Thrive (Addicted #4)

by Krista Ritchie

Channel your inner Rose. Tears are for babies and losers. I wipe my eyes. I suck at being Rose.

they’re being dramatic and trying to make you feel bad.” “It’s working,” I mutter. “Well, get thicker skin, Lily.”

“Next time a reporter gets on your nerves, you can write a nasty email but send it to me instead. I’ll even pretend to be the reporter and reply to you.” I have the best sister in the world. Hands down.

It would be fine, but everyone knows why I’m separating myself from him. I can feel their judgy thoughts in my own head. I can’t believe she wants to have sex right now. Ryke’s glare says it enough.

I want to touch him—not for sex. Just to let him comfort me without needing anything else. How do I know if I’m strong enough for that?

My heart tears apart in a million different ways, conflicted beyond terms.

But my head revolves around him, and I find myself trying to watch him through my peripheral vision. Maybe I can catch him looking at me. I notice everything. How rigid he sits. When he squirms or adjusts himself on the chair. How he keeps his hand on his mouth, resting it there and hiding the definition in his jaw. I notice the way he glances at me every few seconds, the same clandestine looks I give him.

People make mistakes every day, some small and some big, but I just wonder when I’ll stop making them. Or is this a lifelong thing? Do we all just wander through life, fucking up and trying to put ourselves back together only to continue on again? Are we the accumulation of our mistakes? A part of me regrettably thinks so. My failures have defined me more than my triumphs.

But we’re still filming while the show plays on television. I think it’s just going to make everything crazier.

“Are you constipated?” “No.” I relax my face. “Then what the fuck are you doing?” He’s so mean. “Exactly,” I say, not making much sense.

“I’ve been lifting weights, remember?” I flex to show him my bicep muscle (still tiny, but a bigger tiny than before). The cameras go wild behind me, flashing crazily, and I immediately drop my arm and roast. “You mean that dinky weight that Ryke bought you?” Lo asks.

“I can’t look,” I whisper, my hands flying to my face. Lo keeps his arm around my shoulders. Five seconds. “No matter what happens,” Lo says, his lips brushing my ear, “I’ll always be here, Lil.”

Lily squirms on the leather couch. And then her hand lowers towards her jeans. She retracts quickly and then checks over her shoulder. She looks straight into the lens, at the viewers, and stuffs a pillow in her face. The bottom of my stomach falls. I didn’t realize…it’s been that hard for her while I’m at my office during the day. “Lil,” I whisper. She drops my hand, her palms pressed to her face. I’m not sure if she’s even watching through her fingers anymore. Lily lies on the couch, her laptop on her legs. She looks around and then shuts her computer. Her hand descends towards her jeans but remains on top of the fabric. She reaches the place between her thighs.

Lily rubs up against a kitchen chair. She flushes when she notices what she’s doing. Lily rubs her pelvis against the counter. I feel so fucking sick.

“I’m not coming out,” she murmurs, her voice cracking. “Don’t make me come out, Lo.” I place my hand on her head and stare down at her through my collar. “Stay there as long as you want, love.”

Any eyeball that pins on her—I meet with the hatred that turns me cold and dark. I could kill right now. It’s not a lie or an exaggeration. It’s a feeling.

“You can go if you⁠—” “No,” he says forcefully. “I’m not leaving you.” His weighted words hit me hard. He stares at me like they mean more than just this single moment. I’ve been abandoned by family before.

But Ryke is still here. This guy…he’s too good for me. I don’t deserve someone like that in my life.

“I’m sorry.” “Don’t be,” I say. “You didn’t pull me into the bathroom or the car, Lil.” You stayed strong.

“The things we bury,” I say under my breath, “have a way of coming back to haunt us.”

“What do you think of Scott?” Savannah asks. “I find him comparable to a little teenager jimmying the lock of my house. He’s nothing more than a petty thief, trying to take what’s mine. Is that honest enough for you?” “And what about Rose?” “What about Rose?” I frown. He said her name like she means nothing to him. “Do you love her?” Savannah asks. “Love is irrelative to some.” “And is it to you?” His fingers rest on his jaw in mock contemplation, and he smiles self-confidently. For the first time, his smile really rubs me wrong. “Yes,” he says. “Love holds no meaning in my life.” What…the fuck. The screens fade to black. That was it.

Rose plucks another champagne glass from a server’s tray and relaxes her back against Connor’s chest. He holds her in place since she’s buzzed. I can’t believe she’s okay with everything he just said in the show. “So was that the real Connor Cobalt?” I ask, sliding my arm around Lily’s shoulders.

“So you’ve never loved anyone?” I question. “Not another girlfriend, your mom, your dad or a friend?” I don’t want our relationship to be a game. I knew, in the beginning, that he was just collecting me like he did everyone else. He was upfront about it, which was why I liked him. I had money and connections, so that’s why he befriended me. But I thought we’d grown beyond that. Hadn’t we? “No,” he says. “I’ve never loved anyone, Lo. I’m sorry.” Rose points at me, her glass of champagne in hand. “Let it go, Loren. I have.”

“She doesn’t need your protection,” he tells me. Rose sways in his arms, tipsy. “She knows who I am.” “So you’re okay with that then?” I ask Rose. “He’s going to fuck you, and then he’s going to be out of here. Does that make you feel good, Rose? You’ve waited twenty-three goddamn years to lose it, and you’re going to give it to a guy who can’t even fucking admit that he loves you.”

He is in love with her. For once, in his life, Connor is blind.

That’s the funny thing right: He’ll probably never love me.

Shut up vagina. Now I’m speaking to my vagina. Great.

