Ricochet (Addicted, #2)

by Krista Ritchie

I don’t think many people can really understand what it’s like to be so invested in someone—to share every single moment and then to have them ripped from you. We have an unhealthy, co-dependent relationship. I know this. And I’m trying to change, to grow beyond him, but why does that have to be a stipulation? I want to grow with him. I want to be with him. I want to love Lo without people telling me that our love is too much.

More than anything, I think Daisy just wants to be free.

“I’m not a screamer.” Lo would disagree. My cheeks flush.

“I’m afraid of heights,” I tell her, shrinking back. “Since when?” she asks. “Since I was seven years old and Harry Cheesewater pushed me off a jungle gym.” “Oh yeah, you broke your arm, didn’t you?” She smiles. “And wasn’t his name Chesswater?” “Lo made up his nickname.” Good times. She snaps her fingers in remembrance. “That’s right. Lo put a firecracker in his backpack in retaliation.”

Good old Lo🤭

“If you can’t even say yes, then you shouldn’t be at any parties. Find Daisy and stay with her until I get there.” What? No, no, no. “You don’t need to babysit me, Ryke.” He exhales loudly. “Look, I promised Lo that I’d make sure you didn’t jump off a fucking cliff when he left. If helping you helps him, then I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll see you.”

We love an overly protective brother 🥹

“No. I find it infuriating.” His lips quirk in a smile. “Just like me?” She rolls her eyes, but she sort of lingers there as she refuses to lose contact completely. I can tell she wants to kiss him, maybe just as much as he wants to kiss her. But then she turns her head, breaking the moment. Just like Rose to push a guy away. Sometimes I think she fears a lack of power that comes in a relationship, as though she may lose some sort of advantage if she lets Connor in. He doesn’t look defeated. In fact, his eyes pulse with the exact opposite. Determined. Challenged. A hair falls from its hold in her pony, and Rose tucks it behind her ear. “I think I’m onto something here. This psychologist suggests that sexual addiction can be closely related to obsessive compulsive disorder. If I look into OCD, then maybe I’ll have a better understanding of what Lily is going through.” “We,” he says. Rose’s brows furrow. “What?” “You said ‘if I look into OCD.’ I told you I want to help, so I’m going to help. Lily is my friend too.” He shifts so their bodies press a little closer, and Rose’s laptop sits on each of their legs.

Ugh Connor, the man that you are😫

I believe Rose. I trust her more than anyone else in the whole world, maybe even more than Lo. He would be so offended if he heard me say that, but in this moment, I think it’s true. He’s not here. But I have her. There’s something beyond comforting about that. “Thanks, Rose.” I give her a hug and hope that no matter how horrible I am, no matter how much I bitch and regress, she’ll forgive me.

“You’re so much like Mom, it’s scary.” Shit. Rose’s solidifies to stone. I see hurt coursing through her, even if no one else can. I don’t think Daisy realizes how much Rose is trying to avoid being like our mother. She fears that path more than any of us.

Oh Daisy...

“Who the fuck are you?” Aaron spits. Ryke motions to a server and points to his placemat, silently asking for food. Then he faces Aaron with narrowed eyes. If Lo was here, I think he’d appreciate the backup. We’ve never had it before, and I have to say, it’s kind of nice. “Loren Hale’s brother,” Ryke tells him. Aaron chokes on a laugh. “Bullshit. Lo’s an only child.” “Then don’t believe me. I don’t really fucking care. But you start messing with his girlfriend, and then I will care.”

FUCK YES, go Ryke!

“Are you on your way?” “I jumped in a limo when I read your first text,” he tells me. “Rose may not be pleased to see me, regardless of her mother’s affairs.” I hesitate, wondering if he’s right. Will she be resistant if he interferes? “She’s not used to letting someone else help her.” “I don’t think any of you Calloway girls are,” he says. I take this in and realize he might be right about that. But I’m learning to relinquish my control to other people. I’m learning to accept help that’s been offered. I hope Rose will do the same, even if she feels like she has everything taken care of. “Promise me that you won’t run away from her,” I say in a sharp breath. “Even if she pushes you away⁠—” “I won’t let her go,” Connor says.

My chest hurts🥹

“It’s not arsenic,” he says. Her lips rise in a small smile. “Your hips also don’t have to be measured in the morning.” “They can be,” he tells her. “Will you eat the fucking cake if I measure my hips?” “And your ass,” she says. “You want to know the size of my ass?” His brow rises. “Yep.” “Eat the cake.”

He approaches her like a man tiptoeing towards a sleeping lion. “Rose,” he breathes. “Darling…” She’s shaking. Her arms tremble, and her eyes keep growing wider and wider. “She’s wrong,” Rose whispers. I can practically hear her chant in her head: I’m not like her. I’m not like her. Connor closes the gap between them, and his hands touch her face, holding her cheeks, and gently soothing the reddened one with a soft stroke. “Look at me, hun.” Rose tries to push him off. “Why…” She keeps shaking her head, but he holds her tight, trying to make her focus. “I’m right here,” he tells her. She weakly tries to push him off again, not really wanting to, and he grabs her hand. “I don’t need you,” she reminds him. But the silent tears start flowing. She’s crying in front of him, actually letting Connor see her cracks. I wonder if the emotions are too hard to bottle since she drank so much. “I don’t need you,” she repeats, her voice breaking. “You’re right,” he says softly. “You don’t need a man, Rose.” He pauses and I barely hear him whisper, “But you do need me.” She looks down and then back at him, her lashes wet and glistening, making her face look more porcelain and delicate than I ever remember. “What are you doing here?” she asks with the shake of her head. “You shouldn’t be here.” Her tears drip on his hands, both rising back to her face. He tucks a flyaway piece of hair behind her ear, and his eyes graze the welt on her cheek. “A little bird told me you were upset.” Rose let...

