Thrive (34 page)

“I don’t know, Lo,” he says. “I want to. I want to so
fucking
badly, but it’s not as easy as
wishing for that kind of peace. I hate him for things he did to me, for the
things he does to you.”

I sit up and wipe my face with the bottom of my shirt.
“Jesus Christ,” I laugh shortly. “You don’t get it. I deserved every word he
said to me. You didn’t know me in prep school, Ryke. I was a fucking shit. I
was
terrible
.”

He glares. “Don’t ever fucking tell me that you
deserved
it. No one deserves to be beat
down every fucking day.”

I feel like I did. Still do sometimes. I exhale, my eyes
flickering up to his as I say, “He’s never touched me.” It’s the truth. I know
the whole world may never believe me, but I need the people closest to me to.

Ryke holds my face between both of his hands, his brown eyes
boring into mine, flecked with hazel. “
Stop
defending him. Not to me, okay?”

He’ll never love my father the way I do. It’s impossible to
even try to convince him. He just doesn’t see the good that’s hidden beneath
all the bad. Or maybe, he just thinks the bad parts outweigh all the good.

I draw back, the tension loose between us. But there’s still
something left that we have to confront. I’m not leaving this desert with more
things left unturned.

I gesture to the red welt on his cheek. “That bruise right
there, that’s for fucking my girlfriend’s little sister by the way.”

His lips part in horror.

{ 59 }

2 years : 02 months

October

LOREN HALE

“Tabloids caught you making out just outside of
Devils Tower.” I dig in my pocket for my new cell that I bought after the old
one was destroyed in the riot. Then I scroll through
Celebrity Crush
, finding the picture of Daisy on my brother’s
shoulders, both of them kissing. I throw my cell at him, and he catches it in
his hands. “The photograph is on every gossip site.”

Off his shocked expression, I’m guessing he never saw the
headlines. The longer he looks at the picture, the more his face settles on
rage, his eyes glazing with this darkness. Then he chucks the phone back. It
hits me in the jaw before thudding to the ground.

I pick it up and dust off the casing. “Pissed you got
caught?”

He stays quiet.
Not
again.

I internally growl in frustration. “Please talk to me,” I
snap, “because I need to understand what’s going on or I may just punch you
again.”

He shakes his head, his shirt covered in red dirt like mine.
Bruises begin to form on his jaw. “It just happened.” His voice is husky and
lowered, like that’s all he’s ever going to give me.

It just happened.
I
blink a couple times. “It just happened?” I’m so tired of hearing that. “That’s
a really shitty thing to tell me.” He runs his hand through his hair, red dust
billowing. “You fuck Lily’s little sister, and you say,
oh it just fucking happened?
What’d you fall on her? Did you add
her to your tally of girls? Is it a one-night stand kind of thing?” My chest
thrums in worry, in fear that all of this could be true. He’s never said
otherwise.

“That’s not what I fucking meant.” He grimaces and rubs his
face with his hands quickly, like maybe he’ll wake up and this issue will just
be buried with everything else.

I won’t let him. “Then what did you mean?” I ask.

He looks at me. “It’s serious.”

“So serious that you shared it with everyone.”

“Because I knew you were going to jump down my fucking
throat!” He springs to his feet with this fury, and I rise to mine, my ribs
expanding with each heavy breath.

“If you cared about her, then you wouldn’t be sneaking
around like you’re doing something wrong!” What am I supposed to think? He’s an
older guy. She’s a younger girl. And if he liked her at all beyond just sex,
he’d be with her. For real.

“Fuck you!” Ryke shouts, veins protruding in his arms and
neck. “You’ve made this
impossible
,
Lo!”

“She’s EIGHTEEN!” I yell, nearing him. And even though his
nose flares in anger, he forces himself to step back. “She’s like my little
sister. It wasn’t
supposed to be
possible! But you didn’t care. You still
banged
her.” I trusted him. I accepted him into
my
life, and if he hurts her at all, it’s partially my fault.

He cracks his knuckles, probably to stop himself from
forming fists.

“Your cock finally got the best of you, didn’t it?” I ask.
“She turned eighteen and you could
finally
stick it in—”

“No, it wasn’t fucking like that!” His muscles flex and
knuckles whiten, hands balled into fists.

