Long Way Down (Calloway Sisters, #4)

by Krista Ritchie

In a low, husky voice, he says, “Vieni qui.” He uses Italian with me mostly in intimate moments, muttered quietly and softly. I’ve heard this phrase enough to translate it without asking. Come here. I step closer, and his rough hand slides against my cheek with so much tender affection. My body warms. “How do you say hold me?” “Abbracciami.” He wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me until our chests meet. I can’t contain my smile. “How do you say give me a kiss?” He lowers his head and whispers, “Dammi un bacio.” Then his lips press to my cheek, leaving a fiery, tingling imprint.

A giant part of me wishes I feared death. I fear people who’ll hurt me. Who’ll hurt Ryke. Who’ll hurt my sisters, but I don’t fear the end.

It hits me about this moment. When he still can’t find a foothold. It hits me. That I may witness his death. My life with him sideswipes me, knees me, rips me open—the first time he smiled at me. The first time we were alone together. The first time we kissed. All the places we’ve been. All the things we’ve seen and done. All the lonely moments we’ve filled with each other. All of that is… His foot reaches a crevice, and he climbs over the difficult section. He places his right foot too, and he shakes out his arms. Then he looks up, at me, and hot tears roll down my cheeks. Thank you. I exhale, the relief blanketing me. “I’m okay, Dais,” he says, not too far below me. “Give me five more minutes.” “Take as long as you need,” I reply, wiping my cheeks quickly. “Please don’t rush for me.” Sully lets out an audible deep breath and kneels. “I’m sweating.” He wafts his shirt.

We’re going to be married in South America. Somewhere safe from paparazzi. Somewhere happiness resides. That’s the hope at least.

“Congratulations by the way,” I tell my brother. There’s a long pause. “For what?” “You know what.” It’s the first week of October. Today marks the fucking day that my little brother has been sober…for two long years.

Rose huffs and returns to her cellphone to text. She won’t say it, but she misses both Connor and Lo. When they’re not around, she can’t argue or verbally fucking spar.

I lean forward in my seat. “Can I go with you?” I ask her outright. I don’t fucking say let me go with you. Or I have to go with you. I’m trying to do this the best way possible. If she says no, then I’ll push for Lo to at least be with her. Surprise lifts her brows and widens her eyes. “You want to go?” I nod. “Yeah.” “I thought…Lo said that you don’t like him.” “I don’t, but I want to be there for you.” I add, “You’re my fucking sister.” Her eyes flit to her phone again. “Do you think Lo will want to come too?” “Yeah.” Without a fucking doubt. “Maybe you both can be there just for like part of the time?” she asks. “Is that okay?”

She has a giant, forgiving heart, and no matter how many times people try to burn her, she’s found a way to rise above.

Her smile lights up the fucking sun. There is nothing happier in the world than this moment.

I rake a hand through my own hair. “As soon as they give me a name, Rose”—I point behind me—“I’m out that fucking door.” The police are questioning guests at the resort right this second.

I can’t fucking disagree. Though I know what this means. When Rose, Lo, and I band together, our emotions are at the most volatile level. It never indicates the right mode of action. Just the most fucking passionate one.

“There are hundreds of people at this resort.” Connor breaks into our plans and sinks a heavy weight on us. “They all recognize your face. What are you planning on doing that doesn’t involve everyone swarming you for autographs and selfies? Give me a better plan, and I’ll let you go.” Fire brims in her glare and she noticeably shakes. “I’m not writing up a business proposal for you, Richard. I’m defending myself and our unborn child.” Unborn child. Just like that, the meteor explodes against the fucking world.

Lo’s cheekbones sharpen like blades, and he’s the first to say it. “Your unborn child. Is that a new way of referring to metaphorical demonic offspring in your future or are you⁠—” “I’m pregnant,” Rose states. Lo lets out a large breath. “Damn.”

Another fact: Connor and Rose should be happy. We should all be fucking happy. Adding another kid to their family—this has been one of their dreams and goals. No one should diminish their joy.

Connor trains his gaze on me. “We weren’t being as careful as we could have been.” He could have let me believe the entire ordeal was a fucking mistake. The honesty is nice, but I don’t thank him for it. Air strains again, an uncomfortable fucking tension. Connor continues, relieving some of it, “Daisy designed this entire scenario of Rose and her being pregnant at the same time under false pretenses.” He rotates to Daisy. “You want Rose pregnant too because you’re scared of hurting her if something catastrophic happens—if you die. You don’t want to cause your sister pain, so maybe this way, her own child will be a distraction if something were to happen to you.” He doesn’t ask if he’s right. He already knows he is.

