Long Way Down (Calloway Sisters, #4)

by Krista Ritchie

“My wolf.” She’s my fucking sun, and even though she’s set tonight, she means nothing less to me. I love her just as fucking madly.

“Champagne?” he offers. “No,” I say pretty fucking rudely. He must know that my little brother is a recovering alcoholic, and still, he was willing to give him a drink. Lo sets a firm hand on my shoulder. “Pardon my brother, we both suffer from the same hereditary disease called being a dick. Assholes Anonymous couldn’t even cure us.” He gives him a half-smile that says, good fucking bye.

Why can’t you be okay with him like Connor is? I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact that he could apologize to Connor, for hurting him, but he never apologized to me. Not once in his life has he uttered those two words to my fucking face. I’m sorry, son. For casting you out like a bastard. I’ve never even seen his remorse for what he did.

Connor is vouching for me after I punched a man at his party, meaning that he values me above his reputation. Above these people. His company. His money. I never, not in a million fucking years, thought I meant that much to him.

Frederick told me the mind is fragile. For as quickly as it can be broken, it can take a lifetime to be repaired. I may never truly let go, but instead of being crippled each time I’m swept back, I’ve found a way to grow stronger.

“Will you scream with me?” Without hesitation, Ryke easily climbs onto the counter. He has to lower his head to avoid hitting the ceiling. He stares down at me, his hands sliding against my cheeks. My chest rises in a livelier inhale, thankful for Ryke. My pillar. My wolf. My world. My life. Strongly, he says, “You ready, Calloway?” “Yes,” I breathe. And we both scream. All the darkness rippling out of me.

continue shaping my napkin flower. “Should I make a rose or a tulip?” “This shouldn’t be a real question,” Rose snaps. “Of course a rose,” I say with sincerity. “Always a rose.”

No one says anything, and only Lo is eating. “You all can eat. It might take a while…” I trail off as a waiter appears, a plate in his hand. The minute it rests in front of me, I start crying. It’s a slice of chocolate cake. Lily scoots against my side and she says, “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.

“If time reversed itself,” I wonder, “and you knew from the very beginning I might be infertile—would you even kiss me in the stairwell at Paris?”

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

Now you have a ship name.” Connor wears 0% surprise. I smile at him. “You know it, don’t you?” Ryke’s brows furrow. “What the fuck is it?” “CoKe,” Connor answers in a flat tone, but mild annoyance crosses his face. Probably at the prospect of sharing anything with Ryke. Ryke repeatedly shakes his head. “Unfuckingbelievable.” Coke, like Pepsi, has always been Fizzle’s nemesis, and in a way, it’s kind of wrong that Ryke and Connor have a ship name based on our family’s competitor.

Relationships that take the most effort and the most time become the mightiest, most resilient bonds in the end.

“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.”

connor is my no.1

“Bets are open,” Rose declares and gestures the wand from her chest to Connor’s. “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.”

He pushes me down against the couch, pinning me there. I hear his unspoken words, wanna fucking wrestle, Calloway? Wanna do something fucking crazy, Calloway? 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.

“Congratulations, Daisy, you’re pregnant.”

My 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.

“Am I showing?” I ask through the noise of water beating the tiles. His hand slides across my abdomen. At six-weeks, there’s not much of a bump, but we had our first ultrasound yesterday and heard the heartbeat of our baby. So far baby Meadows is alive and healthy.

Ryke and I already asked our family to donate to our favorite charities instead of buying us wedding presents.

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

image. “Is that Rose?” In a slinky red dress, Rose has her arms crossed, standing and glaring on the fourth stair behind me. “Who else would I be?” Rose snaps. “The devil,” Lo comments.

Rose fixes her yellow-green eyes on Lily. “I look angry because I broke my heel that night.” “Maybe thirteen-year-olds shouldn’t be wearing heels,” Lo retorts. “Maybe twenty-six-year-olds named Loren Hale should shut up,” Rose says and then whips her hair over her shoulder like I slayed you.

All of my sisters start talking over each other to defend me, their voices muddled together. I can’t pick apart words, but Rose is pointing her finger, yellow-green eyes pierced at our dad. “Hey!” Ryke yells, cutting into the cacophony. Everyone immediately quiets. “Let Daisy fucking talk.”

It’s just Ryke on a hammock. It’s just me sitting beside him. Our baby in our arms. Happy.

“I’m so sorry, Daisy,” Sam immediately says. “I thought—I don’t know why—but I thought you already told them.” He seems really upset and guilt-ridden. Lo says, “Don’t be surprised if we all put coal in your stocking next Christmas.” I laugh.

Connor interjects, “Being ranked in Forbes 30 Under 30 is a rare and prestigious achievement. It deserves all the fanfare.” Rose starts to smile. Connor says something to her in French, and I kneel next to Rose’s chair and whisper, “What’d he say?” Rose glances at me like why the hell are you on the dirty ground? I’m on the grass, but to Rose, the cement, the dirt, the grass—it’s all the same. I bat my eyes at her, hoping she’ll tell me. “Please—” She whispers back, “He said that he’s proud of me.”

The photoshopped pic includes a yellow circle drawn in after the fact—right around Connor’s crotch. The headline: Connor Cobalt’s Penis Is Too Big For His Pants. I bust out laughing. Lily and Willow instantly join in, my stomach in stitches.

“You’re not really that big?” Sully asks like come on, man, give it to me straight. Connor says, “Would it really be a surprise if I was?” “No,” about four people say, most of us under the same conclusion. Connor Cobalt is a god among men so he might as well have a godly penis too.

