Addicted After All (8 page)

Lo passes me his iPod that’s connected to the stereo system. This is the best part of being the side passenger. I have complete control over the music. That and I’m in touching distance of Loren Hale.

I cross my legs on the black leather seat and glance back at Daisy, her head on Ryke’s lap while she curls in a ball. “Theories?” she asks everyone about what’s going to happen with Jonathan.

I scroll through the iPod. “I think he’s just lonely.”

Lo taps the steering wheel. “He says it’s important.”

“He thinks brunch and golf is fucking important,” Ryke says roughly, his arm stretches along the black leather seat. It looks like he’s giving the Audi a little hug. His eyes suddenly land on me. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”

“Can’t a person smile at you?” I say.

“No,” he deadpans.

I flip my hair at him as I turn around, feeling cooler than I know I look, and I find my favorite song in the whole wide universe of brilliant tunes. The moment the electronic beats start blaring through the speakers, I turn the volume way up. It’s the only way to listen to Skrillex’s “
Bangarang
.”

Lo’s lips rise the moment he hears the song, as though memories and sentiments flood him. We’ve had good bedroom dance parties to this one. And epic sex against the wall.

Ryke groans while I start head-bobbing and shoulder dancing. If I wasn’t in a car, I’d be grinding up on Lo. This song deserves some body contact.

“This song fucking sucks,” Ryke declares.

I immediately freeze, and my jaw drops.

With one hand on the wheel, Lo uses his free one to shoot Ryke the middle finger. Ha! I stick my tongue out at him, a very immature slight, but I feel younger again with Lo. Like when we were teenagers, drowning out everything else.

Daisy is laughing so hard, her medicine probably kicking in.

Ryke says, “If your kid inherits your musical taste, I’m going to fucking rip my hair out.”

I smile. I kind of hope Maximoff does.

“Shit,” Lo curses, his jaw muscles twitching. Through his window, I notice a tan mini-van in the next lane, matching the Audi’s speed. I highly doubt the van is full of preteens and a soccer mom.

The paparazzi must’ve either seen us leave the neighborhood or they were tipped on our whereabouts. I have battled a lot of my “going out in public” phobias, but having a van tucked so close to Lo makes me nervous.

I bite my nails, and I shift so my heel is pressed to the spot between my legs.

“Try speeding up,” Ryke suggests while Daisy lifts her head off his lap to peek at the paparazzi. The van window rolls down and a cameraman points the lens at the Audi’s tinted glass. I doubt he’ll have any good shots, but he snaps photos anyway, flashes blinking.

Lo shifts the manual car into another gear, going about twenty over the speed limit on an uncongested two-lane road.

I lower the volume of the song so he can concentrate.

“Turn it back up,” Lo tells me, his voice only slightly edged. He doesn’t look panicked and neither does Ryke, so I increase the stereo volume once more. He switches into the left lane and then checks the rearview mirror.

“My theory,” Daisy says to lessen the tension, “is that Jonathan wants us to host some kind of charity function for him. Like PR stuff.”

“That’s a pretty good theory,” I nod. I can see that happening. My finger stings…I nibbled the nail to the bed. Shit.

“Lil, put your feet on the floor,” Lo tells me. He must notice the position of my heel.

“You should be watching the road,” I say as I set my soles on the floor mat, but I clench my thighs together, kind of hoping for a stronger pressure, just to take away this anxiety. A climax sounds nice.

Stop, Lily.

“I can multitask,” he says, checking the rearview again. “Connor Cobalt didn’t patent that skill—goddammit.”

The stupid van has caught up to our car, and I squirm uneasily in the seat. Lo looks to me for a second, “
Lil
.”

I flinch at his reprimanding tone. My hand is creeping like a criminal between my legs.
Nonono
. I raise my palms in the air, surrendering. “I’m fine. I promise.”

His concern has elevated to extreme proportions. “Maybe we shouldn’t go to this meeting—”

“Nonono. I can do this. Lo, please.” My eyes widen like
believe in me.

He studies my state of being, his gaze flitting from the road to me. And then he nods. “Hey, bro,” he calls back to Ryke. “I’m going to pull off the side of the road. Lil and I are going to switch with you and Daisy.”

“Fine with me,” Ryke says, actually looking happy about driving.

Lo is
this
worried about my anxiety. “I’m okay,” I try to convince him.

