Thrive (Addicted #4)

by Krista Ritchie

“I fucked up,” he says. “No,” I tell him, as sternly as I can. “You didn’t.” “You don’t know what I did.” “It doesn’t matter.” I wish I could hug him. Why do we have to be so far apart? And then he says with a broken voice, “I’m never going to defeat this.” “Lo,” I breathe, licking my dry lips. “You’re forgetting something.” He exhales deeply. “What’s that?” “We’re in Earth-616. This isn’t an alternate universe.” I clutch the phone tighter, tears falling. “We’re going to have our happy ending. It’s just going to take us a little while to get there.” He told me that once. When I hit a low. Now he just needs to remember his own words.

Very softly, he says, “I wouldn’t be here without you.” It is bigger than an I love you. It is a declaration that solidifies what I’ve known for so long. We aren’t connected by our addictions. But by our childhood. Souls fused together from the very, very start.

He whispers something to her, his lips brushing her ear, not discreet about it. They’ve never been. And then she smiles brightly, her fingers falling to the band of his jeans. Their embrace takes me aback, like a swift kick. And it’s in this single moment, that I know for certain, they’re together.

I don’t need him to be a twenty-four-seven sober coach. I need him to be my brother.

A cloud rolls over the sun, and I say, “I just wish you could love me more than you hate him.” I turn my head to the side, facing my brother’s mostly hardened features that rarely break. My eyes glass again. “Is that even fucking possible?” He lets out a deep breath. “I love you, you know that.” He touches my leg in comfort.

“I fell in fucking love with her,” he finally explains. “It hurt to be away from Daisy. It hurt to watch her with other guys. Everything fucking hurt, and I didn’t want to live with that pain anymore. I fucking couldn’t.” He takes a deep breath. “I can’t tell you when it became unbearable, but it did.” I scrutinize him for a while, letting every single syllable sink in. It hurt to watch her with other guys. I spent years being the best friend of a sex addict. I spent years loving a girl who opened her door to every guy but me. And there isn’t one day that I would wish that kind of torment on my brother or a friend. Not one. So I say, “I understand, more than anyone, how painful it is watching someone you love be with other people.”

His expression—it’s beyond just caring for her. I remember him sympathizing with Daisy some years ago, in Cancun; I remember Ryke explaining how they were raised by similar kinds of mothers. But this is empathy reserved for one other person in your life, the type that some people may never even feel. It’s just written all over his face. No matter how weird it seems, this is how it’ll be. I’m not going to separate two people that love each other. I wouldn’t intentionally do that. When he focuses back on me, he speaks again. “You can leave me here,” he says passionately, “but I’ll find a way back. I can’t leave her, and I won’t leave you, no matter how hard you fucking push me out.”

His eyes bleed with this distraught strength, an oxymoron that I can understand. I’ve had that same look in context of Lily. “How much did it hurt?” I ask. “Did what hurt?” “Watching her with other guys.” He flinches back like air escapes him. After a short pause, he says, “It felt like someone was drowning me in fucking salt water and lighting me on fire.” I almost give him a weak smile. “Same.” I steady my breaths. “I need some time.” To get used to them. Together. Christ. It’s fucking weird. “But I’m not going to hit you again. So revel in that.”

He rolls his eyes. “Can’t you take a compliment and not turn it into a character assassination of yourself?” “Maybe someday,” I say. But not today. I pat his shoulder and then drop my hand. I’m more at peace with him now than I have been in years. It took blood and a hot desert, but we reached this place. I can almost breathe again.

Not that long ago, Ryke free-solo climbed three rock formations in Yosemite without falling. All I wanted was for him to survive, and he looked tired but accomplished when he reached the bottom. I was proud of him.

I wince, not liking when she cries, at all. I already sense a change in my relationship with Daisy since she’s become my brother’s girlfriend. She used to be like a little sister to me, but my obligation to her now feels larger when Ryke isn’t here. Like I have to be a force that keeps her safe when he’s gone. He’d do the same for Lily, and it’s a role that I’ve easily accepted.

I’ve been so wrapped up in my own problems that I couldn’t see what was happening. I cannot lose her. Not for a moment. Not for second. She is the only reason why I’m still living this life.

Our love is rare. It’s one I can’t abandon, even if I tried. When she screams, an identical one rips through me. When she cries, my world rains with grief. When she loves, I truly, truly fly. I have never wanted anyone else but Lily.

