Long Way Down (Calloway Sisters, #4)

by Krista Ritchie

Her lips almost pulled up. “You think I’m sweet?” “I think you’re out of your fucking mind. And I’m going out of mine.” At that, I focused on the line, but I felt her smiling fully beside me.

If she wanted to dive headfirst, I was going to dive right behind her. She knew that was true.

So I pointed at the sun ascending in the horizon. Just as the darkened sky began to lighten. “Keep your eyes there.” Her green ones flickered to me before following my finger. Her pulse picked up speed. “And what happens when it disappears?” I would’ve loved to tell her that it never would. That no matter where we were the sun would always be present. But it wouldn’t have been true. The only thing we could count on was that the sun would rise again. “Wait for it to return,” I told her. She gave me the saddest smile I’d ever fucking seen. “That’s an awfully long time.”

It was then. That I fucking knew how much I really understood her. How much I related to the loneliness in her eyes. I felt closer to her in a way that I couldn’t articulate. It wasn’t physical. Or mental. It was spiritual, something I couldn’t shake. I nodded a couple times, and she practically radiated. As though she felt the air shift, brighter and lighter. I felt it too. And I fucking thought, thank God. Thank God the sun will rise again.

I meet his amber eyes, and he gives me another half-smile to show that he’s kidding. I never find the humor in these jokes, and maybe that’s why he keeps it up. Anyway, I’ve grown used to this fucking nonchalant offer of alcohol, and I’ve never seen him as healthy as he’s been in the past year. If we flashed back to Paris at that bar, I think the Loren Hale today would shake himself for taking a drink and giving me one. In fact, I know he would. If that’s not strength, then I don’t fucking know what is.

I wasn’t that upset to see Connor move down the street. It mostly sucks in early mornings when I’m in the gym. Connor used to spot me since Lo doesn’t wake up that early. Do I miss him nagging me for information about Daisy’s therapy sessions? No. Do I miss him quizzing me about literature and languages? No. Do I miss his constant need to make everything a fucking cock show? Absolutely-fucking-not. But yeah…sometimes I miss that motherfucker. Not today though. I shut the sliding door. The sun has already disappeared outside.

Ryke passes the bar counter and nears me. Six-foot-three with a darkened gaze, scruffy jaw, and brooding brows—he’s utterly handsome. The kind of handsome that screams danger, yet I know his heart is soft and warm and a place I always want to be.

I slowly turn to face Ryke. I detect the earnestness in his gaze, in his opened stance, and our pasts seem to rise from the grave. Two people who weren’t allowed to love each other. Two people who now unapologetically do.

He keeps going, he keeps moving, and he picks everyone up when they’ve fallen behind.

“I made your life crazy,” I whisper. He nods like it’s a good thing. “Yeah, Dais. You made it fucking crazy, and I’ve been so crazy in love with you.”

“I go two days without seeing you, Dais, and it fucking kills me. I never thought I’d love someone this way.” His hard eyes almost soften. “I never thought I could, but you’ve made me love my life more than I ever fucking have. I can’t even imagine spending the rest without you.”

He cups my face with both hands, tugging me closer to his body in a forceful, Ryke Meadows way that says listen to me, sweetheart. “I fucking love you.” Tears build in his eyes. I’m crying more, and his thumb brushes my cheeks. “All I need is you.”

He kisses me lightly, and as his lips travel to my ear, his unshaven jaw skims my cheek, tingling my senses. While wrapped in his arms, he murmurs deeply, “Will you fucking marry me?” My smile widens. “Yes.” There is no other answer in my heart than this one.

He opens the velvety black box and procures a delicate ring, not too large or too gaudy. I hold out my hand, shaking as he slides the gold band on my finger. It fits perfectly, and I bet that he asked Rose about my size. As I home in on the ring, I go quiet, stunned by the unique design. Rectangular diamonds form rays around a circular, yellow diamond. It’s the sun. And I’m speechless all over again. I keep nodding like this is perfect; this is really happening. I’m engaged to Ryke Meadows.

He’s much older, my protector and my best friend. He’s my future and my happiness.

Happiness. I sense it all around me. For however fleeting it may be, I grasp it now. I hang on and I ride this moment out.

I was just fucking worried that it’d go wrong somehow—that something would ruin it, and I wanted this moment to be perfect for Daisy. I wish I could give her a million perfect fucking days.

She reaches out and takes a chocolate from the opened package, eating it whole. It’s cuter than anything, and I can’t help but think—I’m going to have this for fucking ever.

I know it’s the riskiest option—but when have I ever shied from a little danger? Even thinking it, I’m certain that this will be one of the biggest risks of my life. And I’m not even racing down a road or diving off a cliff.

Before I close this chapter and settle with my fate, I want to follow what’s in my heart. No playing it safe. I want to try. I want to run headfirst at a hundred-and-fifty miles per hour without braking. I want to take this risk.

Ryke crosses his arms, not playing around about this. My grip tightens, fisting his shirt. “One-hundred-and-fifty miles per hour. No brakes.” His eyes redden. Our gazes are locked, all of our experiences together rushing through us, every moment where we kissed death but never tasted it. Every time we lived life so terribly—so fully. And then he snatches my hairband, my brown locks tumbling out of a bun. His jaw glides across my cheek, his hand protectively on the back of my head, his breath warming my ear. And he says, “I’m right beside you, Calloway.”