“I lied,” Lo tells me, slowing down onto the emergency lane. He parks the Audi and snaps off his buckle. “I can’t multitask.”

Oh. I lick my dry lips. “Okay.”

I unclick my seatbelt. The van parks ahead of us, the doors already opening. We’re on public property so they have every right to take photos. By the time we all step out of the Audi, two cameramen have left their van to snap pictures.

“Lily, look right here,” one of them calls out.

I’ve learned not to take the camera bait, focusing on Lo’s car and nothing else.

As Ryke passes his brother, he flips off both camera guys, and the flashbulbs blink repeatedly.

“Is Lily pregnant with your baby?” one asks Ryke.

“Daisy, how do you feel about Ryke sleeping with your sister?”

My stomach somersaults. I hate that she’s still being affected by my mistakes.

Except for Ryke’s middle fingers, none of us answer the paparazzi. We slip into our new seats, and Lo immediately wraps his arm around my waist, his hands in mine. It’s affection and touch that calms my nerves by a few degrees.

Ryke and Daisy buckle their seatbelts, and then Daisy reaches
deep
into Ryke’s
front
pocket…

Uhhh…I grow unexpectedly hot, and I can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or something worse. I try to convince myself it’s the former.

I look around to see if anyone notices what she’s doing, but Lo is texting, probably his father. And Ryke is adjusting his seat and mirrors.

Daisy retrieves Ryke’s smart phone and plugs it into the stereo. I relax a little. My mind is a dirty, dirty place.

“You two…” Ryke rotates to look at me and his little brother. “Put your fucking seatbelts on.”

“Just don’t kill me,” Lo says as we both buckle. “I’m too young to die.” He flashes his signature half-smile.

Ryke reverses the car, even with one hand on the wheel. He drives with much more precision than Lo, but Ryke succumbs to road rage the fastest out of everyone. In my opinion, it’s not a very good tradeoff.

Daisy chooses a song I vaguely recall, and I spot the title in the dashboard screen: “
Dark Center of the Universe
” by Modest Mouse. I bet it’s more of a “Ryke” song since she usually goes for the upbeat tunes and less angsty ones.

The moment Ryke shifts the car out of reverse, we go from zero to I’m-gonna-die. I wrap my arm around my belly and then clutch Lo’s leg.

“He’s gonna kill us,” I whisper-hiss to Lo.

He’s too busy watching the cameramen jump back into their van to reply.

“There aren’t any cops in twenty miles,” Daisy tells Ryke.

I frown. “How do you know that?”

She waves her cell. “An app.”

My daredevil little sister
would
have an app alerting her of nearby policemen.

“Bonnie and Clyde,” Lo says dryly, “we’re not robbing a bank. And really, I don’t want to know what gets you off. K, thanks.”

Ryke leans forward to look out the window. “Motherfuckers.”

Yep, they’ve caught up to us.

He steps on the gas, and my lungs suddenly rocket to my throat. “OhmyGodohmyGod.” This is like one of those theme rides in amusement parks—the ones where I end up peeing a little bit because I’m terrified of heights.

Only this is worse because Ryke is operating the machinery.

He slams on the
brakes
. “Hold on,” he tells us, the warning coming way too late.

I think I just peed. I check my crotch. Not that much. Thank God.

Lo clasps my hand while the van speeds ahead and Ryke swerves through the grassy median into the lanes going the
other
way. Now we’re headed in the opposite direction of the van. And the country club.

Daisy is not only smiling like this is the best experience she’s had all week, but she lowers the window and sticks her hand out.

They are really meant for each other.

“You both are insane,” Lo says matter-of-factly. “You shouldn’t worry about children because I don’t think either of you will live long enough to have any.”

Daisy mock gasps. “Too late. I’m already pregnant.”

“Cute, Calloway,” Ryke says, speeding up and pulling off the nearest exit so he can go a new way. He’s still speeding.

“Should we start praying?” I whisper to Lo. “Or maybe if we concentrate hard enough our teleportation powers will kick in and we can blink away.” I pause. That’s really selfish, leaving Ryke and Daisy to fend for themselves. “Or maybe we’ll be able to stop time.”

And that’s when a giant white Trailblazer merges into our lane and hits our Audi, crashing into the driver’s door and the one nearest Lo.

