Addicted After All (58 page)

I haven’t asked him about the article in a while, the one involving my son. It hasn’t cropped up on the internet. I assumed it was taken care of, but I’d sleep easier hearing it from him. I ask, “Did you and my dad work things out?”

“We’re not going to be best friends any time soon, but we’ve set aside our differences for now.” He takes a sip of coffee. “Turns out we have something in common.” I read his gaze that’s more open than usual, the answer clear.

They both love me.

That’s not even the strangest part. What’s crazy is that I feel
worthy
of love.

“So how’d you bury the article?” I ask with a frown. “Whatever it cost, I can write a check—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, his defenses rising, his emotions padlocked.

“Connor—”

“Lo,” he says smoothly, “trust me when I tell you that it’s taken care of. This isn’t a part of your story anymore.”

Ryke grabs his popped bagel. “Just take the easy fucking win, Lo. We all dodged a shit storm.”

Not every situation has to be a full-on drag-out battle, and if this one is easier—yeah, I’ll take it. “Thanks,” I tell Connor.

“For you, anything.”

This time when he says it, I recognize the depth to his words. I’m not sure what he did for me. With someone as guarded as Connor, I doubt I’ll ever find out. But I’m sure that it was more than I could ever give.

{ 67 }

LILY CALLOWAY

“The register is pretty simple, or if you’d rather man the expresso and coffee makers, you’re welcome to do that. I thought the comics would be more up your alley though.” I open some of the blinds on the Superheroes & Scones storefront windows. We’re closed for another two hours, but I’m guiding Willow around, Maya in tow.

“I probably shouldn’t be near hot liquids,” Willow says softly. “I can be a klutz when I’m nervous.” She adjusts the straps of her jean backpack on her arm. She still carries it around like a safety vest.

“Good to know,” I say, watching her scan the empty store, as though it’s her first time in here. Maybe as a future employee, it is. “If you don’t want a job—”

“No, I do,” she tells me quickly. “I really do. I’m just taking it all in.” She pushes up her glasses. “It’s my first time on my own…”

“Lo mentioned that to me.” I’ve never been on my own. I’ve always had him, and I can’t imagine being seventeen and deciding to journey off to another state in pursuit of happiness. It’s something Daisy would’ve done, if she grew the courage.

Willow says she’s not adventurous like my little sister, but this seems like a pretty big adventure to me.

“Your mom said that you can always go home. She left that door open for you, right…?” I trail off, distracted by a
Celebrity Crush
tabloid on the counter. An employee must’ve left it behind. Normally, I’d itch to read a couple headlines and flip through.

I pick up the magazine and go to trash it, doing the sensible thing. I think Ryke would be the proudest of all.

“Yeah,” Willow nods. “It’s always open.”

“That’s good,” I say, a little absentminded as I toss the magazine in the trash. Ha! Take that Wendy Collins, staff writer and my arch nemesis. Before I close the lid, I do accidentally catch a peek of one headline:
Lily Calloway & Loren Hale Wedding Rumors!

Nope. I refuse to believe they’ve leaked. We’re keeping everything private and under wraps. This one peaceful day can’t be ruined. I shut the trash lid and raise my chin like Rose would. I feel confident, but I’m sure I look silly.

Near me, Maya slips behind the register, counting the cash. “Roomie, come. Let me teach you, young wise one.”

Willow smiles a little more as she follows Maya, her new roommate. Lo offered our house to his half-sister. We have plenty of extra rooms, but she didn’t want to intrude. I think it’s overwhelming. There’s so many of us, and she’s still trying to get used to a new place.

Maya is only twenty, and her old roommate just left for California, so it just all worked out. Now Willow will finish her senior year here and I suppose contemplate college. Normal stuff. Life doesn’t stop when you take a new road. It always finds a way to go on.

A loud knock on the glass door jolts me awake. Especially as Garth emerges from the break room at the sound. My big-boned bodyguard hovers close to my side. I squint, distinguishing the face behind the glass door, the
closed
sign dangling near him.

My throat tightens.

It’s the hoodie guy, the one that Lo said was named Garrison. I bite my nail, hesitating to let him in. He knocks harder, and his narrowed eyes meet mine. They’re not full of terror and rage. He apprehensively shifts his body weight from one foot to the other.