“Your beauty is terribly distracting.” He gives me the sexiest stern look that I devour with greedy eyes. “Yeah?” he says deeply. “Yeah,” I echo, “all the princesses in the land have evacuated their castles in search of this rugged blacksmith who has these hands…” I lift up his hands in mine, his palms calloused from all the rocks he climbs. “…these manly hands that they want slowly stroking their sensitive skin. You’ve unintentionally emptied kingdoms, Ryke Meadows. How do you feel about this?” His rough exterior hardly changes. Even as he says, “I’ve already found my fucking princess.” “I bet she’s proud to be with a man like you.”

I’m about to bridge the distance between us, but her attention plants to me, on my boxer-briefs. Her smile slowly elevates, and her pace quickens until she’s right in front of me, my hand gently sliding across her waist. And she says, “You know your ass says, Bat Girl, right?” I didn’t. “That do it for you, Calloway?” “It does a lot of things for me.” Her silly fucking smile widens and she wags her brows suggestively, teasing about sex, even when she’s not in the mood for it. Most of our friendship was flirting without an endgame. So I’m used to it in our relationship, and I don’t want it to go away.

The girl never stays still, never stops. I shake my head. I love her, every minute of the day, and she doesn’t even realize, doesn’t even see how much.

Hey, little brother, I think before I face a twenty-five-year-old with amber daggers for eyes and steel blades for a jaw. Dressed in all black with features that fucking kill, he could be the devil’s son. In some ways, he is.

“You’re so rude! I hate all of you! I hate you so much! We deserve better than you!” “I agree,” Lo tells the girl. “Lo,” I start. He continues, “You deserve better than all of us, but you were the one who fell in love with us.” He takes a step forward, and I grab his shoulder. “Don’t fall in love with people who are human. We’re going to disappoint you in the end.” She cries more. “I hate you…”

Then he meets my eyes, and I see the confidence beneath his daggered amber irises, ones that seem ready for some kind of war.

I know this promise is lofty and seemingly impossible, but I’d do anything for her, for my family. Lily once told me that she’d “go down with the Raisy ship”—and even though I rolled my eyes, it’s how I feel every day of my life. I’d go down with Daisy, to the bitter fucking end.

Daisy stares out at the horizon, her arms over Willow and Lily’s shoulders, all standing on the boulder, picturesque and beautiful. Her smile lights up the fucking sun. There is nothing happier in the world than this moment.

I’ve never actually seen her admit to having cravings. Not outright. Not this direct or honest. Not to a room filled with Connor, Lo, and me. I see her fucking strength. Even if she feels like shit right now. I see it.

My fiancé is a stone statue. Not Adonis. Ryke is the wild boar that killed the godliest god in Greek mythology, slaying all handsome things.

Please don’t be fucking panicked. Watching Rose crumble is like having the world physically assaulted by meteors and comets, impaling unpredictably, infrequently and fucking violently. It usually comes at the hands of some other force—and that’s what fucking tears at me the most.

I drop to my knees in front of the only girl I’ve ever loved. And I live in the fucking moment with her. However short, however long we have.

“A world where there are five of us, instead of six, will never be a happy one.”

But I sit here, and I know. It’s not my greatest love. It’s not why I woke up today. It’s not what will grind at my bones tomorrow. It won’t push me to go in a year. When I turn my head and meet Daisy’s glassy eyes in the archway, she gives me a weak, tearful smile in support. She means more to me—our life together means more to me. I shouldn’t have to quit the thing I love to prove this.

“Not because of a fucking theory. I can’t think of a place I’d rather be right now than with you. Truth is, I can’t think of a place I’d rather be in fifty fucking years than next to you.”

Rose looks not amused, her black manicured nail pointed at Lily. “If my husband is an alien, yours was born in the underworld.” “Well,” I say, “Loren Hale is smoking hot.” Lily points at Rose. “Ha!”

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.

“Calm down,” Lo tells me. “I am.” I’m not even close. “Really? Then why are your hands in fists?”

“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. Above these people. His company. His money. I never, not in a million fucking years, thought I meant that much to him.

My chest rises in a livelier inhale, thankful for Ryke. My pillar. My wolf. My world. My life.

I laugh when a bowl of cereal is placed in front of Ryke. He gives his brother a look. “You can’t complain. This is what you always eat, bro.” “I eat fucking eggs too…” And just as he says it, a plate of eggs sets beside his bowl. “You were saying?” Years ago, Lo couldn’t say one good thing about Ryke. Not out loud at least. Now he loves him enough to order his favorite breakfast foods. He knows him well enough to get it right. This means so much to Ryke. I can see it in his eyes, and he just nods at Lo, unable to speak.

“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 break into heavy tears because I imagine that scenario—where he never chooses me. It drives a cold wedge through my ribs. He holds me tightly, hand pressed caringly to the back of my head while I cry in his chest. “I’m always kissing you in Paris, Dais. Every fucking time, I’m kissing you. There is nothing that’d change my course.”

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. 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. Relationships that take the most effort and the most time become the mightiest, most resilient bonds in the end. So if this theory proves right, their friendship will be the strongest of them all.

“Look, love,” Lo says to Lily. “Two-thirds of us have sex tapes, and we’re not one of them.”

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.

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.

But the officer is wrong about one thing. Sex with Ryke—in this car, at that particular time, at this particular place—was totally and utterly priceless.

Lo motions between Jonathan and Willow. “How’d this go?” He diverts the conversation. Thanks, Lo. “I’m guessing good. I don’t see any tears.” Willow gives him a weak smile. Our dad opens a sugar packet. “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.”

“Yeah, Lo actually mentioned staying away from alcohol. He said there’s no such thing as just one beer for people like us.” My brows scrunch at Lo like you did? He shrugs, more sheepishly than usual. I can’t help but fucking smile. I’m proud of you too. He rolls his eyes at me.