Hothouse Flower (Calloway Sisters #2)

by Krista Ritchie

And as she tried to stop him from wrecking her bike, he turned around and assaulted her in broad fucking daylight. I wish I had been there. I would have fucking killed him. I ended up taking her to the hospital because she wouldn’t tell anyone else about it. She didn’t want to worry her family. They found out anyway, but they never learned about her broken rib. Or the fact that the trauma of the event has stayed with her past that single moment. They think it was no more than a few bruises. I don’t fucking blame her sisters or my brother for not noticing the change in Daisy from that point on. She likes to make it seem like she’s okay, even when she’s not. She hates whining, crying and throwing tantrums because she thinks she’ll come across as immature. When she’s hanging out with all of us, people in their twenties, she’d do anything to avoid that label. God fucking forbid she act her age. And fuck that, when a guy assaults you, you’re allowed to have every moment to scream. You’re allowed to talk it out and ruin everyone’s week by burdening them with your emotions. “Don’t try convincing me of anything else,” I tell her. “I’m going to be fucking stubborn on this subject.”

i feel so bad for daisy