Текст книги "Addicted for Now"

Автор книги: Becca Ritchie

Соавторы: Krista Ritchie
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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 31 страниц)

{ 30 }
LILY CALLOWAY

Daisy steps forward for another shot, and she stumbles a little. I do not want her to be sick tonight. I put my hand on her shoulder and wave no to the server. “We’re good here.”

Daisy doesn’t fight me on the decision. When the server saunters away, I snatch Rose’s arm, and she wobbles in her four-inch heels.

My eyes bug.

I’ve only seen Rose break her stride once. Her heel caught in a metal grate in New York, and she burned those shoes afterwards to rid herself of bad joojoo. I think if Connor knew that she’s truly superstitious, he’d tease her for a solid century.

Melissa sidles next to me, and I must be giving off a distressed look because she says, “Your sisters are sloshed.” Announcing the obvious does not help.

The music changes into the theme song from Superman and it totally disorients me. I whip around, and impersonators on the stage are now dressed as various superheroes. Superman and Captain America stand on the tall balcony, a spotlight shining on them.

People start trying to edge closer to the stage, and someone bumps me from behind, almost losing my grip on Rose. “Watch it, buddy,” I snap at him, but it really loses its effect when my focus is on the superheroes. It’s my catnip.

The tempo starts to rise, and as the crescendo hits, Superman and Captain America leap from the balcony and fly to the square bar only feet from us.

Bullshit.

Cap cannot fly.

I’m so angry that they made Captain America have a superpower he really doesn’t possess that I don’t see the incoming body from my right. His arm rams my side so hard that I teeter, and Rose’s heels slide out from under her. She completely falls, dragging me with her. We’re both on the ground before I can make sense of anything else.

My bony hip digs into the hard concrete floor, and my skirt soaks in sticky alcohol. I don’t even want to think about what else could exist down here. I sit up and lose sight of Rose. Has she risen to her feet? But that’s unlikely considering she could barely stand on her heels.

My heart thuds. “Rose!” I call. The bodies cage me in, and I suddenly fear being stepped on and squashed like a little bug. But more than that, I fear the same thing happening to my inebriated sister. Before I make a move, two pairs of hands slide underneath my armpits and lift me right off the ground like I weigh as much as a bag of apples.

It has to be a guy.

A guy is touching me.

Abort. Abort. My mind has flashing signs, picturing some flirtation on his part as soon as I turn around. He helped me up, after all. I’m sure he’ll expect the damsel in distress to kiss him for his chivalry.

I contemplate running off, but he spins me around and places his hands on my cheeks. I jerk away on impulse.

“Lil.”

“Lo.” I take a breath of relief and willingly slide into his arms, my heart practically beating out of my chest. When my thoughts realign, I pull away quickly. “Where’s Rose?”

As soon as I say the words, confetti bursts from cannons, blocking my vision and coating the floor in slick paper. I take a step and slip again, Lo reaches out and catches me before I fall to the floor.

His arms are tucked behind my back, and the music pumps and streamers fly. I feel like it’s midnight on New Year’s Eve. He stares deep into my eyes, and he says, “Did you drink anything?”

I shake my head. I wouldn’t. Because then I wouldn’t be able to do this. I lean forward and kiss him on the lips. He pulls me into his body and lifts my back completely straight, swept up in the way our tongues dance together. But I retract first.

Even though I love Lo, even though I’d like nothing more than to kiss him—my sisters are lost somewhere. And I need to find them.

Lo sees the panic in my eyes again, and he gives me a look like I won’t let anything happen to them. I believe him. Now, more than ever, I believe that he’s here for me.

He grabs my hand and leads me through the congested area that’s teaming with bodies. “They’re really drunk,” I tell Lo over the music.

His cheekbones sharpen.

“What?” My pulse speeds. “What is it?”

He tugs me in front of him, his hands on my shoulders as we move, and he lowers his head so that his lips brush my ear. “They were drinking absinthe.”

What?! I don’t think the server mentioned what was in the glowing bottles. Rose would never be crazy enough to drink absinthe, something that’s too crazy for America.