“I should leave you alone in this desert,” I tell him. “I am
kicking
myself right now, for every
time I let you near her, for every time I let you be alone with her—”

“You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about.” He huffs
in aggravation, but he never explains himself. I wait a second, expecting him
to clarify.
I can’t read your fucking
mind, Ryke.

“I don’t know what I’m fucking talking about?” All I have to
go on is what I see. And not all of it is good. Most of it is just
inappropriate, starting from when she was fifteen. “How long, Ryke? Tell me
that, how fucking long have you liked her more than just a friend, and let’s see
if it’s all in my head?”

“I don’t know.” His hard gaze falls to the red dirt.

“I’m going to ask you
again
,”
I say, a tremor in my voice. “How long—”

“Stop,” he grits.

I take another step towards him. “No,
how long—
”

“FOR YEARS!” he screams, blood rushing to his face, red and
pissed and tormented. I don’t want to believe him. Even if I have for so long.
Even if I’ve seen it right in front of me. “Is that what you want to hear?!
Years, Lo.”

I wished that it wasn’t true. That he didn’t drag Daisy into
our family. That girl deserves to be free from this shit. “You’re lying?” I
say.

“I’m not,” he says, tears welling in his eyes. “I have been
so fucking attracted to that girl. And I
never
planned on doing a fucking thing about it. I never was going to try. And I
tried…I tried so fucking hard not thinking about her like that.” The honesty
pours out of him. “It was wrong. I knew it was fucking wrong. I suppressed
everything as much as I could.”

He liked her from the start. “Then why not stay away from
her?” I ask. “Why not put a hundred fucking feet between you and Daisy? You
flirted with her every day, Ryke. You became her
friend
.” It sounds like a motive to end up with her, like he was
just waiting around until she became the right age.

“I convinced myself that nothing would ever happen, so I
thought it was okay to push further.”

“You’re a fucking idiot!” I shout. Seriously. The moment he
decided to be a part of her life, it was over. “She was so hot,” I say, “that
you couldn’t say no after she became legal—”

“No,” he interjects, stepping forward with purpose and rage.
“It
wasn’t
like that.”

“Then what was it fucking like?!” I shout, trying to pull
something out of him that he won’t let go.

And then he screams, “I FUCKING LOVE HER!”

My jaw drops, his words physically knocking me back a couple
steps. I just—I scan his features, his eyes that plead for me to understand and
scorch with emotion.

“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.” I pause. “But you can’t really
love her—”

“I’ve known her for over
two
years,” he says. “I’ve spent so much fucking time with her, Lo. We’ve been
through a lot together, so yes, I fell in love with her.”

I look over my shoulder, at the girls. Lily has her thin
arms wrapped around her tall sister while Daisy cries, wetting Lily’s shirt. I
turn back to Ryke, but he’s still staring at Daisy.

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.”

“Thanks,” he says.

I nod. “I wish you fell in love with another fucking girl.”
I’m going to wish it every day that my father attempts to use Daisy to get to
Ryke. Just to try to patch up their relationship. It’s something Jonathan Hale
would do in a heartbeat. Maybe Ryke doesn’t realize that yet.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I really fucking am. For lying.”

I shrug. “You didn’t want to get hit.” What’s past is past.
I want to restart. Maybe we’ll both have more faith and trust in each other
after this.

“No,” he says. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

I know.
“I’ll get
over it. Just…give me fucking time.” I walk towards the girls who all huddle
together, talking while Daisy rubs her eyes with the back of her hand. In his
button-down, clean and undusted, unlike our clothes, Connor watches us with
that impassive face, the one I can’t read very well.

And I don’t sense my brother behind me.

I stop and spin fully around, turning my back on Connor. The
reddish marks along Ryke’s eye start to purple underneath, winding my emotions.
I’m sorry
. I’m still not sure if
he’ll ever go to the press, to vouch for our father, for me. But I’m truly
sorry that my existence caused him so much pain.

He lived the bastard life, in disgrace and hiding, all this
time. And I didn’t even know it.

He must read my eyes because he saunters ahead and stands
beside me. We start walking together, towards everyone. And I reach out and put
my hand on his shoulder.

He flinches at first, startled by the acceptance.

But then he rubs the back of my head, messing my hair
roughly. “I’m glad you hit me.”

“Why is that?” I ask.