My lips are close to her forehead as she stares at her hands, like they’re a gateway out of this world. I take them in mine, lacing our fingers together. One at a time. If she wants to leave, I’m coming with her.

“It’s okay, Lil.” I never meant for her to bear a burden this heavy alone. Not one we should’ve carried together. “It’s not,” she says, wiping her cheeks and then staring up into my eyes. Her big round green ones are glassy and reddened. “You don’t want a baby.” No. I have never wanted a baby. But met with this reality, I only want to do right by Lily. I just want to fix every wrong that I have ever made. I am ready, so fucking ready, to defeat this. To never face these demons again. I am done feeling sorry for myself.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have kids, but we have the means to raise him or her well.” “And you have us,” Rose proclaims. Lily and I look back at the three people who’ve been the foundation of our healthy lives. Rose raises her chin with a determined expression like you both can do this. And then Connor. He stands poised, with more confidence than either of us has ever acquired. I can almost feel it radiate off his body and flow through mine. His lips begin to rise, knowing the effect he has on me, and most people. My brother. Ryke has his arms crossed over his chest. I think he knows, as well as I do, that I am nowhere near ready to have a kid. But the negativity has been swept from his hard, dark features. He has that same sturdy, unbending will in his eyes as the rest of them. The perseverance to do anything, to be anything. To thrive. Someday, that word will belong to us too. After years of coming up short, it’s all I’ve ever wanted.

Out of all the reactions I imagined he’d have, this was the one I least expected. But the one that I love the most. It’s the one where he is indisputably committed to us, as a team. I wouldn’t ask anything more from him.

When we break apart, his forehead on mine, he whispers, “You and me.” I smile against his lips. “Lily and Lo.” “And someone else,” he says. And someone else. I have many more months before I meet that someone, but we’re beginning to accept this new world, a new reality where we’re no longer allowed to be selfish. It’s our greatest test yet.

Without my brother, I wouldn’t be sober. I’m not even sure I’d be alive. His decision to enter my life and never let go was one that saved me. No thank you will repay what he’s given me. But it’s all I have. And by the smile that begins to lighten his normally darkened face—something tells me that it’s enough for him.

My heart speeds as he sorts through the collection in his hand and picks out a certain one. He passes it to me, the blue paint chipped on the X-Men’s costume. This was his favorite superhero when we were little. Not Hellion, who appeared in comics in our adolescence. And not Scott Summers, who slowly grew into a man that he admired. At the beginning of everything, he empathized most with Quicksilver. For being the son of an undesirable man. For being rebellious and wishing that life would just hurry up already. He’s not perfect by any means, but that’s why Lo loves him: every imperfection, every flaw. He is a hero in my eyes because of each one. “Maximoff,” he says. My tears brim. I flip the ornament over and see Lo’s name etched into the back. He draws me closer and rubs his sleeve below my eyes. “Say something.” “I love it,” I say with a laugh that produces more tears. Maximoff. Quicksilver’s last name. And then it clicks. “Remember when we said that the best Ravenclaws are the ones who can cheer for the Gryffindors and the Hufflepuffs?” Lo nods. “Luna,” I say. “For a girl…” He smiles. “It’s perfect…just don’t tell Rose and Connor that it’s because of them.” He knows that Luna makes me think of my sister and his best friend. “It’ll go to their heads.” Very true. If we have a girl, the origin of her name is a secret that stays between us.

“This isn’t pretend anymore, is it?” We spent three years playing house together before we became an official couple. Lines between our relationship and our worlds have always blurred. Like one foot in an alternate reality and one in Earth-616. “No, love.” Lo tilts my chin up so I meet his swirling amber eyes. “This is real.”

He cups my face, his thumb stroking my cheek. “One day at a time,” he says, his amber eyes boring powerfully into mine, “that’s how we’re going to take this.” One day at a time. “Isn’t that too slow for you?” I ask. The Loren Hale that I’m used to wants no delay on life, no drawing out the agony. He hates the wait. I watch his gaze fall to my belly. And then they flicker to my features. He searches them like he’s engraining each freckle, each piece of me. “Life moves too quickly,” he says. “I don’t want to speed through a single moment. Not anymore.” I cry into a laugh because I never thought I’d hear him talk this way. He brushes my tears for me, our lips only a breath apart. And I whisper, “One day at a time then.”