On Halloween, Lo’s eighteenth birthday, we took a plane to Amsterdam just to buy a bottle. He claimed he wanted to get drunk with a green fairy, thinking he’d hallucinate. He ended up passing out within the hour, leaving me to watch over him in our hotel room.

I go into sister-mode and walk faster, my eyes open and alert for any signs of my effervescent blonde sister and my fashionable brunette one.

We find Rose first.

By a high table littered with empty cups and bottles, Connor holds her tight around the waist while she presses two firm hands on his shoulders, unsteady in her heels. He whispers in her ear, probably trying to convince her to take them off.

But a tiger would birth a baby lama sooner than Rose would be barefoot in a dirty club.

We approach them, and I hold onto Lo like a kid clutching the wall in a skating rink. “Is she okay?” I ask.

“I’m just fine, thank you,” Rose says. “But we need to contact the staff and have this mess cleaned up. The floor is filthy.” She motions to the floor that’s covered in sticky liquor and now little strips of confetti. Her nose crinkles at the table nearest her. The staff already starts sweeping streamers so that people don’t slip. “Ah, right on time.” She sways with a loopy smile, and then she stumbles without even taking a step. Connor rights her back up.

Lo can’t stop grinning.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

“For once, that’s not me.”

I can’t help but smile too.

“Don’t…patronize me, Loren!” Rose points her finger at him. “I’m calling my lawyers. Have you arrested for…” She hiccups. “…public indecency.”

“I’m pretty decent right now, actually,” Lo says, still smirking.

“How about we call it an early night?” Connor asks, his hands firmly on her hips. She doesn’t even seem to care. In fact, she leans back into him. This is probably the closest they’ve ever been, and yet it looks so natural.

“Yes, we have to tuck you into bed,” she tells him.

“No, darling, I’ll be tucking you into bed.”

She lets out a puff of air. “I’m perfectly fine. Look.” She holds out one hand and it shakes like she’s on crack. “Steady as rock.”

Connor looks to us. “I’m taking her to the car.”

“Connor Cobalt,” Rose says with a cluck of her tongue. “Is that a made up name?”

He sweeps his arm underneath her back and then, in one motion, lifts her effortlessly into his arms.

She plants her hand onto his chest, her eyes going wide. “Whoa. We need to tell the manager to slow down the carousel.”

His lips rise as she swings her legs and inspects the style of his buttons. I watch him carry her through the exit, just to make sure she’s safely out.

When she leaves, I spin around again, scanning all the girls, but none are blonde or tall enough to be my youngest sister. “Where’s Daisy?” I ask Lo. The last time I remember seeing her was before the superheroes took to the stage and hypnotized me.

He searches the club with a narrowed gaze. “I don’t see her.”

I spot Ryke by the bar, discussing something with Melissa.

And this one time, I do wish Melissa wasn’t here to distract Ryke from Daisy. Because he would have kept an eye on my sister during that confetti madness and the rush of people pushing to the stage. But instead, he was busy placating his somewhat-girlfriend. Just like we told him to.

This is our fault.

I am frantic with horrible feelings. I push my way ahead to Ryke, and Lo braces me with a hand on my waist so I don’t slip again.

“Hey,” Ryke says, turning to us when we arrive. His eyes flit around us really quickly. “Where’s Daisy?”

“We were going to ask if you saw her,” I say, more frightened now. He didn’t even go looking for Daisy as soon as he came down from the balcony. That would be a Ryke thing to do. Did we really scare him off that much? I bite my nails. We made a person who is so deeply caring become uncaring. How is that possible?! I am freaking out. Just a little. “I thought that you would know where she was.” My high-pitched voice causes his face to break.

And then he turns his attention to Lo. “You said you were going to get Daisy.”

Lo rubs the back of his head. “Lil fell on the ground. Everything was crazy…”

“Fuck,” Ryke curses, the word harsh on his lips. His muscles tighten.

Lo keeps rubbing his neck in anxiety.