“It just seemed happy,” Daisy says, eyes clouding with tears again. I let out a heavy breath. Dais… Connor doesn’t hesitate. “A world where there are five of us, instead of six, will never be a happy one.”

“What’d we learn?” Connor asks, about to get on my fucking nerves. Lily says strongly, “That none of us want Ryke and Daisy to die.” My pulse slows, and I nod to myself. I know. “That flour cannot defeat me.” Rose lifts Janie from Connor and into her arms.

Lo adds, “That the Cobalts will never announce a goddamn pregnancy the way ordinary people do.” Connor grins, and I practically hear him fucking say: ordinary is boring, darling.

Lo reroutes his spite and hurt onto me, but he tries to bite his tongue and trounce it. In the end, he spits out, “Go fly to your death, Jonathan Ryke Meadows—see if I care.”

“How did you know?” His eyes flit from me to the powdery road, flat at the bottom of the mountain. “Know what?” “That I’m the one. That this is the ‘can’t-eat, can’t-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over-the-fence, World Series kind of stuff,’” I quote It Takes Two with as much of its original gusto.

“I’ll tell you when I first knew this was the ‘can’t-eat, can’t-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over-the-fence, World Series kind of stuff’ the day we get fucking married. And you can tell me then too.”

People give us the strongest side-eyes, but we don’t turn back or cower. Together, all four of us, we’re more invincible against the world’s judgment. But deep down I know that the night can only end in one of two ways: Yes or No.

“I didn’t ask for this, you know,” Lo tells Sam. “Generally, I think I have the kind of face that says: fuck off, don’t you dare goddamn talk to me. Apparently these people woke up blind or stupid because they’re just not getting it.”

“We can escort him out.” I breathe deeply through my nose, my knuckles burning. Lo has a hand on my shoulder, asking me if I need ice. I rigidly shake my head. “That’s unnecessary.” Connor holds the main security guard’s befuddled gaze and has to add, “He’s my friend. He’s staying with me.” The subtext beneath his declaration hits me harder than it could anyone else. Connor is vouching for me after I punched a man at his party, meaning that he values me above his reputation.

I never, not in a million fucking years, thought I meant that much to him.

I reread the text, guaranteeing this is happening. I think I might be pregnant. – Daisy

You’re all fucking crazy. – Ryke Then another. Every Calloway sister. – Ryke And another. I love you. – Ryke I can’t contain my smile. Lily gasps. “I’m not pregnant,” she whispers excitedly. Then she jumps and does a little dance, her butt shaking a lot.

“And I bet Lily that you weren’t ever coming out.” Ryke’s dark brows rise at his brother. “Thanks for betting on my fucking life.” Lo touches his chest. “I wanted to go retrieve you. Everyone else said no.” Rose sips water through a straw. “That’s untrue, Loren. I also voted to go get them.” “Huh,” Lo says, “I forgot about you.”

“Cake fixes everything, remember?” I smile through my tears. I remember. “Thank you,” I whisper. How silly, to think my sisters would forget about me. They haven’t. Not in a long, long time.

“Whatever road we fucking take, it’s going to be okay.” “How do you know?” I wonder. How can he feel this and why can’t I? “Because I fucking have you, Calloway. I don’t need anyone else.”

“I’m always kissing you in Paris, Dais. Every fucking time, I’m kissing you. There is nothing that’d change my course.”

By the time we reach the exit, someone familiar waits there. In an expensive black suit and sunglasses, his shoulder is propped confidently on the wall of a gift shop, ankles crossed. Surrounded by four bodyguards, he basks in the attention. No one hassles him, though they snap photos from faraway. “I was going to meet you by the exhibits, but I thought I’d watch how you two handle the crowds. I needed a reminder on what a clusterfuck looks like.” Connor Cobalt straightens off the wall and then nods to the gift shop. “It’s empty.” He goes inside, his bodyguards waiting by the door.

Though when you remember how much they do not mix. How much they never seem to gel. Two men who see the world in vastly different ways and vastly different colors. Forced to be around each other. Forced to cultivate something. I believe any name for Ryke and Connor would have to be a little wrong to be right. Whether they like it or not, it really fits. And their friendship isn’t as fragile or as breakable as they’d like to imagine. You see, I have this theory.

“I really wish you would consider waiting for Rose to be a surrogate,” he says. “It’s a goal that may bring you more happiness in the very end than these ones.” I joke, “You want your wife to carry Ryke’s baby?” “For you two, we’d do almost anything.”