“So wait.” Sully collects his thoughts for a second and then points at Ryke. “This happened to you too?” Ryke has to crane his head over his shoulder to see Sully behind him. “Yeah, only I was taking Nutty for a fucking walk outside the gated neighborhood.” “In drawstring pants,” Lo adds. “No underwear. Python in full view.”

Lo gestures from his older brother, then to me. “I’ve heard that people spend a really long time finding their soul mates.” I squeeze Lily’s shoulder. She’s been in her soul mate’s arms since she was little. “It took you two long enough, didn’t it?” Lo says. “No thanks to me.” He pauses. “But I want you two to know—from the bottom of my black, decaying heart—I love you both, and the only perfect world has Ryke standing beside Daisy and Daisy standing beside Ryke. Anything less is fucked up. Remember that, will you?”

He’s staring down at me, this man who’d drop to his knees if I asked him to. Who’d take care of me. Never abuse me. Never pressure me or take advantage of me. He’s treated me with more respect than I can quantify.

My wolf. My everything. He’s a breath away from my lips as the song fades. And very softly, he says, “I’m so fucking in love with you.”

“I’m so happy I could scream.” His lips curve upward. “Then scream, Calloway.” I howl instead. When he joins in, when he howls with me, my world is absolutely, totally and entirely complete.

Today, of all days, I want to prove her wrong. I want her to feel happiness without anything else attached. Just pure unadulterated joy. Let me give her that.

She’s beautiful and has more self-confidence than I ever remember her possessing. I’m proud of you, Lil.

I’m not shutting my eyes. I’d rather die inside this moment than miss a single part.

The glimmer in her green eyes, the lightness in her gait, the overwhelming smile stretching her scar—this is the look of someone who’s free. Somewhere along the way, she found her voice. Somewhere along the way, she found her stride. I’m just the grateful fucking guy who was given the chance to stand by her side. Through it all.

Something about her choice to return to the shade she had when we met—it sends my whole fucking soul on an ascent. The nostalgia of first love—for both of us—flies to the forefront. Times where we raced faster and farther. Times where we slowed down with one another. And I see us in the sky. I see us in the sun and clouds. In the grass and trees. I see us in everything.

“He’s your best childhood friend.” “Summer camp friend,” I corrected her. To which Sully scoffed and said, “Dude, we’re best friends.” He nodded to Daisy. “He doesn’t believe me whenever I say it—thinks that I’m too good for him or something.”

“So I took a poll yesterday from your friends and family.” He wears a goofy fucking smile. I shake my head at him like what the fuck did you do? “I figured something out—but I guess I already knew it.” He nods to both of us. “You two have sacrificed a lot for the people you love. So now, right now, in whatever time that’s left—this is your time to be happy. We’re all here ready to watch you.” He pauses. “Not in a pervy way.” We all laugh.

“The simple answer,” she says, “would be the moment you dove in after me, but back then I hadn’t discovered the depth of your compassion, how much you truly love living life, and how we seem to fit, even when we shouldn’t.” I pull her closer, my hand lost in her hair, and I hang onto her words. She clutches onto my biceps. “I knew. I knew at the Alps when I ran so fast outside in deep snow. Barefoot. Barely clothed. You’d done so much for me before then.”

“You always cared about me. You were always there for me, but this time felt different. You wrapped your coat around me, picked me up in your arms, and said, ‘When life gets fucking hard, you can always turn to me. You need to run? I’ll run with you, Calloway. Just put on some fucking shoes first.’” She smiles, tears streaming down her cheeks, and I feel another one roll down mine. “I realized then that I’d never want to be vulnerable with any other man but you. Someone who understands me. Respects me. Loves me—so wildly. You were the only one. You are the only one.”

“I knew back then, Daisy Petunia Calloway, because you were the only girl I’d ever met that was as deeply caring and as fucking lonely as me. If anyone was going to fill my heart, it was you. Only you.”

And I vow, “Wherever you go, I’ll go.” As long as I’m alive, this will never fucking change.

He has me. He has me in his arms. In his soul. And he’s not going to let go. He never has.

I’m in Peru. I married the love of my life. I’m about to climb towards paradise. My gaze drifts towards the sun. I’m alive.

“…Ryke,” he chokes, tears slipping out of his eyes. “No.” My knuckles whiten on the rope. “What do you fucking mean?” I know what he means. “…leave…me,” he cries. He’s crying, his chin trembling. My nose flares, my eyes clouding. I shake my fucking head. “I can’t.” I can’t leave him here, even if it’ll save my life.

“On transit to the hospital,” the radio says, “Ryke Meadows was pronounced dead.” Price shuts off the news. I cry into my soaked hands, agony rippling through my veins. He’s gone. “No,” I cry louder, my throat raw, my lungs screeching in pain. “He can’t…” He can. He’s gone. No, no.

Some say that you don’t know what a person means to you until they’re gone, but I’ve always been aware of the extraordinary impact Ryke Meadows has on people around him. And on me. I fell in love with his heart. Soulfully caring. Selfless. Generous and kind.

“Daisy,” he forces. Wet. Something’s wet on my legs. “Drive faster!” Connor starts to shout, his voice unnaturally loud. Lo touches my forehead, almost tenderly, and then yells, “Fucking drive!” My head lolls, my eyes rolling, and before everything turns black, I look down. And see the gush of bright red blood between my legs.