“It’s okay,” I tell Lo before he’s assaulted by guilt. “No one is to blame.” We’ll find her. Hopefully.

He nods.

And before we can go search for Daisy, Melissa chimes in, her expression sour. “She’s probably running around here somewhere. I’m sure you and Lo can find her yourselves.”

No, we need Ryke. Lo will be worried about me falling on my ass so much that his attention will be split. I need someone who’s focused solely on finding her. And I’m too short to see much of anything in the crowd.

“Come on,” Melissa says, tugging Ryke towards the stage to dance.

He scowls darkly. “If you’re not going to help, you can go to the car.”

Melissa drops her hands. “Are you serious?”

“I’m not leaving a sixteen-year-old drunk girl in a fucking club!” he shouts at her like she’s not listening.

“They can take care of her! She’s not your sister or your responsibility, Ryke!”

“You don’t know me,” he sneers. “You don’t fucking get it.”

She steps into his face. “I didn’t come here to babysit!”

“Then leave!”

“Fuck you,” she snarls. Then she storms off, pushing through the mass of people with ease.

My heart is about to spring from my chest with every second we lose. “Let’s go.”

“Wait.” Ryke looks between Lo and me. “If I help, this is it. You two can’t be hounding me about her anymore. You can’t have it both fucking ways. I’m either ignoring her or I’m her friend. That’s it.”

“You’re her friend!” I exclaim, practically throwing my hands up in the air. I don’t want to waste any more time. “Okay, let’s go, please!”

Ryke doesn’t move. His eyes pin to Lo, waiting for his answer. I am tossing daggers into his eyes. I don’t have time for this. Daisy may not have time for this. I picture her drunk in the bathroom being gang raped by other people high on the green (or in this case blue) fairy. I shouldn’t have lost her. I should have kept her tethered to my arm.

“Lo!” I yell.

“Fine,” he says. “Fine.”

Ryke revives like someone struck him with a hot torch. He moves faster than I could have ever imagined. He slams bodies out of his way, on a mission from hell. Thank you, thank you, thank you, I chant each time he makes a new path for us.

“Don’t let go of my hand!” Lo shouts over the music, his fingers intertwined in mine.

We wind through the people, following Ryke to the bathrooms where a long line swerves. He walks towards the men’s bathroom and ignores the angry stares as he passes the line.

“Hey!” a guy shouts. “I’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes!”

Ryke glares. “I’m not pissing; I’m looking for someone.” He reaches the door, and the guy grabs him by the arm. Ryke literally throws his body weight at him, just to push him off. The guy topples backwards, giving Ryke enough time to open the door and disappear inside.

“I’m going to look in the girl’s bathroom,” I tell Lo, leaving him in the hallway. The girls stare with hot anger, their lips upturning snidely. My explanation blows over just about as easily as Ryke’s, but no one physically assaults me.

When I make it inside, the line extends here, the girls crammed in a row, waiting for an open stall. “Daisy!” I shout, checking each face. No, no, no. I peek beneath the stalls, searching for her gold sandals.

Red heels.

Black flats.

Sparkly platforms.

No, no, no.

I run back outside at the same time that Ryke exits the bathroom—without Daisy on his arm. He doesn’t hesitate or stop. He guides us to a long narrow hallway that appears reserved for staff.

“We should check outside,” Lo tells him. “She may have found the exit.”

“I want to be sure she’s not here,” Ryke says.

A door ends the hallway. And it’s literally marked employees only. Lo grabs Ryke’s arm before he rushes inside.

“We’re going to be thrown out of the club, and then we’re never going to find her.”

I pale.

And they both look down at me. I realize I squeaked, a petrified sound escaping.

“You two stay out here then,” Ryke says. “I’ll go in. If someone throws me out, then you run down the fucking hallway and disappear in the crowd.”

“Fine.” But I hear Lo mutter, “I’m going to have to bail my brother out of Mexican jail.”

Ryke turns the knob, and he peeks inside a little. His chest rises in a strong inhale, and he motions for us to come inside with him.

We trust Ryke enough to listen, heading through the doorway. And then we stop.

