I want to believe that. So badly. The side of me that I hate most never will. “It’s not bullshit if you’re f**king her,” I say.
“We’re not f**king!” he shouts.
The door opens, and Connor, Rose and Lily slip into the garage.
Lily stands next to me with a heavy frown. “What’s going on?” she whispers.
“I caught them f**king on her motorcycle.” I literally say it to be mean.
Ryke groans. “Come on! We were both on the bike, fully f**king clothed. We’ve never had sex!” He shakes his head. “How many times do I have to say it?” I don’t know. I don’t know how to give you a f**king break when I rarely get one. It’s the cruelest part of my soul. “You know what,” he says, “we might as well f**k if you all think we’ve done it a thousand times already.”
“Whoa, whoa.” I cringe and raise my hands. “I can’t stomach you guys doing it once. So please spare me the goddamn picture of it happening a thousand times.”
“Both of you,” Connor chimes in, stepping off the short stairs that lead down into the garage, “stop for a second.” He stands between us. “You’re overreacting.”
Probably. But sometimes it feels good to see the anger flash in my brother’s eyes. Like we’re on equal playing fields. It’s sick, I realize.
“I don’t like being accused of things that I didn’t f**king do,” Ryke growls.
That just about kills me. “Yeah? How do you think Dad feels?!” It comes out before I can stop it. The garage deadens with silence, my hostile voice echoing. I have not once pressured Ryke for a statement. I won’t either.
But every day he remains quiet is another day I fight this alone. All he has to do is go to the press. That’s it. If he can’t vouch for our dad, then why can’t he at least vouch for me? Yeah I’m not the greatest person to be around, but he’s been by my side for three goddamn years. That has to count for something.
I swallow, realizing he’s not going to say anything. I can’t force him to speak out. It’s too big of a deal. “She’s eighteen,” I tell him, sticking to the topic.
“Here we go.” Ryke tosses his arms in the air. “Let’s f**king hear it, Lo. She’s eighteen. She’s like your little sister. Her mom hates me. I know. I know. I f**king know.”
Pain ripples through me. I’m sorry. Am I though? I just feel like shit. Lily’s arm slides around my waist, and my shoulders begin to relax. I exhale.
It’s not over though. I’ve always been a machine gun, another bullet ready after I press the trigger. Most of the time, I’m just waiting for it to ricochet. And finally hit me.
51
2 years : 01 month
September
LILY CALLOWAY
I skirt past the kitchen, training my focus on the living room and the remote. Not Loren Hale, who closes the fridge, a water bottle in hand. I am not even going to glance at his gorgeous bone structure, those sharp-as-ice cheekbones or the pink lips that turn into a sexy pout when he glares. Or his intense amber eyes that always stare straight into me.
It’s just me and the remote.
Right on the couch cushion.
“Hey,” Lo calls after me.
“Hey back,” I reply, not slowing down. Hello, remote. I sidle to the couch and before I even plop down, Lo runs to catch me. In a flash, he clasps my bicep, stopping me. I let the surprise float across my face. “Do you have Peter Parker reflexes? Why didn’t you tell me you were bitten by a radioactive spider?”
He doesn’t laugh or even acknowledge my joke. “Why are you acting so weird?”
“Weird how?” My stomach does a dance, the kind of nervous dance that only middle school students can relate to.
“You’re avoiding me.”
Okay. He’s right on that account. On my way to the doctor with Rose, we had a major flat tire, which was a bad, bad sign, doomed from the start. So by the time the doctor said you’re pregnant to both of us, I resigned to the fact that this was some real cosmic injustice.
And that I better get my shit together so the news doesn’t break Lo. Rose is two weeks further along than me, so she may have to announce her pregnancy before I do. But I just have to wait for the best moment, the perfect time where Lo is in a better place. I’m hoping it’ll come before I start showing. It has to.
“Lily,” he snaps, waving his hand in my face. “Are you even with me?”
Keeping this from Lo is like carrying around a grenade, not knowing when it’ll blow up. “I’m not avoiding you,” I say swiftly.
“You just walked right past me,” he argues, “and yesterday, you didn’t even wait to shower with me.” Shower sex. I skipped shower sex. That had to be a big red flag. His eyebrows pinch together, hurt coursing through his features. “Did I do something? Are you mad at me?”
“No,” I say, a knife wedging itself in my ribcage. “I just wanted to go longer without ha**ng s*x so frequently. You know, see if I can do it. Like a personal goal or something.”
His muscles loosen in an instant. “Can you let me know when you’re planning these personal goals?”
I nod. “Good news,” I say, rising on my tiptoes and hooking my arms around his neck, “I’ve completed it.”
His lips curve upward, and his hands fall to my ass, squeezing and building a strong pressure like sexual magic. He walks me back into the couch, and I lie against the cushions, the remote digging into my shoulder blade. I toss it on the floor and feel the weight of Lo’s toned body bearing down on mine.
A noise catches in my throat, and my heart skips, utterly transfixed by his lips. I try to lean up to touch them with mine, but he places his palm on my chest, flattening me against the couch.
“I don’t like this game,” I tell him.
His knees rest on either side of my hips, straddling me and making it near impossible to roll off the couch or to acquire a long, sultry kiss.
“You don’t?” His brows rise, and his hand disappears up my thin cotton shirt. Gliding over my skin, teasing me. It’s a rush that fills me with need.
“Yes,” I breathe. Yes? Was that the right response?
“Looks like you’re stuck here,” he says.
Yes. I try to focus, but that hand is creeping up my abdomen at such a slow, intoxicating pace. “No kissing?” I whisper.
He bends down, and his lips brush the nape of my neck, his nose nuzzling me. I cry a little, the sensations blistering and pulsing inside of me. His tongue slides against my soft skin, and I shudder, my limbs trembling beneath him.
Not fair. So not fair. I am a goner. I let out a hoarse ragged breath, and then wedge my arm between our bodies, enough that I can place a hand on the outside of his pants. When I begin rubbing, he groans into my neck.
Ha! I take it a step further and slide my hand underneath the elastic of his gym shorts but over his tight compression shorts, like spandex that most guys wear to keep their stuff in place when they work out. Very little fabric lies between my palm and his cock.
Lo rocks his pelvis, sucking gently on my neck, and his lips travel to mine in a brief moment, attacking with feverish hunger. Yes. God yes.
Instead of moving my hand, I let him grind his body against me. My lips ache and swell, and my panties begin to soak. When I feel him harden, I let out a sharp breath and try to slip my fingers beneath his compression shorts.