Addicted After All (5 page)

I nod to him and rest my forearms on the cold counter. “Boy or girl?” I ask, the question already jailing my muscles in an uncomfortable vice. I decide to do sit-ups in the kitchen while I wait for him. I walk in front of the island and lie on the floorboards.

“Is this what I want or what I think Rose will have?” he questions.

“What you want.” I watch him pour his coffee, and then I rest my hands behind my head and use my core to rise to my bent legs.

Connor walks over and steps on the tops of my shoes, keeping me stationary. He cups his mug. “I want many children, so I don’t really mind which one is first, as long as there’s a second.”

It surprises me, and I freeze midway to my knees. “Why?” He’s arrogant, conceited—really self-absorbed, not in a bad way exactly. It’s just a fact. And none of those things say
I want a big, loud family.

He grins into his sip of coffee, towering above me at six-four. “The challenge is worth the reward, and I’m ready for a new one.”

At least one of us is confident. I scowl, my back touching the floor again.

“You’re going to do fine, Lo,” Connor assures me.

I want to believe him, but if anyone is good at
placating
people, it’s Connor. I can’t put faith in every word he says when I know it’s designed to calm me. I love it. I need it. But my past history says I’m more likely to fail than succeed. So I tell him, “We’ll see.”

Feet patter against the floorboards, and I turn my head, first noticing a hemp ankle bracelet. Long legs hidden beneath sweatpants—
Ryke’s
sweatpants—and a yellow cut-off top with the words:
flower power.

What the hell. “Where’s your boyfriend?” I ask Daisy as she opens the fridge. There’s no way they had sex. He’d last longer than one minute with her. I stifle a worse cringe.
Don’t think about it.

“Huh?” She plays dumb, grabbing a Lightning Bolt! energy drink.

I rest my forearms on my knees, and Connor watches her closely, still drinking his coffee. She has dark rings beneath bloodshot eyes.

“You look like shit,” I tell her flatly. “Where’s your
boyfriend?
”

She dips her baseball cap low, shrouding her gaze. That’s annoying. “Your dad won’t care how I look, right?”

I don’t know.
“If you’re worried about it, you can put on makeup,” I say, my sharp tone cutting my eardrums. “Lily won’t, so you don’t have to.” I exhale, and Connor steps off my shoes to refill his coffee. Something tells me that we’re not going to make it to the gym today.

“Ryke’s right here.” She motions past me and takes a swig of her energy drink.

That’s when my brother rounds the island corner, entering the kitchen. He beelines straight for Daisy and snatches the baseball cap off her head, her damp blonde hair soaking her shirt.

“Hey, bro,” I say, not adding anything more since Daisy’s here. It’s normal for the three of us to talk about the girls and sex, but not when they’re around. And I have a pretty good feeling they do the same to us.

Ryke turns his head, and I give him a look like
what the fuck happened?
I thought he had a plan in motion.

“She’s not Lily,” he suddenly tells me.

My eyes narrow, my blood heating. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Yeah?” Daisy asks Ryke with a frown.

Ryke lets out a frustrated groan. “Just drop it.”

“No,” I snap. Now my mind is reeling. “You started it. You finish it.”

“Words to live by,” Connor smiles. He’s completely at ease with no information about this argument, but maybe he has everything he needs by observing us.

“All I fucking meant,” Ryke says, extending his arms, “is that Lily will do almost
anything
in bed.” The fact that he talks to Lily about sex
often
still unnerves me. “Daisy won’t, and I’m not going to force her to have sex when she doesn’t want it.”

Daisy’s mouth has dropped, her face reddening in embarrassment. She glances quickly at Connor and blushes even more. “This is not happening,” she mutters.

“It’s happening,” I tell her with a sardonic smile.

“Don’t be a fucking dick,” Ryke snaps, trying to close the subject now.

I could wait to ask Lily about whether or not Daisy has used sex to fall asleep—therefore not being a “fucking dick.” Or I could wait to ask Ryke after Daisy leaves. But frankly, that sounds like too much work. Plus, Ryke frequently talks to
my
girlfriend about sex, so guess what? This is how it feels. “Daisy,” I call to her, stretching my leg while I sit on the floor.

Ryke shoots me a look. “
Lo,
fuck off.”