The door clicks shut behind us.

We must be in some sort of break room. Red couches fill the large space, a television and pinball machine on one side. Graffiti—or really nauseating neon-colored artwork—is sprayed on the walls.

The room is empty except for one blonde girl who has her feet on the couch cushions. She bounces a little and slaps the graffiti image of a window on the wall.

I’m just really, really glad no one is in this room. And that all of her clothes are on.

Ryke nears my sister. “Daisy,” he says slowly.

She glances over her shoulder and smiles weakly. “Hi, Ryke.” She points to the painted window. “Did you know this window doesn’t work?” She tries to grab at the picture. “It won’t open.”

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

She plops on the couch and touches her head like she’s spinning. “Well…” She swallows hard. “I learned that the blue stuff was absinthe…so…I think I might be high.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah…” She blinks a couple times, trying to force open her heavy eyes. “And that door…that door was not the exit.” A spike of fear breaches her voice. She knows she’s not completely coherent and she was all alone.

My fearless, daring sister is afraid.

Because this was not her choosing.

I’m about to go to her, but I stop. Ryke has already reached the couch, and when her gaze trains on him fully, her face begins to break in slow, liberating relief.

“Hey,” he says, gauging her state.

“Hey.” Her eyes fill with tears.

“Dais, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He brings her to her feet, and her legs quake.

She nods repeatedly, trying to believe it herself.

Lo lets out a breath. “It’s weird,” he says softly. “I thought Rose was going to be the one like this.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“Terrified,” he clarifies, “of not being in control.”

Daisy is naturally wild, but I don’t think she was expecting to be this drunk. I don’t think she wanted it, and that was a different kind of unknown than jumping off a cliff or house or plane.

Ryke cups her face. “Hey, you’re safe, Dais.”

She nods again, biting her bottom lip to stop it from trembling.

And then Ryke shifts uneasily. “You didn’t run into anyone before you got here, did you?” Oh my God, he doesn’t think…no one touched her, did they? I am going to throw up with worry.

She shakes her head, a couple tears falling. “I don’t know.” She rubs her face before anymore tears slide down.

Ryke is more concerned than I’ve seen him in a while, and that includes when Lo was puking on the side of the road.

Daisy stares at her hand as though it leads to a magical portal. “I think…I think I’m high,” she repeats what has already been said.

“Fuck,” Ryke curses under his breath. He gently leads her to where we stand. She looks up, and her face brightens a little when she sees me. “Lily. Lo.”

I hug her instantly, and she clutches onto me, her hand disappearing in my hair. “Whoa!” She shrieks and jerks backs into Ryke’s chest.

“What?” My eyes widen.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Daisy asks, panicked. “Ryke, something’s wrong with her face.”

“You’re high,” he reminds her.

“Oh…yeah.”

“The sooner we get out of here the better,” Lo says.

Daisy breathes heavily. “I can’t feel my feet.”

“Great,” Lo says, a nervous hand combing through his hair.

“Anything else you can’t feel?” Ryke asks.

She runs her tongue slowly over her upper lip before saying, “My face.”

Ryke rests a hand on Daisy’s spine. “Daisy, look at me.”

She can’t find the source of his voice. “Ryke?” He’s standing right in front of her.

He pinches her chin and turns her face so she meets his eyes. “I’m going to pick you up, okay?”

“Okay.”

He lifts her in his arms—one on her back, the other underneath her knees.

And she clutches his shirt. “Don’t leave me,” she whispers. “I can’t find the exit…”

“I have you,” he assures her.

We navigate our way out of the club, and I constantly glance back at Daisy to make sure she’s okay and not ill. She buries her face in Ryke’s chest, and when we pass the threshold of the club, safe on the sidewalk and out of the hazy atmosphere, we can talk more freely.

“Daisy,” Lo says. We head to the parking deck, and Lo has his arm tight around my shoulders.

Her head rises to look at Lo. Her eyes are bloodshot, and Ryke’s shirt is wet with her tears. She’s upset, and I wonder how much she’s going to remember in the morning.