“Lily…” he breathes shallowly. It’s a warning but why does he sound so sexy? His concern is turning me on? Dear God.

I’ve never been into the whole foot fetish thing.

ITS FHE WAY HES SO DEAD SERIOUS

“Are these models really turning you on right now?” I grow even hotter than before. Technically Loren Hale is turning me on the most. “Hey,” Lo cuts in. “You don’t know what she’s going through.” Ryke raises his hands in defense. “I just don’t see how these guys wearing sweater vests and checkered shirts could arouse any girl, not just her.” Lo thinks about it and nods. “Point taken.”

“Hickies,” he says. Knew it. “You’ll probably see them on next week’s episode.” Lo groans even more and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why does she even have a boyfriend?” “The sex,” I blurt out. They both stare down at me like what the fuck? Their angered, dark scowls could kill, looking like brothers. I realize that sex was the wrong thing to say.

Lo covers his face with his hand. “This is more than I ever wanted to hear.” Ryke crosses his arms over his chest. “In Cancun, she said that she had an orgasm during sex, remember?”

Daisy. I smile—the kind of smile that I can’t restrain, that hurts my cheeks a little bit. She’s outfitted in a gray dress with expensive, elegant fabric and a yellow belt, more high fashion than commercial. Her long, long blonde hair hangs to her waist, the ends wavy. At seventeen, she walks like a mature, powerful woman with poise beyond my capabilities. Her hips sway; each towering high heel steps in front of the other. Her gaze is dead-locked ahead of her, seduction blazing in her red lips and focused eyes. The flashbulbs don’t cause her to blink or to falter. My young sister moves like the world is being created beneath her feet.

My sister deserves romance, the red roses kind with chocolates and epic orgasms. Ryke will give her the best one-night stand of her life and leave her with a broken heart. It’s one thing that Lo and I mutually fear.

Ryke clenches the side of the chair like he’s restraining himself from not standing up and storming the runway. I imagine him walking backwards as he talks to her, desperately trying to convince my sister to do something she loves and not what our mom tells her to.

“You can’t force her to quit,” I remind him in a soft whisper. “Her job means something to our mom.” “She hates it,” Ryke says back to me. “Can’t you fucking see that?” “We’re supposed to do things we don’t like sometimes,” I say, thinking about the reality show, my impending June wedding. “What for?” Ryke asks. “Our family.”

Maybe one day he’ll realize how far we’re all willing to go. For the people we love most.

“Yesterday,” I say, “Scott handed Lily a script that told her to hump a pillow.” It hurts to breathe fully, emotions barreling into me. “Who does that?”

“Don’t let any motherfucker come into your life and destroy what belongs to you. Not your women, not your home, not your money or your career. You protect all of that, you hear me?” He sets a firm hand on my shoulder. He may offer backwards advice for me, but he’s always been there. That’s more than any mother of mine can say.

I don’t want him near Lily. She’s like a daughter to me.”

The worst part about being the underdog: I never win until the last minute. So I dig and claw and scrape, struggling in hope that in the final act, I’ll rise above. But what happens if I never do?

“I’m not being clear enough?” “Ummm…” My mind has blanked. Flat-lined. I am brain dead. He stirs me back to life by grabbing my hand and placing it right over his pants. On his erection. “Do we have an understanding now?” Oh yeah. We’re fucking. Or making love. Both. Maybe both.

“Well, you came to me for sex. You’re the one undressing me. You’re practically begging me to fuck you.” “Am I?” Even with his lips together and flat, he’s still smiling. I see it in his eyes. I nod wildly. “Oh yeah. The tables have turned, Loren Hale. This is a monumental day. You are aroused before me.” I grin.

I no longer attempt to rock my body into his, not when I’m white-knuckling his biceps and holding on for dear fucking life. His low grunts fill my ears and send my body over the edge. I feel myself riding the steep mountain to my peak. “Lo,” I choke. “I can’t…hold on…”

Lily darts beside me with a high-pitched scream, steals the bottle out of my hands and chucks it at Scott. The bottle, still in the bag, makes a loud impact on the wall beside his head. He jumps back in surprise, the glass shattering and whiskey dripping down the wallpaper. I’m so stunned that I can hardly move. Did Lily just…yeah, she did. “Don’t you dare give him alcohol like it’s nothing,” Lily says.

“You shouldn’t touch the alcohol since you’re taking Antabuse.” I grimace, but she can’t see my expression, her back turned to me. I haven’t exactly told her that I stopped taking the meds. After the premiere of Princesses of Philly, everything got crazy. Superheroes & Scones has been packed, more and more manuscripts are sent to my office, Rose bugs me to bug Lily about the wedding, and then Scott—I started running on empty.

So yeah, I flushed the pills that physically make me ill if I relapse. At the time, it felt like I unstrapped a fifty-pound weight from my ankles. Now I’m just terrified to see the disappointment in Lily’s face if she finds out—or worse, she’ll blame herself. Like it was her fault for not motivating me more or not realizing it sooner. I’ll tell her. Not today.

“Morning, beautiful,” he banters like nothing has changed between us. He saunters to the bathroom and holds open the door for me. “After you.” Screw the shower. I walk to the stairs with flexed arms and rigid shoulders. “Lo,” he calls out, sounding conflicted.

“Wow, Connor Cobalt can feel?” I quip. “I thought his insides were all IP addresses and router cables.”

“I do what I want to do. You want to know the truth? He told me to stay out of his relationship with you because he’s afraid I’ll do more harm than good. He’s so scared to lose you, and you can’t see it because Connor won’t let you.” I process everything she says. “Why is that?” “He enjoys acting like he’s invincible. It’s infuriating, but we all have our faults, even him.”