I ignore him while Daisy acknowledges me. And I ask point-blank, “Have you ever tried to sleep by having sex?” It takes more effort to keep a straight-face, not cringing, than it does to say the words.

“You don’t have to answer him,” Ryke tells her. And he mouths to me,
shut the fuck up.
Too late for that.

Her face stays red. “Not on purpose, no…” She opens her mouth to add more but she hesitates.

“Don’t be afraid to hurt my feelings,” I tell her. “I can take it.” That’s why she always holds back—why everyone walks on eggshells around Lily and me. Afraid they’ll fracture us like we’re glass dolls. I’m past that. All the damage has been done. You can’t break something that’s already broken.

“…I didn’t want to use sex like that.” She adds quickly, “Not to say that what you do with Lily is wrong, I just…” She lets out a breath. “Maybe I should try…”

“No, you don’t want to,” Ryke interjects.

“But Lo says—”

“Lo, I’m going to fucking kill you,” Ryke growls at me, his glare murderous. “You don’t have all the fucking answers.”

I raise my hands. “Calm down, Chewbacca, it was just a suggestion.” I nod to Daisy. “He’s right. You obviously don’t want to do it, so don’t do it.”

“Don’t do what?” Lily suddenly plops down on my crotch, straddling my lap. Her hands lie flat on my chest. She puts her face really close to mine and whispers, “Why are you on the floor?” Her cheeks are glowing with this euphoric happiness that causes me to smile almost immediately.

She’s wearing long johns and her white fuzzy Wampa hat, and I’m swept in a flashback: she was seventeen, standing outside my childhood house in those same camping underwear. Just as adorable as she is now.

My nose brushes hers in a feather-light touch, and I hear her breath sharpen. My lips to her ear, I murmur, “I was prepared for you to straddle me.”

She shoves my chest playfully and I laugh, grasping her hips so she realizes that I want her right here, not any further away. Not a foot or a yard. She subconsciously digs her pelvis into me, and I swallow a groan as the pressure builds in my cock. I’m used to it.

I’m even used to the red flush that grows from her neck to her forehead. She catches herself mid-grind and freezes. I tug on her Wampa ear-flaps while she notices everyone staring.

“Hi,” she says. “…what’d I interrupt?”

“Nothing,” Daisy says quickly.

“That’s not suspicious,” Connor announces as though he expected better from her. Like she’s a goddamn master of deception. I mean, she hid a lot from us, but she’s not
that
good.

Lily’s gaze darts from Ryke to Connor to me. “You guys aren’t ganging up on her are you?” She pauses with a sharp inhale. “I mean not like that!”

I wince, suddenly realizing that she took “gang” to a sexual level.

“Lily,” Ryke groans, his hands on his head in distress. He looks how I feel. Connor is still complacent. I wish I could be like that, but my mind needs scrubbed.

“Sorry!” she shouts, covering her eyes. “I thought everyone was thinking it.” She peeks out at me. “You were thinking it, right?”

“Sure,” I lie.

She moans into her hands, catching my dry tone easily.

“Lily, it’s okay,” Daisy says. “No big deal.”

Lily blows out a long breath, and I massage her shoulders. Then a pair of heels clicks across the floorboards. Here we go.

“Is everyone ready?” Rose asks, an envelope between her fingers.

“I thought we were waiting till the afternoon?” I say.

“Everyone’s together right now.” She actually withholds a spiteful retort. And it’s clear how nervous she is, the fear flickering in her yellow-green eyes. Connor must sense it too because he instantly draws her to his chest and grips her waist firmly. Her black dress shows off her baby bump, which is much bigger than Lily’s small one.

It scares me.

I know every girl’s body is different—but sometimes I wonder whether Lily may lose our baby, just in comparison to Rose’s size. And that frightens me even more…that I’d fear losing something that I never wanted to begin with.

These feelings are crazy. I get to experience every fucked up emotion without a crutch. No Maker’s Mark. No Macallan or Jameson.

I think I’m okay with that. Even when it hurts.

Lily unfurls her crumpled envelope, and my back straightens, leaning against the lower cupboards, Lil still on my lap.

“Are you going first?” Lily asks her sister, craning her neck over her shoulder.

Rose shakes her head, her collarbones protruding as she holds in a breath. “No, you go.” Connor speaks in French, not caring that Ryke can eavesdrop, and Rose replies in a hushed voice.