Probably nothing at all.

Maybe that’s good.

Lo hesitates to ask her something.

“What?” she murmurs.

He gives in. “What did you think you were drinking if you didn’t know it was absinthe?”

“Curaçao.”

Ryke readjusts his hold on her, and she rests her cheek on his arm. “How the hell do you know what that is?” he asks.

“A Brazilian model.” Her eyelids flutter a bit, hopefully just out of sleep.

Ryke lets out a low breath. “He sounds like a winner.”

“She was pretty awesome,” Daisy says sadly. And then more silent tears start streaming, her gaze faraway as though she’s lost in a very bad trip.

Lo’s face twists in guilt and hurt. I squeeze his hand, worried that he’s going to be possessed to drink now. Alcohol is not the answer to fix his pain of not finding Daisy sooner, but I’m sure he’s fighting the temptation.

Ryke looks between his brother and my sister, and then his eyes falls to me, and I think he sees a girl who can possibly help his brother rather than send him down that dark road.

I won’t let Lo drink.

I am here for him, just as he is for me. So I turn to Lo and poke his arm. “Did you see Captain America?” I ask.

And his face lights up. He stares down at me as we walk, and the guilt begins to wash away. “Yeah, who the fuck thinks he can fly?”

I smile. I love him. More than sex.

More than anything.

{ 31 }
LILY CALLOWAY

Seven days of abstinence, being surrounded by drunken college students and booze, and we’ve survived. The private jet flies us back to Philly. My panic and worry has subsided into a puddle. After enduring Spring Break in Cancun, the biggest obstacles seem like little hurdles.

Not everyone had a pleasant experience.

Melissa has officially broken up with Ryke. I secretly think she’ll make a hate-shrine of him once we return home. Partly, I’m sure it’s because he welched on his deal to give her mind-blowing sex. But last night at the club was what really cemented her anti-Ryke status. She gave him the classic ultimatum. Me or her. And he chose to protect my sister.

So she isolates herself to a corner chair, flipping through a magazine and wearing earbuds, tuning out the rest of us. I suspect she’ll call a taxi when we land, putting considerable distance between herself and Ryke.

The source of her agitation sits by the window. Ryke plays poker with Daisy. She woke up this morning remembering nothing from the club, and no one had the heart to tell her what happened—that Ryke had to carry her home, that she was crying. I think the truth would have shattered her spirit more than any of us could bear.

And after last night, Lo and I have no say in separating Ryke and Daisy without turning into hypocritical monsters. All we can do is trust them at this point—the same way they’ve tried to trust us with our addictions.

Rose is passed out on the bed in the back cabin, working off her killer hangover. Connor slips in the room every so often to check on her, but right now, he types away on his laptop on a plush seat and table. He’s working on his thesis to graduate with honors.

His diligence reminds me that I have to start memorizing old exam questions for my next Stats test. A task I have been avoiding. While memorizing isn’t as hard as studying (or writing a thesis), it still takes a great toll on my poor brain. Last exam, I thought it might explode from being gorged with numbers.

I flip aimlessly through the channels on the television, sprawled on the couch with Lo. My head rests on his chest and a slow contentedness washes over me. I never thought I’d be able to feel so…still. He tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear, and I feel his warm breath on my forehead. “We made it,” he murmurs.

I smile as he plants a kiss on my temple. Tonight, we’ll be home. Alone again. Free to have sex.

I don’t want Lo to think I’ve been obsessing over it, so I don’t say a word about sex. Even though the thought has crossed my mind. I fantasized a little in the shower this morning, but I tried really hard to just wash and step out. No self-love. And that accomplishment feels sort of good, but I know sex would have made me feel even better.

“You know what tonight means?”

He’s bringing it up?

“Lil.”

“Huh?” I turn my head, my eyes wide with anticipation. If he instigates this conversation then I’ll gladly take part in it.

“Tonight,” he says again. His eyes stay on mine, never leaving. I don’t break our gaze, filled with seven days of need and want and tension. I refuse to stare at his lips or his abs or any other part of him. I want Loren Hale. The man, the lover, the guy who fills me with happiness and bliss. Not just the body.

