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Authors: Krista Ritchie, Becca Ritchie
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swig.
Ryke starts to stretch, pulling his arm across his chest.
“Have you spoken to Jonathan?”
“No.” I leave it at that, not wanting to be probed about my
father. No one really understands my relationship with him. Not Lily.
Definitely not Ryke.
And it’s more complicated than just hate and dislike. It’s
what drives my mind wild. It’s what makes me seriously want to kick that
fucking bleacher and grab a beer.
But I remember Lily, and I immediately tell myself no. No alcohol. Ever. One memory has
kept me grounded for a while, deaf to any compelling arguments from the devil
on my shoulder. It’s what stopped me from heading into that bar yesterday.
In my foggy memory, I wake up, glazed and half-delirious to
the people in my kitchen. Rose, Connor and Ryke camped out in my living room
like the Scooby Gang. And the three of them told me the night’s events—as
though I wasn’t even there. My body was, but my head was floating in another
dimension.
And Ryke was the only one who could stomach the words. “You
fucking passed out while a guy attacked Lily.”
And “attack” was an understatement. Something could have
happened that night. But it didn’t. Ryke and Connor stopped the guy when that
should have been me. My whole life, I had one fucking job. Protect Lily. Make
sure her addiction doesn’t get the better of her. Make sure she doesn’t get
hurt. She did the same for me. And I failed her. Somewhere down the line, I
fucked up.
Never again.
Ryke holds out his arms like what the hell , and I remember what he asked me. Have you spoken to Jonathan?
“I said no,” I tell him again, like the answer isn’t
registering in his head.
“ No , that’s it?”
Ryke wants more. Everyone wants more.
But I feel like I’m giving everything I have.
“I thought it was a yes or no question. What else is there?” Lots. But nothing I can bear to say
out loud. My father left me a few messages on my phone the past week.
I want to have lunch,
Loren.
We need to talk.
Don’t push me out of
your life over something this fucking stupid.
Call me back.
I’ve ignored him so far, but I can’t forever. There’ll be a
point where I’ll have to face my father. It won’t be for money, but the allure
of a handout will always be there. Because it’s so fucking easy. Drinking,
that’s easy. Taking his money, that’s easier.
The hard things are the right things, I’ve learned. But I’m
not Connor Cobalt—built with the infallible ability to go the extra mile, to do
the extra work. I’m the kinda guy that always stops short.
But I do have a plan for some cash. The only problem—it
involves a conversation with Rose Calloway.
“He’s going to try to buy you back,” Ryke tells me. “That’s
what he fucking does, and you’re going to have to say no. He’s your fucking
trigger, Lo. You shouldn’t be around him while you’re recovering.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, lugging my bag over my
shoulder. Most days, I regret asking Ryke to be my sponsor. Even if he’s pretty
good at it. Trigger or not, Jonathan Hale is my father. Ryke doesn’t understand him the way I do.
He’s not all bad.
{ 7 }
LILY CALLOWAY
My second test score came back last week, and it
was a big fat F. I knew transferring from an Ivy League to another Ivy League
wasn’t the cure for my poor grades, but I hoped that Princeton would kick my
lazy butt into gear. With Rose running around the same campus as me, I should
be more motivated. Plus, my hours are no longer wasted away on porn and
self-love. But I didn’t predict that my time would be consumed by therapy in
New York and trying to rebuild my relationships with my sisters. Getting
healthy and making amends is almost as big a time bandit as wallowing in my
addiction.
I have so many issues to deal with that school is that last
thing on my mind, when it should probably be the first. Lo may be back but time
doesn’t stop for us, and I can’t fail my
Ryke starts to stretch, pulling his arm across his chest.
“Have you spoken to Jonathan?”
“No.” I leave it at that, not wanting to be probed about my
father. No one really understands my relationship with him. Not Lily.
Definitely not Ryke.
And it’s more complicated than just hate and dislike. It’s
what drives my mind wild. It’s what makes me seriously want to kick that
fucking bleacher and grab a beer.
But I remember Lily, and I immediately tell myself no. No alcohol. Ever. One memory has
kept me grounded for a while, deaf to any compelling arguments from the devil
on my shoulder. It’s what stopped me from heading into that bar yesterday.
In my foggy memory, I wake up, glazed and half-delirious to
the people in my kitchen. Rose, Connor and Ryke camped out in my living room
like the Scooby Gang. And the three of them told me the night’s events—as
though I wasn’t even there. My body was, but my head was floating in another
dimension.
And Ryke was the only one who could stomach the words. “You
fucking passed out while a guy attacked Lily.”
And “attack” was an understatement. Something could have
happened that night. But it didn’t. Ryke and Connor stopped the guy when that
should have been me. My whole life, I had one fucking job. Protect Lily. Make
sure her addiction doesn’t get the better of her. Make sure she doesn’t get
hurt. She did the same for me. And I failed her. Somewhere down the line, I
fucked up.
Never again.
Ryke holds out his arms like what the hell , and I remember what he asked me. Have you spoken to Jonathan?
“I said no,” I tell him again, like the answer isn’t
registering in his head.
“ No , that’s it?”
Ryke wants more. Everyone wants more.
But I feel like I’m giving everything I have.
“I thought it was a yes or no question. What else is there?” Lots. But nothing I can bear to say
out loud. My father left me a few messages on my phone the past week.
I want to have lunch,
Loren.
We need to talk.
Don’t push me out of
your life over something this fucking stupid.
Call me back.
I’ve ignored him so far, but I can’t forever. There’ll be a
point where I’ll have to face my father. It won’t be for money, but the allure
of a handout will always be there. Because it’s so fucking easy. Drinking,
that’s easy. Taking his money, that’s easier.
The hard things are the right things, I’ve learned. But I’m
not Connor Cobalt—built with the infallible ability to go the extra mile, to do
the extra work. I’m the kinda guy that always stops short.
But I do have a plan for some cash. The only problem—it
involves a conversation with Rose Calloway.
“He’s going to try to buy you back,” Ryke tells me. “That’s
what he fucking does, and you’re going to have to say no. He’s your fucking
trigger, Lo. You shouldn’t be around him while you’re recovering.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, lugging my bag over my
shoulder. Most days, I regret asking Ryke to be my sponsor. Even if he’s pretty
good at it. Trigger or not, Jonathan Hale is my father. Ryke doesn’t understand him the way I do.
He’s not all bad.
{ 7 }
LILY CALLOWAY
My second test score came back last week, and it
was a big fat F. I knew transferring from an Ivy League to another Ivy League
wasn’t the cure for my poor grades, but I hoped that Princeton would kick my
lazy butt into gear. With Rose running around the same campus as me, I should
be more motivated. Plus, my hours are no longer wasted away on porn and
self-love. But I didn’t predict that my time would be consumed by therapy in
New York and trying to rebuild my relationships with my sisters. Getting
healthy and making amends is almost as big a time bandit as wallowing in my
addiction.
I have so many issues to deal with that school is that last
thing on my mind, when it should probably be the first. Lo may be back but time
doesn’t stop for us, and I can’t fail my
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