“Should I get my camera?” Daisy asks with a bright smile. It almost distracts me from the dark circles under her eyes.

“Use your phone,” Lily says, her hands shaking with nerves. “But don’t post anything on Instagram.”

Daisy mock gasps. “I already did.”

“Ha ha,” I say dryly.

Ryke looks like he could fuck her against the cupboards, an expression I don’t like catching from him. And then Daisy struggles to hop on the high counter with one good hand, the other in a cast.

Without hesitation, Ryke easily lifts her up. She swings her legs and holds out her smart phone. Instead of a photo, she begins recording us. Even narrating, “It’s Saturday, February 7
^th
. Lily Calloway is about to find out the sex of her baby. Will it be a boy or a girl? Predictions?” Her phone whips to Ryke.

“Girl,” he deadpans.

“One smile,” Daisy says.

His lips barely rise.

“Pathetic,” I tell him. “You can’t even smile for my future kid.”

“Yeah, Uncle Ryke,” Daisy jokes.

Ryke gives her a hard look. “Don’t say that again.” And then he actually smiles, not a full-blown one with teeth, but it’s good enough. This video recording actually lessens the tension in my muscles.

Lily even perks up with more excitement, her worries fluttering somewhere else.
Thanks, Daisy.

“What’s your prediction, Connor and Rose?” She points the camera-phone at the couple by the coffee pot.

Rose stiffens, “Girl.”

“Boy,” Connor says, setting his mug on the counter.

Rose rotates to face him. “You
have
to disagree with me?”

“I don’t
have
to.” He pauses to grin. “Though I like to.”

Rose is suddenly quiet, and his hand slips beneath her hair and he kisses her forehead.

Then Daisy whips her phone lens at us. “Lily and Lo, predictions?”

Lily’s green eyes flicker up to mine, and they tumble with so many fears and hesitations that I wish we were alone. In this solitary moment. So I could hold her. Shut out the rest of the world.

Just us.

No more noise.

“A girl,” Lily breathes. It’s not what she wants. It’s what I want, but it’s going to hurt either way.

“Boy,” I whisper.

Her chest collapses, and she shakes her head at me like it won’t be a boy. It may be. Half of me will be happy for Lily. The other half will be scared shitless again. The parts of me that I love the most are the parts that belong to her.

“Hurry up,” Rose says, her voice abnormally high-pitched. I cringe. She’s nothing short of petrified because she’s going next. And no matter how much Rose aggravates me on a daily basis, I’m not a fan of watching her like this

Connor whispers quickly in her ear, and I notice how she rubs her hands anxiously. He clutches one so she stops making her skin raw.

“You open it,” Lily whispers to me, rerouting my attention. She pushes the envelope in my hands.

My stomach tightens, but somehow, I force my joints to work. I tear the seal and unfold the white paper. My pulse races like I’m about to jump off a building and make a speech in front of a packed stadium. I can barely read the typed letters at first. They blur together, and it takes a few extended seconds to piece them apart.

She studies my expression for a long moment and says, “It’s a boy.”

I am flooded with temperatures below zero, and I pass the paper to her, so she can verify what she already knows is real.

Her eyes travel eagerly over the words and then she delicately folds the paper.

“You can smile, Lil.”
Please smile.

A tear rolls down her cheek.

No. I lean forward and cup her face in my hands. “Lily.
I’m happy
.” Somewhere. In all the good places that belong to her. There, I know I am.

Her lips are chapped as she licks them, and she glances back at the paper to reaffirm that we’re really having a boy.

I wipe her tears that fall. “Say something,” I breathe.
Smile, Lil.

“I’m…really, really happy.” Her voice trembles. And then she laughs into a smile, one that’s half-pained. For me. On the precipice of two polar opposite emotions.

“It’s better this way, with a boy,” I whisper, her glassy eyes flitting between me and the paper. “You have to believe that I believe it.” All I want is to sense her joy and rid the tar that’s seeped from me to her. I ruin most things I touch, and she’s the best thing I have left.

She nods repeatedly, trying to accept this as truth, and then I kiss her, desperation drowning my veins, my bones, my very fractured soul. A noise ripples through her throat. She clutches to me the way that I do to her—our bodies promising things that our words can’t.

I inhale sharply into a deeper embrace, my tongue tangling with hers. Her chest merges with mine, my hands disappearing in her short hair beneath her hat.