“We’ve decided not to know the sex of the baby, so you all can start guessing.” “Depends on what you want,” Lo says first, “and then I’m going to bet on the exact opposite.” Rose rolls her eyes dramatically. “Juvenile as always, Loren.”

“Okay…” I’m lost on where she’s headed. Connor wears a knowing look, but everyone else seems just as confused as me. “Christ, don’t say it,” Lo interjects, “the baby has hooves.” “Babies,” Rose amends.

“You were going to let us bet on the sex when you’re having goddamn twins? That’s the dirtiest thing you two have done in a while.”

Wanna make wolf pups with me, Calloway? With you. With you. Only with you. Whether fate will be on our side. That’s another matter.

“Why’d you take so long?” Lo asks in an accusing tone. “We pulled over to fuck,” Garrison says dryly. Uh-oh. Ryke’s jaw hardens. Lo’s sharpens. I like when they’re on the same side of things. When nothing separates them. Not anger or pain or another person. Willow chokes on a breath. “We…didn’t.” “They know that,” Garrison tells her. Connor makes a pot of coffee. “It’s as though you want them to hate you.”

I see Garrison draw a heart on Willow’s cheek with icing. Then she draws a star on his.

“If you throw that anywhere near my outfit, you’ll quickly become my least favorite sister.” “Duly noted.” Then I toss the glob of mutilated cake…at her husband. It hits him square in the heart, his white button-down dirtied with chocolate cake and pink icing. Rose breaks into a grin. Connor hardly flinches. “Your happiness is showing.” “Good,” she says. “Even at my suffering?” His lips rise. “Yes.” She clutches his hand. He kisses her like he loves her even more for those words.

I glance over at the sound of a body hitting a cabinet. Garrison is pressed up against Willow, their eyes closed, and their lips meeting. He deepens the kiss, and her hands waver, unsure of where to go, until he lifts them up. Her palms settle on the back of head, his baseball hat tumbling to the floor. In the moment, they don’t notice that or us. It’s her first kiss. And I love that it’s on my birthday. Happiness reigns today. Ryke kisses my cheek, pulling my gaze onto him. I swing my arms around his shoulders, my smile still full and his eyes unnaturally light. Tomorrow it all could change. It probably will. But that dull ache in my heart has been stomped on for now. He lowers his head, and his lips graze my ear. “Happy birthday, Calloway.”

Beneath my lips, he mumbles, “I fucking love you.” I love you. I love you. I love you. My soul says in kind. I try to express this through my lips, but I want him to hear the words from me too.

“Hales are stronger than that.” Lo leans back in his chair. “Oh yeah, we’re indestructible.” He looks to our father. “You know what I think, Dad?” “What?” Wariness grips his darkened eyes as he waits for Lo’s punchline with the rest of us. “Hales are made of glass. We’re sharp, but we break easily.”

“He kind of flunked out of his last school,” Willow explains, “and he was supposed to graduate in May, but they’re holding him back until December since he’s missed more school than he’s attended.” Jonathan drums the table with two fingers. You know that saying: if you have nothing nice to say, don’t say it at all? Yeah, Hales don’t do that. “He sounds like a loser.” Lo pipes in, “I flunked out. Am I a loser, Dad?” “Of college,” he corrects his son. “And you’re a Hale, which means that I love you no matter what shitty thing you do or how apathetic you are.”

“You’re nineteen, and I know what nineteen-year-olds do since I raised one.” Willow pushes her glasses up. “I’m not anything like Lo was at nineteen.” “Cheers to that.” Lo raises his glass and downs his Fizz.

Dr. Yoshida pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I have some pamphlets and articles that I’d like you both to read up on.” My veins run cold, waiting for the blow. Ryke’s arm wraps around my shoulders. “These following months are going to be very important,” Dr. Yoshida says. “Getting pregnant was the first step, now carrying the baby to term will be your next big challenge.” Blood drains out of my head, like I’ve been hung upside-down. “I don’t understand.” Dr. Yoshida finally smiles. “Congratulations, Daisy, you’re pregnant.”

heart pounds, his words flowing through me and then floating away. I turn to Ryke, his reddened eyes never leaving me. He looks as overcome as I feel. And then I watch as tears slide down his cheeks. He’s crying.

“We’re going to have a baby,” I whisper, tears dripping down mine. He nods and smiles, wider than almost anytime ever before, and he says, “Yeah, Calloway. We’re going to have a fucking baby.”

The hairs on the back of my neck rise. Electrifying. He lights me up, and I’m completely and totally glowing tonight.