Don't even, they are pure perfection🥹

“Really?” His voice breaks, sounding on the verge of tears. “Yeah, really. I’ve never felt better.” I bring the speaker away from my mouth, the lie crushing my chest. After a long moment, he says, “Good, good. I’m glad.” He inhales another sharp breath. “I don’t have much longer⁠—” “Lo,” I interject. Please don’t leave me just yet. “Yeah?” “I’m waiting for you.” I love you. I imagine a smile spreading across his face. Even if it’s sad, it’s still one that I’ll hold onto in my dreams. “I knew you could.”

I’m not crying, are you?🥲

I sit in the therapist’s waiting room with Rose by my side. She skipped all of her classes for the day to be here with me.

Bruh their relationship is soo precious 🥺

Secretly, I give Ryke’s inner tube a little nudge. He sways and grabs onto mine to steady himself. I face him and hiss, “Save me.” He rests his head back on this tube, ignoring me. I feel myself being left out to dry. “I. Will. Drown. You,” I whisper. Suddenly, he sits up. “I’m going to get some food.” “I’ll join.”

My fiance may or may not have given me bombastic side eye when I was laughing like a deranged woman at my kindle🤭

“Sex is definitely better than chocolate, and Lily would make a strong case that it’s more sufficient than oxygen. And when have you been freefalling?” “Last year, I skydived for the first time.” He nods. “Okay, well, hate to break it to you, but sex is ten times better than skydiving.” “No it’s not,” she rebuts. Ryke leans forward on his chair a little. “Then whoever fucked you didn’t do it right, sweetheart.”

“I thought you weren’t going to want me back.” His voice lowers to a pained whisper. “Why would you think that?” I lick my dry, chapped lips again. “Couples who divorce usually don’t get remarried.” Of course, we’re not actually married. But he’ll understand the metaphor. He’s used it before when we were teenagers. We played house most of our lives. It’s kind of fucked up, but I guess that’s just us. “I’m remarrying you, Lil. Fuck, I’d remarry you a hundred times until it stuck.” I pinch my eyes again. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” “Even if I make you miserable?” There’s a long pause before he murmurs, “You don’t make me miserable. You make me want to live. And I want to live with you.”

Boys, take notes

“He’s one of my triggers to drink, but I didn’t need rehab to figure that out.” My chest constricts. “Am I…” What if I’m a trigger. Oh God. “No, Lil,” he tells me with a short laugh. “You’re the opposite. You’re my stability…my home.”

“Did that feel good?” he asks in a tense voice. Which part? And why do I have to ruin everything? I stare pathetically at my hands. “Don’t look at me like that,” I whisper. “You haven’t even looked at me yet,” he murmurs. I inhale a strained breath and finally gain the courage to meet his gaze. No judgment crosses his features. Instead, his amber eyes swim with empathy that I do not deserve. And I see the worry, as though I broke his heart, as though the extremity and horror of my compulsions just fully registered in his head. “I’m sorry,” I choke. I rub my tears before they fall. “You don’t have to…” be with me. I am a monster. “I love you,” he says. “We’re going to work on this together.” Translation: I’m not going anywhere.

I look up to meet his gaze. It’s filled with hope, with longing and something more. Something that I think can only be shared between two broken people. “And you stop struggling,” he whispers. “I watch your body relax against me, and then I kiss you on the top of your head. I tell you how proud I am of you, and how making you come once lasts a lifetime.” My last tear falls. I can’t move to wipe it. I am transfixed by Loren Hale, my everything. “I love you,” he says again, “and no other man will ever say those words and mean them the way I do.” My chest hurts so badly. His words are beautiful and painful at the same time. Like us, I suppose. I have to be strong. For him. For me. For us.

His eyes flit across her porcelain cheeks, her pink nose from the cold, and her striking cat-colored eyes. “I would mention how the Earth revolves around the sun, and they’d cry heretic. You, of course, would be accused of heresy or witchcraft by eighteen.” “I’d survive,” she declares. “You would,” he nods. “You’d cut your beautiful hair in order to.” His fingers skim her brown glossy locks that stop at her chest. “You think if I cut my hair I would look like a boy?” she retorts, defensive. I guess to protect herself back then, she would need to be a man. She jerks out of his grasp, eyes as cold as ice. He doesn’t shrink back. He takes the challenge with a fervent smile. “I think you would make an effort to, and I’d keep my smartass lips shut so I didn’t die.” He looks her over. “Then I’d pretend to be with a man just so I could do this.” One of his hands slides across her neck, the other cups her face, and he presses his lips to hers, drawing her closer as they kiss. Her hands hang loose by her side, and as he melds his chest to her, closing every gap, she relaxes her arms around his shoulders. Internally, I’m waving Connor Cobalt and Rose Calloway flags, cheering them on. When they part, their warm breath smokes the cold air. Rose’s eyes are surprisingly soft, but her words remain fiery. “And then we’d both be dead,” she reminds him. “We’d be hung for sodomy.” “Then I’d die with you. Happily.” He grins, and her lips rise in an equally infatuated smile.

Ugh they're perfection

“Thank you,” I tell her, “for these three months.” Her eyes flicker to mine. “You did all the work.” “Not true,” I say with a small laugh. She found my therapist. She decorated the house. She spent more time helping me than I can even add up. “I’m happy I’m here.” “Me too,” she says, her eyes softening again. She’s starting to get good at that. Her arm wraps around my shoulder. As we go inside, I know that the future may not be so easy. I know that there will be more issues to deal with. But I can’t imagine going back to how things were. Now it’s time to start building relationships. I think I’m ready.

I'm so proud of her