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My mom was Sara Hale. My dad was Jonathan Hale. I was no one’s son.
“Connor also called you a dog,” I say with a crinkled nose. “Do you think I’m the cat to your dog or am I like a squirrel?” “How’d we get to this place?” he asks like this is the stupidest ‘fucking’ conversation.
I would actually love to be violated on that motorcycle by Ryke Meadows. I wonder how rough he would take me. Or if I would even be able to orgasm at all.
“Sex,” he says. “Sex is better than chocolate.” He always tells me this.
I’ve been sleeping in the same bed as her. I’ve been taking care of her. She’s mine. She feels like she belongs to me. I don’t want to share her with any other fucking guy. And I don’t want to be with any other fucking girl.
And then his lips meet mine, kissing me with abrupt, forceful passion that explodes my chest. A breathless moan leaves me before I can catch it.
Ryke Meadows has invigorated my body and soul. He is more than just my pillow. My wolf. My bodyguard. He’s my everything.
“I’ve ignored a lot of bad shit in my life, but I don’t want to ignore this one good thing anymore. It’s too painful.”
“I kissed you tonight because I want your lips to only touch mine. From now until forever. That’s the fucking truth.”
“I wish people were nicer,” she says softly before yawning. Me fucking too.
She’s the sun. I’m the dark. If she’s gone, I can kiss that fucking light away. Without her, I know I’ll never see it again.
Because I’ll have this scar forever. Because I’ll never be the pretty Daisy Calloway in magazine spreads or down runways. I am no longer a model. I am no longer the person my mom aspired me to be. But I am more me now than I was before.
“What we fucking have,” he says. “I love you beyond physical attraction.” He cups my smooth cheek, looking deep into my eyes. “I love you, Dais, because you’re the wildest fucking girl with the biggest fucking heart. And without you in my life”—he shakes his head like it’s an inconceivable picture—“I’d be the unhappiest fucking guy.”
Freedom doesn’t come with age. It doesn’t magically appear when you’re a legal adult. It comes when you stand up for what you believe in.
She kisses me, before I can say anything. I smile and kiss her back. Then I cup her face, my legs magnetically finding her smooth ones, tangled once again. “Better than chocolate?” I whisper. She breathes like I took her on a marathon, not a sprint. “You’re in another league.”
“Because when you find something you love, you can’t quit. Every failure pushes you harder. It’s in your soul and in your fucking heart.”
“If you make a mistake and do not correct it, this is called a mistake.” Of course he goes and actually quotes Confucius. Fuck me.
Connor may hate Confucius but there’s something he said that I never challenge. “It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.”
You are your own anchor. Do you want to keep burning or are you going to let yourself rise?
Going to jail. I’m going to jail.
There is a whole lot of fucking hate towards me. And a lot towards Daisy too, for sticking by my side. I don’t care what anyone thinks except the people in this room and our families. But the more people attack “Raisy”—as the press has called us—the more she blames her mom. The more her hate stirs.
“Just spit it out,” Lo urges. “Whatever it is. Just get it off your chest right now, love.” It’s her turn to stare at their hands. “I didn’t know how to tell you…I thought while you were in Paris, I’d figure out a good way to say it, but I don’t…I don’t think there’s a good way. And I just kept putting it off, thinking tomorrow will be the day.” She wipes her eyes quickly and with a deep breath, she says, “I’m eight weeks pregnant.” She barely looks at him.
Every time she runs off, she does it alone, and I’ve always feared the one time where she won’t return, floating dead on the surface of a lake, an ocean, a river.
scar. “You’re a hothouse flower,” I tell her. “You can’t grow under natural conditions. You need adventure. And security and love in order to stay alive.”
