Thrive (Addicted #4)

by Krista Ritchie

“Loren Hale” has always been synonymous with: failure, fuck up, bastard, alcoholic, Lily Calloway’s boyfriend.

“Hale Co. produces baby products, and whoever believes in this lie will likely boycott us.” He doesn’t say: Because who wants a stroller made by a pedophile? He can’t utter the words. I rest my head on the wood, realizing that he couldn’t tell me at the pool because he couldn’t stomach it. He tried, but it wouldn’t come out. “No one will believe it,” I say under my breath. “I already made a statement. I said it didn’t happen.”

“No, son,” he says. “No.” A scream almost breaches my throat this time. I force it down, the pain swelling my stomach. “Why not?” “You’re twenty-three. You went to rehab. Your word means nothing to anyone because I could’ve manipulated you.” He pauses, more ice hitting glass. “This surpasses the both of us, Loren. It’s about the people around us, who can vouch for our relationship as father and son.” It’s over, he’s saying. No one understands us. He’s not the greatest father, but he’s never touched me like that. He’s never abused me—not in that way. And I hate…I fucking hate that this is going to be a part of me, for the rest of my life.

“The people close to us will vouch⁠—” “No,” he snaps, shutting me down. “Stop being delusional. They’re looking for answers from two people. They matter most. Not you, not me, not Greg Calloway or your girlfriend.” I swallow hard. “Who then?” “My bitch of an ex-wife and my other son.” Sara Hale. And Ryke Meadows. They both hate Jonathan. Can’t stand to look at him. Why would they ever testify in favor of him? It’s over. There is nothing we can do but live with this news.

I just want to drown. To numb the parts of me that can’t withstand this reality. I just want to go away for good. Maybe when I wake up my life will be different. Everyone will be happy. There will be no more pain. A scalding tear rolls down my cheek.

I reach into the cupboard behind me and find a bottle of Glenfiddich. Three-fourths full. I pop off the crystal stopper and put the rim to my lips. I hesitate for only one secon...

“Lo?” I whisper, walking further. And then I freeze, my eyes growing big. “Lo?” His limp hand sticks out from behind the island. I awaken with pure panic, my heart on a freefall. “Lo!” I rush to the space between the sink and the island, and I find Lo half supported by the cupboard, his head drooped to the side, his body slumped. I drop to my knees and touch his face, his eyes closed like he’s sleeping. I feel his slow pulse, beating sluggishly. Tears stream down my cheeks. “Lo, Lo…” What’d you do? What’d you do? I spot the whiskey bottle next to him, almost all gone. “LO!” I scream. He’s passed out. But this is different. He hasn’t had alcohol in so long. “Wake up!” I rattle his shoulders a little. Hopefully he’ll open his eyes. He’s not dead. He’s not dead. I lift underneath his arms. We’re going to the hospital, Loren Hale. Just you hold on. “You wait for me, okay?” I cry, trying to heave his body with mine.

“Connor!” Rose shouts, fear breaching her voice. It terrifies me ten times more. “I’m trying to get him to the car,” I tell her, my body trembling. “I’m taking him to…to the hospital.” “CONNOR!” Rose screams.

“Go start the car, Rose,” he orders, his voice stoic. But there is something behind Connor Cobalt’s eyes that I don’t like. “We have to go,” I say through a cascade of tears. I try to lift Lo again, but Connor squeezes into the small space. “I have him, Lily. Can you go with Rose?” He glances back at my sister, who is staring wide-eyed at Lo. “Rose.” “Whose bottle of Glenfiddich is that?” she asks in one breath.

I have seen Loren Hale passed out drunk, more times than I can even count. Rose hasn’t seen him like this. And even though something brutal terrorizes every nerve inside my body, I only think one thing: he needs help.

“Connor,” Rose says under her breath while he carries Lo, two paces behind us. I glance back, just to make sure Lo is still there. “You need to drive,” he tells her, admitting that he can’t. Rose nods quickly and takes a deep breath, her game face returning. She unlocks the car and heads to the front seat.

“It was mine,” Connor says. I can’t see his expression from the backseat, but he covers his eyes with his hand. Something he almost never does. “It was my alcohol.”

I can try to hold him as tightly as possible, but in the end, he can slip through my grasp at any moment. He can drift away without me. Please not today.

“You shouldn’t have had alcohol anywhere in the fucking house!” Ryke yells. “I brought it home after a company party. I didn’t think⁠—” “You’re living with an alcoholic, Connor! Do you not even care about him?”

“I know you’re upset⁠—” “You should be upset!” His voice shakes, and his shadow paces back and forth while Connor remains fixed in one place. “Do you even know what you did?!” While Ryke stares straight at Connor, there is the longest pause in the history of pauses. And then their forms collide, Ryke’s silhouette shoving Connor roughly. Something clatters to the floor while Connor defends himself, pushing Ryke back. My heart races, especially as an elbow or arm whacks into the curtain. I can’t see a thing, really.

“I trusted him,” Connor says in a low voice. “You can’t trust a fucking alcoholic,” Ryke growls.

“You know what I fucking think?” Ryke asks, fuming. “I think you get off being the superhero to my brother. I think you like the way he looks at you—like you’re invulnerable. While he stands beneath you, weak, looking for guidance and you take advantage of all of that⁠—” “Stop,” Connor says forcefully, and I can see his chest rising. “Tell me that I’m wrong,” Ryke says. “Tell me that you’re not destroying him.” “I love him,” Connor says with so much conviction. “I would never intentionally harm Lo.”

I hear the clap of heels. Rose stops midway into the room. “If I interrupted something, then maybe you two should realize that you’re fighting in front of my little sister. She has fucking ears, you know.”