“When Connor walked in, and Ryke came on your face—how embarrassed were you?”
All of Daisy’s sisters’ jaws unhinge. Daisy slumps down in the couch, her eyes wide in complete horror. I may have unleashed one of the few secrets still kept in the group.
I hear Sam mutter to Poppy, “Where am I?” He’s shielding his eyes with his hand. He’s known Daisy practically forever.
Connor is smiling into his wine glass, and Ryke looks like he wants to tear off my head—or maybe Connor’s.
“You f**king told him?” Ryke growls at Connor.
“Maybe a month ago,” Connor admits. “It was a good story. I felt guilty for keeping it to myself.”
“Fuck you,” Ryke curses.
Rose smacks Connor’s chest. “You walked in on them?”
“It was unintentional,” Connor says easily. “Though the timing was bad—or perfect, depending on the way you look at it.”
“There’s no good f**king way to look at it,” Ryke retorts.
“Had I not walked in right then, I don’t think you would’ve come on her face at all.”
Ryke groans. “Just stop f**king talking.”
“Daisy?” Lily says, reaching out to comfort her little sister, which instantly makes me feel like a dick. Well deserved, I know.
“It’s cool,” she says softly and then winces, for real. “I mean, what happened wasn’t cool. It was…” She meets my gaze. “…almost as embarrassing as this.”
Ryke pinches his eyes like he’s wishing he could go back in time.
Yeah, now I feel like shit. My muscles constrict in taut bands. It’s like every time I open my mouth, I eventually feel this pain. It’s regret too shallow, always finding a way to surface. And still, I’d rather keep it there, right on the brink.
This guilt is what differentiates me from my father. I know this.
I watch Ryke lift Daisy onto his lap so she’s not slumping in humiliation. He wraps an arm protectively around her collarbones, above her chest, and keeps shooting Connor and me an I f**king hate you right now look. It’s weak in comparison to our dad. And Connor is hardly even perturbed, just casually drinking his wine.
“Truth or dare?” Daisy suddenly asks Lily.
Lily goes rigid. “Truth?” she says unsurely.
I wait for the how many inches is Loren Hale? That’s the vindictive question I would’ve shot back in her position. Rose would’ve too. Anything to embarrass me. That question doesn’t upset me though—but it’s not something I would want to willingly advertise.
Daisy plays too nice with me and asks Lily, “What’s your biggest pet peeve about Lo?”
Lil tilts her chin up at me, and I stare down at her. “When you won’t let me hold the comic book because you think that I’ll crease the pages.”
I almost laugh. “That’s your biggest issue with me, love?”
She says, “It’s much more annoying than you realize.” She nods adamantly about this.
I’m possessive over my comics—that hasn’t changed since forever. “I won’t even let anyone else but you borrow seventy-five percent of them.”
“I appreciate that,” she says. “But some of them are mine.”
“This is also true.” I realize I’m possessive over all comics then.
Lily has another turn to ask a truth or dare, and she focuses on Ryke this time. Only she’s avoiding his eyes. Great. She’s still scared of him after being aroused by basically the entire male population. Fictional and real.
“Truth or dare?” Lily asks, her voice quiet.
“Dare,” Ryke says, even more pissed by her cagy attitude. “Can you look at me?”
“No.”
He groans. “Why do you keep acting like I have a disease, Lily?”
I cut in, trying to make this easier for her, especially as she turns bright red again, “It’s not your turn to ask questions.”
Ryke glowers. “I really don’t want to f**king talk to you right now.”
Fine. I’m mostly to blame for his sour mood anyway. I nudge Lil, and she straightens up.
“I dare you to…do a handstand for thirty seconds.”
Sam finally drops his palm at this chaste dare. I wonder if there’s a possibility that fatherhood made him more conservative.
My hand falls to Lily’s abdomen. Kick, I stupidly command to our son.
Yeah, he does nothing, and I end up rubbing circles with my thumb on Lil’s stomach. She places her hand on top of mine. I exhale the restraint in my lungs.
I can’t even fathom how much I may change after having a kid. I wonder whether it’ll be a better me or a worse one.
To follow through with the dare, Daisy slides off my brother’s lap, and then Ryke rises to his feet. He easily places his palms on the ground and uses his upper-body strength to force his legs erect. Camera flashes from cellphones go off in waves.
Lily isn’t even watching Ryke, but Daisy leans over the couch armrest and whispers to her boyfriend. She must say something funny because his dark expression brightens a fraction.
When he finishes, easily landing back on his feet, he returns to the couch and holds Daisy again.
“I hoped you would roll over,” Connor quips. “I didn’t even get to rub your belly.”
Ryke is not amused. He doesn’t even flip him off this time. Shit.
Connor acts like he’s not intimidated, but the look in my brother’s eye—one that says attack—is not usually directed at us. I recoil as he says to Connor, “Dare or f**king dare?”
Connor finishes off his wine and sets the empty glass on the coffee table between the two couches. “I know in your own made-up language, adding a curse word changes the definition of the subsequent word, but to the rest of us, it’s all the same.”
“Dare or f**king dare?” Ryke doesn’t back down.
Connor takes his hand off Rose’s and he rubs his lips, as though trying to hide his irritation. But I can’t tell for sure. “I pick the only choice you’re giving me.”
And then Ryke says, without missing a beat, “Kiss Loren. For thirty f**king seconds.”
Yeah.
He got us both back in one strike.
My stomach has caved.
And my eyes flit up to Connor, who is studying me, mostly. I can’t read his expression, but he’s definitely not uncomfortable like most people would be.
I’m confident in my sexuality enough to do the dare—I just worry about the cameras pointed at us and how this’ll affect his reputation more than my own. He has more to lose, being the CEO of Cobalt Inc.
I notice that Sam has covered his eyes again, acting like this is not happening. It may not.
“Can’t f**king do it?” Ryke challenges Connor, who I doubt has ever quit a game, even a “juvenile” one.
Without removing his gaze from mine, Connor says, “I’m just weighing my options.” He’s not Rose. Ryke’s phrase would’ve egged her to do it, too prideful not to—but Connor is more logical about his actions.
And then he rises. “Stand up,” he commands to me.
“Are you sure—”
“I can handle the backlash,” he says, and his eyes briefly flicker to Ryke. I get it. He values his friendship with Ryke this much—that he’s willing to risk criticism or a new headline in the tabloids just to even the playing fields again. “Stand up.”