“Not a lot of people stand up to me.” Because he’s
intimidating, and if he wants to keep his problems hidden, no one is stupid
enough to go up against him, just to let those things surface. “I’m happy you
did.”

“I knew you wouldn’t hit back,” I say. “And it’s not like it
was a complete selfless act.”

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.

{ 60 }

2 years : 03 months

November

LOREN HALE

“Get away from the window, Daisy,” I say with
edge. She presses her forehead to the glass and clutches the door handle,
peering out of the car as far as she can. But her view is blocked by cameras
who attempt to capture us through the tinted windows. Paparazzi have swarmed my
father’s Escalade that’s parked outside of the jail. Back in Philadelphia.

Anderson,
my dad’s driver, sits idly in the front seat while we wait for my father and
hopefully my brother to return.

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.

And
now he had to come home to
this
shit.
Life sucks most of the time.

“I
shouldn’t go in there…” Daisy recognizes with a trembling voice. She wants to
go retrieve Ryke from jail, but she can’t do a damn thing. Neither can I. My
father, however, has more power than us. We just have to be patient.

I rub
my lips, irritated. Just at the whole situation we’re in. “Ryke wanted you to
go home with Connor and Rose, so I can’t imagine that he’d be happy if he saw
you walk into the jail.”

“I
know,” she murmurs, wiping a stray tear quickly.

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 pat the
leather seat next to me. “Scoot back.”

Daisy
reluctantly distances herself from the window, about to slide to the center
seat.

“Not
that far,” I say before she reaches the middle. “The cameras can get a picture
of you from the windshield.” This way she’ll be blocked by the front seat.

She
nods, her eyes swollen from crying. Tear streaks are dried on her face, even
her left cheek with the long scar. It’s less red than it used to be, but it’ll
always be noticeable.
 

“I
hate my mom for doing this to him,” Daisy says softly.

“Yeah,”
I say, leaning my head back, “Samantha Calloway isn’t a bright ray of
sunshine.” I think of all the pain she’s caused Lily through this brutal
silence and cold shoulder act. And now, with what she did to Ryke, who’s
completely innocent—

“No,
I really,
really
hate her,” Daisy
cries angry tears, turning her head towards me.
Christ.
It’s scary—seeing malice on a girl who’s never worn it
before, someone so full of life. “I quit modeling, and instead of being okay
with it, she blamed Ryke and did
this
.”
Her phone is clutched in her shaking hand. “What people are saying…none of it’s
true. You know that, right?”

Yeah, I know
. I’m also very familiar
with defamatory allegations, being falsely accused.
I snatch the phone out of her hand and scroll through her Twitter
feed while she rubs her eyes.

@GBANews:
Ryke Meadows under arrest for statutory
rape. #BreakingNews

@PoPhillyFan12:
#Raisy is dead :( I can’t believe Ryke
would do that! #TeamCoballoway

@Sucker3Punch:
He’s
still hot imo. Why’d Daisy have to tempt him like that? #Raisy is dead bc of
that ho.

@WendyBird_1:
#Raisy
is dead *cries*

“Raisy is dead” is trending on Twitter. I try to hide a
grimace. Ryke and Daisy were one of the most popular parts of the reality show,
for all the flirting that pushed boundaries but never crossed the line. I
didn’t think that their fans would revolt, not even over something like this.

“There’s no evidence against him, Daisy,” I remind her.
“People will get over it.” A camera lens taps the window, crowding too close.
She barely even flinches at the noise.

“They didn’t drop what happened to you,” she says softly.

I stiffen. “It’s different.” There’s an ongoing
investigation for the molestation case, and they have family friends saying
things like
Jonathan Hale has physically
grabbed Loren in public.
Maybe just the back of my head. They’re stretching
what little they’ve seen.

“It’s not the media that hurts the most,” she whispers. “I
just…” She tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear, the strand dyed pink. “I
feel so betrayed by my mom.” Samantha was the one who tipped off the police.

I shut off her phone. “Ryke won’t be charged with statutory
rape. They have
no
evidence, Daisy.
Just concentrate on that.” It’s the one silver lining. Samantha just wanted to
throw Ryke into the media hellfire, let them tear at his character for a while
since he’s dating her daughter. I don’t want him to have to deal with this
anymore than I want Daisy to.

“Maybe I pushed him too hard…that’s what everyone says, you
know? That I tempted him.”

