“So what? You’re going to drink a beer? You’re going to chug a bottle of whiskey? Then what?” he continues, eyes flashing hot. “You’ll ruin your relationship with Lily. You’ll feel like shit in the morning. You’ll wish you were f**king dead—”
“What do you think I’m wishing now?!” I scream, pointing a finger at the f**king ground. “I hate myself for breaking my sobriety. I hate that I’m at this place in my life again.” I wish I could take back the day I broke my sobriety a million times over. I wish I never answered that phone call. I wish I walked back upstairs and crawled in bed. I wish I held Lily and just disappeared from the world with her.
I wish.
I wish.
I wish. And nothing ever comes true.
His face falls and he raises his hand like calm down. “You were under a lot of scrutiny.”
“You’re under the same scrutiny,” I retort. The media asks him for a statement about the allegations almost every day. “And I didn’t see you breaking your sobriety.” My brother—unbreakable, unbendable like the rocks he climbs. Nothing can topple him.
The jealousy and resentment tastes horrible.
“It’s different,” Ryke says, his voice less hostile and aggressive. “The media was saying some pretty awful shit, Lo. You coped the first way you knew how. No one blames you. We just want to f**king help you.”
Sweat collects on the back of my neck. It’s not from running down the street. “You don’t believe them, do you?” I ask. I can see the answer in his eyes, almost every time we talk about the molestation rumors.
“Who?” he asks.
“The news, all those reporters…you don’t think that our dad actually did those things to me?” Say no. Just say no. I need him to believe me.
He looks physically pained, his answer so clear.
“It’s not f**king true!” I shout. Why can’t my own brother believe me? I’ve known him for three years now. Three years. That should count for something.
“Okay, okay.” He raises his hands again. “You just have to move f**king forward. Don’t worry about what people think.”
I internally laugh, one full of agitation. Don’t worry about what people think. I inhale deeply and stare at the sky with the darkest glare I have. “You say shit, Ryke, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Do you know how annoying that is?” I turn my head, meeting his eyes.
“I’ll keep saying it then, just to irritate the f**k out of you.”
I let out another deep breath. Okay.
He rubs the back of my head and nods towards my house down the street. I follow him for a few paces, and I see the way his muscles cut in defined lines—reminding me that he’s an athlete. A different kind. He might not have a nine-to-five job, but he has goals.
Goals that he’s put on hold to be there for me. I don’t want anyone to pause their life because I had to slam on the brakes for mine.
I stop in the middle of the quiet road, morning. No cameras. It’s the best time to run. I lick my lips. “About your trip to California…I know I haven’t asked about it in months. I’ve been too self-absorbed—”
“Don’t worry about it.” He gestures with his head to the house. “Let’s go make some breakfast for the girls.”
“Wait. I have to say this.” I swallow hard. “I need you to go.” He tries to cut me off, but I barrel ahead. “I can already hear your stupid f**king rebuttal. And I’m telling you to go. Climb your mountains. Do whatever you need to do. You’ve had this planned for a long time, and I’m not going to ruin it for you.”
I can’t hurt anyone else.
“I can always reschedule. Those mountains aren’t f**king moving, Lo.”
I put my hands on my head again. He’s wanted to free-solo climb these rock formations in California for months, maybe even longer than that. “I will feel like shit if you don’t go,” I say. “And I’ll drink. I can promise you that.”
He just glares.
Why doesn’t he get it? Leave me. “I don’t need you,” I sneer. It’s a complete and utter lie. But I can’t hold onto him like a life vest. I have to let my brother have a f**king life without me in it. “I don’t f**king need you to hold my hand. I need you to be goddamn selfish like me for once in your life so I don’t feel like utter shit compared to you, alright?”
He stares at me for a long moment, with this rock hard expression that turns darker by the minute. Please. Give up on me. Just this once. And then he says, “Okay, I’ll go.”
I exhale, a pressure actually lifting off me. I didn’t realize I’d been carrying around that guilt for so long.
Ryke wraps his arm around my shoulder and says, “Maybe one day you’ll be able to outrun me.”
Yeah. Maybe one day.
49
2 years : 01 month
September
LILY CALLOWAY
“What’d I do?” I ask, my shoulders curving forward. Rose dragged me into the downstairs bathroom like she was plowing through bulky Spartan warriors. Whereas I’d most likely turn beet-red and surrender to their swords, Rose just knocked them all down, a woman on a mission. No man can stop her. Not even three-hundred of them.
“This isn’t about you,” Rose says, fixing her hair into a sleek pony.
I frown. “Are you preparing to unplug a toilet?”
She gives me a look.
“What? You’re fixing your hair. That’s all I have to go on.” She’s not providing me with any information.
Right when she opens her mouth, someone knocks on the door. “What are you two doing in there together?” Lo asks, suspicion in his voice. This is very suspicious, I’ll admit. Joint bathroom sessions only happen when there are multiple stalls. Unless, you know, sex. But that can’t be one of his thoughts. Because, incest.
Uh. I redden instantly. I need some bleach for my mind.
I picture Lo leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and I almost invite him inside. But Rose smashes her palm against my lips and gives me humongous crazy eyes.
It both scares me and propels me to my sister’s side of things. Her yellow-green eyes are very convincing. Plus, even though she has a flair for the dramatics, this seems serious.
Rose drops her hand, trusting me to stay quiet, and then she cracks the door and sticks her head out. “Two words, Loren: Female menstruation.” She slams the door right in his face.
“Great,” he calls back with irritation. “I’d say talk to me again when you’re done PMSing, but you’re always a bitch.” I wince at that comeback. He’s been a lot meaner since he relapsed, but that also comes with an even bigger portion of guilt. I imagine his face twisting with it, and it hurts my stomach even more.
His footsteps sound on the floorboards, drifting off.
“Female menstruation?” I ask with the rise of my brows. “What’s this about, Rose?”
She passes me with fire in her eyes and crouches to the cabinets beneath the sink. Her silence makes me nervous.
I almost bite my fingernails, but I drop my hand quickly. “Should I go get Daisy?” I ask. “If this is like a sister thing, we should include her, right?” I feel badly leaving her alone with the guys, especially since we’re all together to celebrate her trip to Paris. In a few days she’ll be off to Fashion Week, her first time attending without our mom. It’s a big deal for her, and Rose likes any reason to throw a party, even if only close friends attend.