I peel off the washcloth from her forehead.
“Thanks, Lily,” she whispers to me.
My heart swells. I recognize that my addiction (and all the nasty media attention it brought) is the origin of her pain. But it’s not guilt that makes me want to be here for Daisy. It’s just purely out of love for my sister.
“Lily, your foot,” Rose says with a scrunched face.
I glance down. Lucky Lucky Lavender is spilt all over my toes, and my left nails are half painted.
Daisy says, “I’ll redo them.”
Rose fans herself. “You won’t have time. The minute Ryke barrels in here, he’ll want to hold you.” She rolls her eyes, but she adds, “It’s sort of cute.”
I picture that embrace leading to other sensual acts. But I don’t think about it too hard. I squirm a little, clenching my thighs. “At least you’ll probably get laid tonight,” I say to Daisy and nudge her hip. That would be a definite perk in my book. But not by Ryke Meadows. With Lo. Separately. I nod resolutely in my mind and avoid a dark red blush.
“I’m on my period,” Daisy says, her cheeks still pale. “So that’s out.”
We’re all quiet for a second, and I can’t hold it in. “Just have sex in the shower.” I’m surprising myself, more open than usual. Maybe all the sex talks I have with Ryke are subconsciously helping a little bit. I can share some tips without needing a desk to hide under.
“We’ve never done it like that. It’d be weird,” she says.
My brows crinkle. “You’ve never done it in the shower?” Wait. I hold up my hands. “Ryke says he’s done it in the woods before. But he’s never done it in there?” I point at the glass doors of their giant shower with three different nozzles and spigots, plus fancy cobblestone wall-tiles.
Rose looks fascinated by this talk, her back straightened and eyes alert.
“We’ve done it there, just not on my period.” Daisy isn’t shy about her love life with Ryke, which I really like. It makes it easier talking to her about Lo. “Isn’t it gross?” she asks.
“It’s worth it…” I trail off. “Though I may not be the best source. I’ve been known to rank sex above food.”
Daisy laughs softly. I’m glad I can joke about my addiction now. I even smile.
“How about a sleepover in the guest room?” Rose asks Daisy. “We’ll redo Lily’s toenails and sleep in the king-sized bed.”
“I’ll kick you,” Daisy suddenly says. “If we sleep in the same bed, I mean. I move a lot and could kick you in the womb or something and then you’ll both miscarry because of me.” She inhales sharply.
“Then you’re doing me a favor.”
“Rose!” I shout.
She rolls her eyes again, regret flashing in them. She’s not filtering anything lately. “It’s hot in here.” She fans herself some more, sweat beading her forehead.
“Maybe you should sit down,” Daisy suggests.
“I’ll sit down after we’ve plotted our retaliation and our plans tonight. They’re more important.” She likes to pretend her pregnancy has no side effects on her, even though she was the one hit with bad morning sickness. I thankfully bypassed that.
“I vote sleepover and TPing.” I raise my hand in the air just as hurried footsteps sound and the door whooshes open.
3
LILY CALLOWAY
Ryke bounds into his bathroom first, followed quickly by Lo and then Connor. As they stand towering above us, a new tension strains the air, and I think we all feel our dynamic shifting just a bit. It used to be Daisy and Ryke on the outside of the inner circle.
Now it’s guys versus girls.
We scrutinize them while they do the same to us, measuring our wellbeing from afar. I notice the red marks on Lo’s shoulder and ribs, splashed with blue and orange paint. Ryke has similar paintball imprints. It’s safe to assume they were shot. My stomach tosses. They were shot. That phrase—no. I don’t want to picture anything like that happening.
“I hope those guys look ten million times worse than the two of you,” Rose says, slicing through the tension.
“They’re teenagers,” Lo says flatly. They must’ve let them go.
“Perfect, we’ll just call their parents.”
The guys are quiet, and Ryke hasn’t taken his eyes off Daisy. I can tell that she’s embarrassed by what happened and the extra attention that bears down on her. She lifts her legs to her chest, shielding her boobs (and see-through shirt) from the guys. I watch her pick at the white inside of her cast, and then she sets her cheek back on my shoulder.
“Hello?” Rose snaps her fingers at them and then zeroes in on Connor, his hands in the pockets of his black slacks. “You.”
“We’re not tattling, Rose.”
She glares. “Please. It’s not tattling. It’s justice.”
“It’s both. Though the tattling will undoubtedly outweigh the justice.”
Ryke and Lo approach us while Connor walks over to Rose by the sink.
“Dais…” Ryke whispers, squatting down, eye-level with her. The concern in his face clenches my heart in different ways. I’ve always wanted my sister to find someone that cares for her, so deeply, but I never thought that someone would be related to Loren Hale. I will always love that extra bond I share with Daisy, for however long her relationship does last.
I’m rooting for them to go on forever.
She lifts her head up and finally meets his eyes. Tears spill off her lashes, cascading down the long scar on her cheek. “I…” Her chin trembles, and I have a suspicion she was about to say overreacted but stopped herself short.
Ryke sits in front of Daisy and spreads his legs around her, so when he draws her close, she fits right against his chest. It’s a tender, gentle embrace that I would’ve never expected from an aggressive guy like Ryke. But he has a soft side when it comes to my little sister.
She twists the baseball cap front-ways and lowers it, blocking her eyes from him and everyone else. Her body vibrates with heavier tears, and I’m not sure how to comfort her. She feels like she failed herself, upset that she had a panic attack over paintball guns and caused a scene.
Ryke holds her tightly, and her slender arms wrap around his bare chest. An impenetrable stone in a raging storm. That’s what Ryke Meadows has always been.
“Lily.” The sharp voice captures my attention. Lo stands above me. His amber-eyed focus is all mine to obtain. His features are deathly beautiful, the severely cut cheekbones and smooth Irish skin. I think: his baby is in me. It’s such a weird thought.
But it sweeps me in an electric current, sparking each nerve and adding an extra beat to my heart.
“Hi,” I breathe shallowly, like this is the first time I’ve ever seen him. My neck heats, no doubt with a vibrant red hue.
His lips rise in a gorgeous smile. “Lily,” he says my name again, huskily in a deep, sexual voice.
My body tingles. “Don’t do that,” I whisper-hiss, flushing more.
“Lily,” he repeats, subtly licking his bottom lip. Oh my God. I spring to my feet to pinch him or punch him in the ribs for teasing me with my name. Who does that? He didn’t even touch me yet. As soon as I land on my feet, the world spins one-hundred-and-eighty degrees. I teeter backwards as my vision blurs with black and white blinding spots.