His hand reaches out and cups my cheek, his thumb skimming slowly over my lips. I wonder if he’s testing me.

I want to pass.

His thumb pulls gently on my bottom lip, and I let out a short, ragged breath. His hand slides down to the back of my neck before he whispers, “I’m going to fuck you.” Oh. God.

Now? No, that can’t be right.

He must sense my confusion because his lips quirk. “Tonight, love.”

“Right.” I nod, flushing from the foolish presumption. I don’t think it would go over well with everyone if he took me right here on the couch. Even the image—of Lo on top of me, of his hardness pressing so deep inside of me—steals the air right from my lungs.

He holds me tighter in his arms and lowers his head to murmur dirty things in my ear. My arousal grows, and he must believe I have the strength to last the whole plane ride and the drive to the house. So he’s tempting me little by little. My peak tonight will be so freakin’ intense when we finally do have sex—the walls will not be able to silence my screams.

I squirm a little, the tension a good kind of tension, the kind where I know I can wait to release it. Months ago, I don’t think I could have. But I’m learning restraint.

I flip through the channels while Lo holds me on his lap. I try to find a movie that won’t put me to sleep or a television show that won’t draw my attention back to Lo’s cock or my nefarious thoughts.

Lo rubs my shoulder, and his gaze drifts to his half-brother. “Are you losing?” Lo asks, a smile at the idea. I perk up a little with equal amusement.

Ryke stares at his cards with pinched brows. On the table is a pile of hundred dollar bills, what looks like his Rolex and her hemp bracelet.

“No,” he snaps.

Lo laughs under his breath. “Hey, bro, did you fail remedial math? That watch is worth five times more than that bracelet.”

“Can the peanut gallery please shut the fuck up?” Ryke says. “I’m trying to concentrate here.” He accidentally flashes his cards at Daisy.

She covers her eyes quickly. “I didn’t see anything.”

“Fuck,” he curses, shooting us another glare like we made the fumble. He goes back to concentrating really hard. Brain power must hurt Ryke as much as it does me.

Daisy puts her cards to her lips, trying not to smile too hard. She glances at us. “There’s a diamond in my bracelet, by the way.”

“Well then, I take it back,” Lo says. “Ryke is only half the idiot I thought he was.”

Ryke flips him off.

Daisy says, “You should fold.”

He stares at her for a long moment. “You’re bluffing.”

“I’m not. I saw your cards, remember?”

“You said you didn’t see a fucking thing.”

“I lied.” Oh she is good. I can’t tell if she’s bluffing.

“Fuck it.” Ryke slides off a gold ring from his middle finger and throws it in the pile. “That’s worth two grand.”

Daisy pales a little. She has to match that or fold and then he’ll take what’s in the pot.

“Let me see…hold on a sec.” She searches in her nearby bag.

And Ryke looks a little worried. He thought she was going to fold.

But her face falls. “I don’t have anything worth two thousand, but…” She snatches her journal and scribbles something on a piece of paper. She tosses that into the pile.

“Lo,” Connor calls from the back of the plane, still staring at his laptop. “Can you come here?”

“In a second,” Lo says, entertained, like me, on the poker game.

“Now would be best.” Connor’s voice pitches from its usual steady tone.

Lo sighs and slides out beneath me. “Catch me up when I come back?”

I nod, and he kisses me tenderly on the lips. As he retracts, he has that twinkle in his eye like more later.

Yes.

 When he leaves, I prop myself on my knees to try and see the paper in the poker pile. “Read it out loud,” I tell Ryke.

“She’s tossing in her two Ducati Superbikes.” His eyebrow quirks. “I already have a motorcycle, Dais.”

“These are faster than your Honda.” Clearly they have talked “motorcycle” before if she knows what sits outside his apartment.

“Wait,” I interject. Ryke said her two superbikes. That means she already has them. “When did you get a motorcycle? And why would you buy two?”

