. Last time he went to rehab, I was there. I went to meetings with him. And I’m honestly not f**king sure he can handle the criticism of the media, focusing on his stint in rehab. I worry that’ll send him over the edge too.
Connor nods. “I personally think it’s a good idea.”
Lo’s shoulders lift at that, taking Connor’s opinion with high regard. And then his eyes meet mine. “What about you?”
He can’t go to rehab. “I want you to come with me,” I say.
He frowns with a glare. It’s his normal f**king look, so I don’t take offense to how hostile he appears. I don’t know why I ever thought this kid had friends in prep school. He’d more likely chew them up and spit them out. “What?” he says with edge.
“To California,” I tell him. “Fuck rehab, I’ll make sure you don’t drink. It’ll be a road trip out west. You and me.”
“The wind in your hair,” Connor adds, smiling as he sips his water.
“Shut the f**k up,” I say lightly.
Lo’s face sharpens as he thinks about this. He glances at Connor, then at me before he says, “If I go with you, I think Connor should come too.”
I glare because I can feel Connor gloating beside me. “Why?”
“Why?” Connor says like it’s the stupidest question ever. I feel like he’s about to say Because I’m me.
I have to stop him before I choke on his f**king arrogance. “Seriously,” I say to Lo. “He has a wife that’ll castrate you if you bring him back broken. What if he chips a nail?”
“Then I’ll get a manicure,” Connor quips. “There are solutions to everything. You just have to think to find them. Such hard work.”
“Are we f**king friends?” I ask Connor, glowering. Lo just watches in slight amusement, but really, I think he’s processing my proposal.
“I’m not sure what a ‘fucking’ friend is, so I can’t answer you.”
“Look at that, I know something that Connor Cobalt doesn’t.”
“When it comes to slang, made up words, and the best fire hydrants to piss on, yes, you do.”
“Fuck you.”
“You keep saying it, but you still haven’t done it.” His lips curve upward.
Lo cuts us off, “If you’re both going to be this annoying the whole trip, then I’m choosing rehab.”
“So you’re coming with me?” I ask, internally letting out a deep f**king breath. I feel like I helped him dodge a bullet, and I’m waiting for the gun to reload.
“Yeah, but like I said, only if Connor comes. No offense, Ryke, but I’m afraid we’re going to kill each other if we’re together for that long.” If we bring up our family issues, we just may.
Connor’s a big peacemaker in our circle of friends. He may like to irritate me on purpose, but when everyone starts fighting, he’s the one who calms people down. So I can understand Lo wanting him to come along.
“Fine with me,” I tell him.
My phone buzzes in my shorts. I think it’s Daisy. 1 p.m. in Paris. I check the message.
I’d like to see you before you go kill yourself on a goddamn mountain. – Jonathan
I glare and delete the message.
“Who was that?” Lo asks. “You look pissed.”
“My mom,” I lie. Although, she did text me five times last night. I never answer her, even though it’s the same plea: Come see me. I’m sorry. Ryke, please. I need to see you. I love you.
I’ll always love my mom because she’s my mother. But I can’t ever forgive her for what she’s done to me, to Lily, to the Calloway girls, my brother and inadvertently Connor.
She read my personal texts to Lo, where we talked about Lily’s sex addiction. And she sold the information to the media with the headline: Daughter of Fizzle Creator and CEO is Confirmed Sex Addict. Selling Lily out wasn’t just for money. It was to hurt Lo, and that way, she’d hurt Jonathan.
But she also f**king hurt me.
Now, all six of us are famous because of Sara Hale.
Thanks Mom.
11
RYKE MEADOWS
Emergency! SOS! – Lily
I eat one bite of my f**king sub at Lucky’s before Lily sends me an SOS. It seems too comical to be serious. I set the sub on the wrapper, tomatoes and lettuce falling from the bread. “Did you guys get a text from Lily?” I ask Connor and Lo across from me.
Lo freezes, clutching his Fizz Life can. “No, what does she want?”
It’s unusual for Lily to text me before Lo. “I don’t know yet.” I text back: What’s wrong?
Connor scrolls through his phone, more agitation passing across his features than I think he’d want to show.
“Your shipment of handcuffs not come in, sweetheart?” I ask him before picking my sub back up in two hands.
“Hoping I’ll cuff you to my bed?” he banters, his face returning to that impassive, unreadable state. “I’d make good on your fantasies, but Rose would be pissed at the claw marks on the headboard.”
“Now I have claws?” I say with raised eyebrows.
He combats me by arching one. That f**ker. “You’re lucky, I don’t usually let dogs sleep in my bed, but I’m willing to make an exception.”
I flip him off, and Lo’s leg bounces nervously beneath the table. He holds his hand up at me like what the f**k? “What’s going on with my girlfriend?”