Thrive (Addicted #4)

by Krista Ritchie

Life moves too slowly. Loren Hale told me that once.

For Lo—one minute on this Earth was a century. He was waiting for someone to end the pain of living. Today he told me: Life moves too quickly. After these two years, I have to agree. Life does move too quickly. And I can’t predict a second of it.

“A pack?” Ryke says in disbelief. “Men are fucking people too, Lily. Can you not talk about them like you’re ordering a case of beer? And…what the fuck?” I think he should have started with what the fuck. But I let that go. He adds, “Don’t tell me you used to look at men and only saw another dick to ride.”

“So because I’m having lunch with my brother and his fiancée, we’re obviously fucking.” He gives me a hard look. “Makes complete sense.”

“You’re making a dramatic scene over nothing,” I whisper-hiss. “Seriously, you’re gonna feel awfully stupid.” “Why are you whispering?” he asks. “And let me decide if it’s stupid or not, Lil.” I let out a defeated sigh. “Hot dogs,” I confess. “I wanted a hot dog for lunch.”

I remember his words so clearly. “This isn’t working, Lily,” he said, his eyes bloodshot. We wanted all of each other, but we were purposefully distancing ourselves so I wouldn’t become a crazy, compulsive beast. The silent, excruciating statement clung to the air: We should break up. We were both crying at that point, and I felt like it was the end, like someone gutted me.

But Lo hasn’t fed into my compulsions. Not once. “I’m okay now,” I say, more assuredly. I can do this. Sex starts to drift in the back of my mind. I hear the phrase: I don’t want to live if you’re not living with me. I can’t lose Lo. I just can’t.

Good. No one knows we’re having more sex. Not my sisters. Not his brother. Not Connor or even our therapist. We don’t think they’ll understand, and we’re both exhausted from all the voices in our lives. For once, we just want to do this together. Alone. Lily and Lo. Like it was before. Only better this time. We’re stronger now.

Someone yells, “Love triangle!” Oh my God. No, no, no. I push Ryke back with two firm palms, and he raises his hands in defense. Ryke sighs heavily, almost growling, and agitation hardens his jaw. “So now I can’t even be concerned about you?” “I’m not cheating on Lo with you.”

I glance between the two guys who’ve blocked my view of the diner with their bodies, literally creating a manly wall right in front of me. I’d find it sexy if I didn’t know what was behind them. And then someone else shouts, “Three-way!”

They’ve teamed up against me. I think I like when they’re united more than when they’re against each other. It gives me the confidence I need to trek over to the booth, sit down, and order the food I want. A hot dog.

“You’re either wearing a chastity belt or you put a spell on it so it won’t open from outside forces…Alohomora.” I freeze and give her a look. Did she…she did. She just tried to unlock it with a fucking spell. Her cheeks redden.

She cried on her eleventh birthday, and to make her feel better I got her drunk off my dad’s expensive scotch. I was a fucking idiot.

“Oh whatever, I know you try out spells when no one’s around.” I don’t deny it. I unhook my belt and she points. “Look, it worked,” she says with a smile.

“Sometimes I wonder if one of my fucking nannies dropped you on your head when you were a kid,” he says.

“Loren.” He says my name like I’m a complete fucking moron. “When you’re making something out of nothing, bad press is good press. But when you’ve already established a reputation, bad press can kill you.” He points at me. “You have nothing right now. Bad press is what you need. Use it. Don’t be stupid.”

“Also, word of advice. If you want to have blow jobs in your office, you really do need an assistant.” What the fuck? My face falls.

“Lily, try not to breathe so heavily next time. You give yourself away.” With that, he saunters out of my office and out of fucking sight. Just like my dad to have an exit as dramatic as his entrance.

If a woman wasn’t leaving with smudged makeup in the morning, then he was coming inside the house at 10 a.m.—fully clothed in his suit from the previous night. No shame. Ever.

I think I may have to pull her out. Which, oddly, wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to retrieve my girlfriend from under a desk.

“Lily,” I say her name but I can’t say anything else. My lungs constrict, and when I look at her, all I see is a girl trapped in her own world. Hell, she’s trapped in her own fucking body. She just needs time, but no one seems to be giving it to her. She actually turns her head to look at the space underneath the desk, like she’s contemplating returning. Don’t you fucking dare crawl back there, Lil.

But I’d take a Lily at a low over no Lily at all. That’s the truth.

Why does other people’s happiness have to feel like someone punching me in the gut?

“Physically, you’re here,” Connor replies. “But I prefer one-hundred percent attention from people.” Ryke lets out an unamused laugh. “You never change, do you? Still a narcissist.” I eat a chip and say, “I was going to call him an attention whore.” “I’m that too,” Connor agrees with a burgeoning grin. “So I love myself. Not many people can say the same thing—which is a shame.”

I don’t question Connor’s black button-down or his expensive watch or his wavy brown, perfectly styled, hair. The guy is put together, unlike my brother who seems to have rolled out of bed, disheveled dark brown hair, unshaven jaw and a University of Pennsylvania track T-shirt. I think I fit somewhere in between.

“Watch out for her nails. I wouldn’t want her to mess up your pretty face.” “I’m not afraid of Rose, but thanks for the concern, darling.” He winks. I touch my heart. “Anytime, love.”

“How about save it when I’m not around?” he says. “Homophobic?” I wonder, dunking a chip in salsa. I didn’t really peg my half-brother to be like that. “No,” Ryke snaps like that’s the furthest from the truth. “Just irritated.”