The side airbags pop and little bitty pieces of glass rain down on both Ryke and Loren, crunchy like gravel.

“
Fuck
,” Ryke curses. We must’ve been in their blind spot.

The seatbelt has dug hard on my belly, and I feel more wetness between my legs. I solidify, wondering if it’s something worse than just pee. Ryke has to pull over into a nearby gas station with the Trailblazer, especially since the Audi is driving strange.

“I think the wheels are fucking bent,” Ryke says. Daisy turns off the stereo and brushes some of the glass out of Ryke’s hair.

I should do the same to Lo, but my eyes are just too wide, transfixed on one issue. I open my legs and peer down, but I can’t see much since my leggings are black.

“Lil?” Lo says, worry edging his voice. I can’t move.

Ryke tries to open his car door, but it’s jammed. Daisy climbs out the Audi first, then Ryke crawls over the middle console and exits. I’m next.

I can’t move.

“
Lily
,” Lo forces my name and cups my face, turning it to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I either peed or…” My eyes burn.

Lo glances down at my lap. “You’re bleeding?”

“I don’t know,” I say in one tight breath.

He lifts up my sweater and tugs at the band of my leggings to peer down. After pulling at my panties, we both see a few droplets of blood.

“Lo…” I say, tears welling.

“It’s probably nothing…” But he already has his phone out, dialing a number. I’m guessing 911. He kisses my temple and then whispers, “Climb out. I’m right behind you.”

I swallow a lump and step out of the car. Police sirens blare in the distance, and glass sprinkles the pavement. The Trailblazer isn’t as beat up as our smaller car, but the driver is still inspecting his bumper.

“Daisy,” Ryke says, his voice full of concern.

My head whips to the side, and I spot my little sister leaning against the Audi’s hood. She stares faraway, lost in her mind it seems. Ryke keeps waving a hand at her, but she’s not even responding.

“
Daisy
, fucking look at me.”

“What…” She blinks in a daze, and her arms tremble. It’s like she’s somewhere else entirely, maybe back in Paris, in the riot, where her face was scarred. The sirens and wreck could’ve triggered the trauma from that night.

Lo emerges from the Audi and immediately places his hands on my hips. “Lily,” he whispers, “an ambulance is coming. I just want to get you checked out. As a precaution, okay?” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear.

I bite my gums to keep my watery gaze at bay. “What about the meeting with your dad?”

“I’ve texted him.” He hugs me to his chest. “It’s probably nothing,” he says again.

Yeah. It’s probably nothing.

I feel a hot tear escape. I’m at the mercy of fate. It’s a cruel thing. To be in the hands of the universe.

Forces that are rarely on our side.

{ 9 }

LOREN HALE

“I just wish I could feel him,” Lily says.

She rests on the hospital bed, one of her palms on her lower abdomen. I hold her other hand, standing beside her while we wait for the ER doctor to return and do an ultrasound.

“I mean, I know I haven’t felt him before. But now I just really wish he’d kick or move, just to let me know that he’s…” Tears build in her green eyes, her cheeks splotched with red.

I squeeze her hand. “He’s fine,” I say, my voice more edged than I like. My pulse hasn’t slowed.
I don’t want to lose him
—it’s a realization that crushes my lungs.

I don’t want to lose this kid that I never even wanted.

He’s a piece of me and Lily, and most people would consider that a tainted, damaged thing. But the more I think about it—and the longer she carries
our
child—I recognize all of the good parts of us.

They fucking exist.

And there is a hope, a chance, that he could be more than what I am. That he could be better than me.

Lily sniffs, and I wipe beneath her eyes with my thumb. I turn my head to check on my brother.

By the door, Ryke sits hunched over. A cellphone on his lap. His face buried in his hands. He’s apologized about a hundred times.

Once for my totaled car, ninety-nine times for Lily.

“It’s not your fault,” I say for the fiftieth. The car hit
us.
It was just a freak accident.

“I was speeding,” Ryke says, dropping his hands. His eyes are bloodshot. Mine remain dry and continue to burn, so I’m guessing they mirror his.

“Not by much.” He slowed down by that point.

His phone buzzes, and he quickly picks it up. His face contorts. “She’s getting fucking psych evaluated.” He tried to follow Daisy to her hospital room, but a nurse told him
family only
and so he was shuffled to ours.