“A client at a shoot bought them for set decoration, and he gave them to me.”

“He just gave them to you?”

Ryke fingers the piece of paper. “That’s what I said.”

“It was a thank you for doing a good job is all. It doesn’t happen often, but it did then. And now I have two motorcycles begging to be ridden. I’ve only taken the red one out on the road, so I put some miles on it.”

“You don’t have a motorcycle license yet,” he tells her flatly.

“Yeah, I know. But in order to get a license, I have to practice.”

He lets the paper go, and I see a sort of longing for those bikes in his gaze. They must be really nice. “You do realize that these are a lot more than my ring?”

“You don’t have to match me. I’m not trying to up the bid, but it’s really all I have that you could want.”

I glance at the rear of the plane. Lo’s back faces me, but he’s hunched over, his hand to his eyes. Something…something’s really wrong. What happened? Is it his father? I go to stand, but Connor meets my gaze and shakes his head, as though I should sit back down.

I do. He has some sort of power in his assuredness. It’s like Jedi mind control.

But I want to go comfort Lo. My chest hurts just watching the back of him. I bite my nails, catch myself and drop my hand.

“What the hell, let’s do it,” Ryke says.

I turn back to the poker game. Maybe it’ll keep my mind off something horrible. But I’m so antsy that I start scratching my arm. I catch myself doing that too.

“So the motorcycles are fair then?”

“Sure. Just don’t cry when I take them from you.”

She grins. “Okay. Let’s see your hand.”

He turns over two cards and compares them to the ones flipped on the table.

My attention is split between the game and Lo, and I don’t want to focus on him anymore. I’m about to go against Connor’s wishes and dart to the back of the plane. In order to stop myself, I switch the television channels to find a show that can preoccupy my mind.

“So you have two eights,” Daisy says, a smile to the words.

“You beat me, didn’t you?”

“Two jacks,” she says.

“You were dealt two fucking jacks?”

“You shuffled.”

He groans.

“You can have the ring back if you want.”

Boy Meets World? No. Sabrina the Teenage Witch? No. Soccer? Definitely not.

“No, you won it. It’s yours.”

“I’m going to feel weird if it’s a family heirloom or something.” She tries to shove the ring into his hand. He holds them up in the air.

“It’s from a jewelry store, and I was going to retire the thing anyway.”

“Why?”

“It’s ugly.”

“So, you gave me an ugly piece of jewelry.”

“It’s worth two thousand fucking dollars.”

She smiles wryly. “Oh yeah.”

Ryke crumples the paper with the Ducati arrangement on it. He lost those bikes, and there’s a bit of disappointment in his eyes from not being able to snatch one. I wonder if they’re rare.

“How about…” Daisy folds the cash and stuffs it in her wallet. “…I’ll let you keep the black Ducati if you teach me how to ride.”

Law & Order? No. X-Men cartoon? Possibly. I hover on this channel a little, watching Wolverine in his original yellow and blue spandex.

Ryke taps the pen to the table. “I’m not going to teach you how to kill yourself.”

“That’s dramatic.”

He glares. “Knowing you, you’d run the fucking bike off a damn cliff for the hell of it.”

She spreads her arms. “Then teach me how to stay on the road.”

He shakes his head. “No, if I show you how to ride, you’re going to do something stupid on the interstate.”

She touches her chest. “I would never.”

He throws a hundred dollar bill at her face. And it flutters into her lap before hitting her nose, not the effect he was looking for.

X-Men is not helping take my mind off Lo. I glance back at him again. Same hunched position. Same sadness. What is going on? I sigh and switch channels quickly.

“I’m not killing you,” Ryke repeats.

Her smile fades. “Ryke,” she says, “I’m going to figure out how to ride a motorcycle with or without you. I was just giving you the opportunity to have one of the bikes. I know you want it.”

He stares off, deep in thought, and then he shakes his head repeatedly, cringing. “Fuck.”

“What?”

He covers his face with his hand. “I can’t stop picturing you flipping the bike over.”

“I haven’t fallen off yet,” she reminds him.