I think he’s just jealous of the relationship I have with Connor. It’s simple. We’re friends. But with Ryke—it just…it can’t be like that. There’s too much shit between us for it to be anything other than complicated.

SHUT THE FUCK UPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

Ryke openly checks the girls out, and they nearly shriek, their eyes bulging. “You’d think that you just gave them a ride in your Maserati,” I say to my brother. “I don’t own a Maserati.” It was a figure of speech. He stands up and tosses his napkin on the chair. “Give me five minutes.” Connor pockets his phone. “That long?” “Fuck off,” Ryke says easily before leaving to approach the girls.

“What a pickup line,” I say. “Damn, I missed the chance to use it on you.” When I first met him, I was sure he was asexual. Lily suspected that he was gay. Now, I honestly don’t even know what his sexuality is. To me—he’s just Connor. Maybe that’s the point.

Connor Cobalt is catnip for pussy and cock. He knows it and he almost just doesn’t care.

“ew” is what i just said out loud

Turns out Connor does have a type, and she happens to be strutting through the restaurant right now. I let out an audible groan when I hear her five-inch heels and see her piercing yellow-green eyes. But Rose has zoned in on one person. She raises her Chanel sunglasses to the top of her head, and then occupies Ryke’s seat next to Connor. He greets her with a few words in French, and she replies back in the same language. His arm slides around the back of her chair, his body leaned towards her in possession.

“I have ten minutes,” she says, flagging down the waitress. “I thought I’d stop by just to piss you off. It’s number three on my list of daily activities.” “Thought so,” I say. “Is filing your talons number four?” She shoots me a glare. I shoot one back. “Children,” Connor says, “can you fight while Rose isn’t near knives and Loren isn’t near tables that he can flip? I find cafeteria brawls wildly amusing, but not when I’m in the crossfire.”

“You’ve been saved,” Rose tells me like a villain in a bad action flick. She’s half-serious which is the stupid thing. “Thank you, Darth Vader.” She flips me off, just as the waitress approaches and clears her throat. Rose is caught with her middle finger in the air. I laugh—this is rich.

You left your shirt with me, you know. – Daisy Keep it. – Ryke What the fuck? I breathe heavily, dark emotions pooling into me from so many places. Some indistinguishable, others really clear. Daisy is only sixteen.

I return to the texts. I can just give the shirt back to you when we go riding. – Daisy Whatever you want. Just make sure to wear fucking boots this time and not flip-flops. – Ryke They were sandals. I also just found your shorts. I’ll wear those the next time I see you too ;) – Daisy Really? Just wear the fucking boots, Calloway. – Ryke You want me to ride naked? I usually don’t do that until after second base. – Daisy I’d rather you wore my shorts. – Ryke Does it turn you on when girls wear your clothes? – Daisy I’ll see you tomorrow, Dais. – Ryke See you tomorrow. – Daisy That was the newest text.

“Got her number and her address.” He pockets the napkin with the scribbled info. Then he reaches over and grabs his water that’s near Rose. “Does that girl know you just want to fuck her?” I ask, my voice coarse.

I try to breathe a sigh of relief, but this nagging devil on my shoulder says: Don’t believe him. Don’t trust him. Don’t love him. All he’ll do is hurt you.

“Okay.” I pass him his phone. “I believe you.” Don’t believe him. I’m going to. Because he’s my brother, and he won’t hurt me like that. And if he betrays me—then it’s my fault for letting him in.

Rose told me to burn the picture of me eating a hot dog, but it’s still inside one of those magazines. Burning one won’t rid them all. Anyway, I think Rose just likes fire.

Poppy strolls in next but freezes a couple steps inside. “Oh sorry.” She shields her eyes with her hand. To Rose, she says, “I told you we should have knocked again.” “Why? They’re not screwing. They can’t. It’s the middle of the day. Right, Loren?”

“Does no one knock around here?” Poppy asks. Ryke shrugs. “They shouldn’t be fucking. It’s the afternoon.” Rose pulls back her shoulders. “That’s what I said.”

“He’s an addict,” Rose says. “I don’t trust him with our sister.” “And she’s an addict,” Ryke retorts. “I don’t trust her with my brother.”

“No offense,” Ryke tells her. “You weren’t there when they were fucking enabling each other.” “No offense,” Poppy retorts, “but I’ve been here their whole lives. I’ve seen Lily when she’s sad and I’ve seen Lo when he’s angry.”

He can’t burst this rare joy. “You’re all going to dress up in costumes? For me?”

“I just have one question.” They wait for me to ask. The room calm and quiet, unlike before. When I talk, they all try to listen. That means… A lot. A whole lot. “Who is everyone dressing up as?”

“I want to say that Sam’s an asshole like the rest of us,” I tell him. “But I don’t think about him that much.”

“The Shirtless Wonder,” I banter. “With my sidekick.” I gesture to Ryke who hasn’t moved his ass off the chair. My brother raises his brows and sips his drink, sizing up Sam with a long once-over. Really Sam can be described in two words: Pretty boy.

My brother reads the label. “Lightning Bolt…with an exclamation point. What is this shit?” He inspects it like Sam handed him arsenic. And then Ryke pops the fucking tab and takes a sip. I just shake my head. How has he not died yet? “You didn’t know what it was, and yet you still drank it?” Connor says aloud. “Now I’m questioning our friendship.” “Good,” Ryke says, “because I question it every fucking day.”

“I remember now, why we’re friends.” Connor steps into his costume’s black pants. “Every man needs a dog.”