I glare at her. “First of all, you both didn’t sleep
together until you were legal.” I internally cringe at the thought of them
doing
anything
other than holding
hands.
I can’t believe I’m having this conversation
with Daisy Calloway
. “And secondly, Ryke is going to bitch you out the
minute you blame yourself. So rethink your first statement to him.”

Her chin quivers. “No, I blame my mom…more than anyone.”

I don’t add what she probably already knows. This goes
beyond Samantha being pissed that Daisy quit modeling. She hates Ryke’s mother,
so she wasn’t ecstatic upon learning that her daughter was dating the offspring
of Sara Hale. I don’t even think Greg Calloway is all that excited about the
idea. For the same reason I wasn’t: Ryke expresses himself in an aggressive way
with very few words. I wouldn’t want that kind of guy dating my daughter. Not
that I’ll ever have one.

Suddenly the cameras break from the Escalade in a wave,
rushing towards the jail. Daisy slides closer to the door and grips the handle.

“Don’t leave the car,” I warn.

She inhales sharply and says, “He’s coming out!” Tears flood
her eyes, overwhelmed and clearly in love with my brother. I can’t deny that
fact.

I only have an awesome view of cameramen with gnarly beards.
I sigh heavily, wishing they’d hurry up. I almost stick my head through the
middle of the seat, just to look, but my joints are welded together in
agitation.

And then, the front door swings open. “Ryke, did you sleep
with Daisy when you were on the reality show?! Are you going to trial?!” But
Ryke doesn’t climb in.

My father takes the front seat next to Anderson. Before he
slams the door, he shouts back, “There is no trial because he hasn’t been
charged. Write that up in your goddamn papers.” He shuts them out, drowning the
noise for point two seconds.

Because the backdoor, nearest Daisy, opens. The cameras go
wild behind Ryke. Yelling so many things at once and trying to edge closer to
catch a picture of Daisy. She kneels on the seat while Ryke stands right
outside the car.

“Ryke, I’m so sor—”

He leans down and kisses her, with the door purposefully
ajar so the cameras can capture the moment. No shame.
Good for him.
Though their embrace is a little
much
for me. I have to look away when it’s clear his tongue slips
into her mouth.

My father is really quiet in the front seat. He keeps
clearing his throat like he’s choked up. I frown, what happened in the jail?

After another second, Ryke slips in the car and slams the
door closed. Daisy is about to slide in the middle seat between me and my
brother, but Ryke pulls her onto his lap. He whispers in her ear, and then she
nods and rests her head on his shoulder.

“You okay?” I ask Ryke as Anderson speeds off towards his
apartment complex or maybe my dad’s house. One of the two. The paparazzi pile
into their cars quickly, but we have distance on them.

“I’ll be fine,” he says, hugging Daisy closer to his chest.
I notice that one of his hands rubs her lower back in a circular motion. He
finally looks at me. “Dad has something to tell you.”

My brows furrow, and I just wait for my father to speak.

He audibly coughs into his hand, definitely choked up now.

Ryke glowers at the headrest. “Dad,” he says through gritted
teeth.

And then my father rotates in his seat to face me. His dark
brown hair seems grayer by his temples, his face more severe and forehead more
wrinkled.

In one breath, he says, “I’m going to get sober.”

My mouth slowly falls. I had to hear him wrong. “What was
that?” My pulse kicks up a notch.
What
was that?

He rolls his eyes. “You’re really going to make me say it
again?”

I freeze in shock. I contemplate what happened, how he
refused to mumble the words aloud with this back turned to me. My dad isn’t a
coward, but this is a proclamation so weighted that I can’t accept it fully.
“Yeah,” I snap. “Say it again.”

He sighs heavily. “I’m not going to drink anymore, son.”

I scrutinize him for a long moment. And come to one
conclusion. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“You and me both,” he mutters but determination creases his
brow.

Our father wouldn’t do this out of the kindness of his black
fucking heart. So I look to Ryke. “What’d you do?” I ask.

Jonathan answers first. “He’s going to be a part of this
family.” He turns back around and I hear him say under his breath, “Like he was
always supposed to be.”

I read between the lines.

To have his son back in his life, my dad is willing to be
sober.

It’s a hell of a declaration, and I don’t even mind that he
wasn’t willing to do that for me all these years. I just mull over the
possibility that I may one day see the impossible. My dad without his whiskey.