I look up at Garth. “Maybe I should just hear him out?”

Garth, a very diplomatic man, nods and says, “Whatever you want.”

Okay. I trudge forward and tentatively unlock the door. When I peek my head out, Garrison draws his hoodie back, revealing his brown hair and boyish face.

He hesitantly glances over my shoulder. “Is Loren here?”

“No.” I don’t add that he’s at our house, preparing for the final Hale Co. meeting this afternoon. Where the board chooses the new CEO.

Garrison notices my bodyguard and he lets out a short, pained laugh. “Forget it. This was a mistake.” He’s about to turn around and leave.

“Wait,” I say quickly.

He freezes by the door, halfway turned.

“What do you want?”

He grinds his teeth like he has trouble producing the words. “Your boyfriend…he offered me and my friends a job.” Garrison rolls his eyes. “It’s fucking stupid anyway. Everything is.”

“Lo told me about that,” I say, swinging the door wider open. “Do you want to come in?” My stomach does this nervous flip thing, but it stops the minute his reddened, surprised eyes lock on mine.

“What?” he says in disbelief.

“If you want a job, you have to come into the store,” I tell him. “Although…” A light bulb flickers in my brain. “It’d be kinda cool if we had a superhero mascot out front. Do you want to be a mascot?”

“No,” he shakes his head like I’m half crazy and half a godsend. No one has really ever looked at me like that—the
godsend
half. I’ve been plenty crazy before.

He slowly walks inside, his hands in his jean pockets, more nervous, I think.

Garth blocks him though. “I need to pat you down.”

I think Garrison is going to put up a fight. But he spreads his arms out, and Garth pats his pockets and checks the hoodie handhold thing. When he finishes, Garth nods to me like
he’s good.

“So you want a job?” I can’t believe he’s taking Lo’s offer. I honestly didn’t think any of them would bite.

Garrison can’t stop staring at me, his emotions surfacing, ones that he probably meant to suppress. “You’re not even going to ask me where I was that night? Or what happened?”

Oh. Maybe I was supposed to start with that. I just didn’t want to scare him off, after I saw how much it took for him to come here. “Where were you?” I ask, reluctant to hear his answer.

He stares up at the ceiling in thought, shaking his head. “I’m not a good guy. I never told them to stop. I knew that they planned to break in and scare everyone, and I didn’t do anything. I just let them leave.” He chokes on another laugh. “And now they’re all looking at a year in prison. And I’m standing free.”

He doesn’t look free to me. “What made you stay back?”

His gaze drops to the carpeted floor. “Everything your boyfriend said…fuck, I don’t know. It just didn’t feel right, scaring girls and babies…I know one of you has PTSD…”

I go rigid, and my mouth falls. “Wha…?” That has been a fact we’ve all kept secret from the public.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” he says quickly. “I promise. I can’t even remember who let it slip. Either Ryke or Loren shouted it at me. No one else was around.” He hangs his head again. “I think…you should know that I planned to go with my friends.”

He bites his lips to keep more emotions at bay. A lump lodges in my throat. I see my best friend, a young Loren Hale who has so many muddled and warring sentiments swirling around him. The pain of living. It’s in Garrison’s eyes.

“I literally could not move my stupid feet,” he finally says. “And there’s a part of me that wishes I was with them. That I got caught too.”

It’s just guilt. I swallow hard and say, “You did the right thing.”

“Did I?” he asks and shakes his head again. “I can’t even say
I’m sorry
because it feels fucking stupid. Like…” He runs a hand through his hair. “Like it’s not enough, you know? It’s not at all.”

“This was enough,” I tell him softly. “I promise, it was.” I can’t even imagine Lo finding his way here at seventeen, saying these guttural, painful things to absolve himself.

Loren Hale walked in agony for another half decade.

He’d be happy to learn that he saved someone from that today.

Garrison rubs his eyes with the sleeve of his black hoodie, and then he exhales deeply and scans the store like Willow had previously done.

“Here, I’ll introduce you to Maya, the store manager. She’ll have a better idea what positions need to be filled.” I lead him over to the counter where Lo’s little sister and Maya stand behind the register.

“Hey,” Garrison greets the girls with a head nod.

As soon as Willow hears the male voice, she somehow knocks into the cash tray. It overturns and clatters to the floor.

“I’m
so
sorry,” she says, her skin paling. The opposite of my embarrassed red flush. She sheepishly smiles at me, avoiding direct eye contact with Garrison. She bends down to collect the money while Maya fiddles with the computer.

“I can help,” Garrison says, squatting to gather dollar bills and quarters.

Oh jeez. I watch the way he furtively glimpses at Willow while she clumsily scoops the cash. I know that look. It’s one that says
you’re pretty and interesting and I want to get to know you
all wrapped in one.

Before any flirting occurs, I do what Lo would want and slip between them. “Okay, now you’ve met Willow and Willow you’ve met Garrison. Meet-and-greet has ended.” I’ll have to text Lo to see if I should maybe put them on separate shifts.

While I’d like Superheroes & Scones to be a geeky match-making facility, Willow is off-limits. Lo said to keep an eye on any “creepy guys” and mentioned that if a Captain America fanatic hits on her, he’s clearly not good enough. Willow deservers Scott Summers and above.

It was the most overprotective, cutest superhero reference he’s used in a while.

“Are you new here?” Garrison makes small talk.

No small talk. That’s off-limits too. “Yep. Yep, everyone’s new,” I say rapidly. “Willow, can you get my purse from the break room?” I didn’t bring a purse, so it’ll take her some time. Smart thinking. I internally pat myself on the shoulder.

“Sure.” She struggles to fit the cash tray back into the register.

“I can do it,” Maya tells her, taking over.

Willow leaves to the break room, but she stops midway like she lost something. “My backpack…”

Garrison finds it on the ground before I do. “This?” He picks up the old jean backpack and carries it to her.

Their fingers brush as he passes it to Willow. “Thanks,” she says, as pale as a ghost.

I give up. Maybe in another life, I was cupid and foretold every relationship there ever was. I smile at that thought. I prophesied them all except my very own.

{ 68 }

LOREN HALE

“You ready?” I ask Ryke as we step into the Hale Co. elevators that’ll bring us to the board room. His unkempt hair is barely combed, the sleeves of his white button-down rolled to his forearms. He even ditched a suit jacket.

I thought for sure I’d be meeting someone besides my brother today. I’d come face-to-face with the Ryke Meadows that’s been buttoning his shirts to the collar, tying wide-ties, riding to the offices in a car, not a motorcycle.

“I usually ask you that,” he says under his breath, quiet enough that I don’t comment on it.

I try to ignore the tension and punch the button. “You look like yourself today.” I gesture to his hair. “Just rolled out of bed, grabbed the first thing on the floor.” I’m about to joke more, but he’s not smiling or laughing.

His shoulders remain strict. We’re about to cement one of our futures, and Ryke believes neither is good. I don’t know anymore. This elevator doesn’t seem like a ride to hell or to a cage. Somewhere from the beginning to now, I’ve changed.

“Ryke—”

“I tried to be different so I could beat you at this,” he suddenly says. “To help you. And I could barely stomach it.”

“For what it’s worth,” I say, “I’m glad you changed back.”

He nods repeatedly, staring at the floor while we stand side-by-side. The elevator doors have already closed, and we’ve begun to rise. “I need to tell you something,” he breathes. He turns his head to me. “I got tested, at the hospital.”

My brows pull together. “To see if you can donate?”

“Yeah.” He waits a second, struggling to explain himself. “I’m a match.”

I open my mouth, not sure what to say.

“Crazy, right?” he says roughly. “Who would’ve fucking thought that I’d be Dad’s one chance at life?”

“You don’t have to do anything,” I remind him, my stomach at my knees.

Ryke runs his fingers through his hair, not confused or uncertain. “Regardless of what happens today,” he says, “I’ve made a decision about the transplant surgery.”

“Yeah?” I frown. I can’t place what I hope he’ll say. I just want everyone to live, but the cost of my dad living is high.

Then he stares right at me, with that stubborn self-confidence Ryke possesses, and he says, “I’m not doing this for him. I’m fucking doing this for
me
.” He points at his chest. “Because I can’t live with myself knowing that I could’ve helped him and I did
nothing
.”

I’m surprised but then I’m not. He’s the most compassionate person I’ve ever met. Without asking, he helped me stay sober for years on end. He became friends with a lonely girl who needed one. He watched over her when no one else did.