Текст книги "Addicted for Now"

Автор книги: Becca Ritchie

Соавторы: Krista Ritchie
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 31 страниц)

{ 2 }
LOREN HALE

I fist a bottle of cheap vodka by the neck. I can’t think straight. My emotions are black. My heart is about there. My lengthy stride is filled with deplorable hate. I don’t run. I walk quickly up the steep driveway, the alcohol clenched in my hand, a million-dollar home staring right back at me.

The door. All I see is that black door and the bronze knocker.

I slam my fist against it, pounding. No one answers. I don’t even hear footsteps. “Open up!” I yell. I pound again and again. Fuck this.

I take the bottle and swing. The glass smashes. The contents shatter, the liquid dripping down the bronze knocker, trailing the black wood and running beneath my soles.

“Fucking hell,” Ryke curses behind me. “Was that necessary?”

The door blows open.

“Yes.”

I told Ryke to wait in the car and I mentioned how the only way Aaron Wells would creep out of his parents’ home (like the rat that he is) is if I started fucking with his things. Starting with that door. I was prepared to move onto his BMW—a shard of glass to decorate the hood. Now I don’t have to go that far.

But I’m not surprised Ryke parked on the curb and followed me up the hill. He likes to do that—tag along and make sure I’m not about to self-destruct. That’s usually Lily’s job, and I’d choose her over him any day of the week. But not right now.

Not when an old prep school prick stands five feet in front of me.

He has dirty blond hair (practically brown), blue eyes and that smug Dalton Academy smile that I remember so well. He’s the first guy that came to mind when we received the texts. What I did to him back in prep school was fucked up, but our rivalry should have never included Lily. And he shouldn’t be tormenting her now.

Aaron appraises the shattered glass. “I shouldn’t be surprised. The stench smells exactly like you.”

Ryke is about to take a step forward, and I grab his arm to stop him. We’re not punching Wells, as much as I’d like to. This is not that type of fight.

“I’ve met you before,” Aaron says, scanning Ryke from his dark hair to his lean muscles that nearly match mine. “Where was that?” He feigns confusion.

Ryke glares. “I should have smashed your fucking face in.”

When I heard what happened while I was gone, I really wish Ryke had.

Lily’s mother paired her with Aaron at a company party, and he threatened Lily the entire time, basically telling her that he’d screw with her to get to me. (Why? Because he hates me. There’s no other reason for that.) And I just had to hear the news in rehab without doing a goddamn thing. Now that he’s moved to Level 2—somehow learning about her sex addiction and wanting money—I’m here, ready to fuck with him the same way he fucked with her.

“Oh right,” Aaron says without missing a beat, “I was Lily’s date to a Fizzle event, and you showed up like her white knight while this one was in rehab.” He cocks his head at me. And I internally grimace at the reminder that Ryke was there for Lily these past three months. I wasn’t.

But this, right here, is why I know Aaron sent those texts. He’s recently made it clear that he wants to toy with me by going through Lily, stirring up our old rivalry.

Two can play this game.

“Thanks for escorting her,” I tell him. “She said it was painful staring at your ugly face all night, but I think we all know you weren’t there to please her.” My double-edged words even make me cringe. I don’t like to think about any other guy pleasing Lily. Not before we became a real couple. And definitely not after.

My heart beats so fucking fast. I take a step towards him, the glass crunching.

He stiffens, and I wait to see if he has the balls to shove me back.

Nope. I take my chances and squeeze between the door frame and his immobilized body. He stares right at me. Eye for eye. And I invite myself inside.

“Wow, this place hasn’t changed,” I say, walking further in. I stare at the high vaulted ceilings and the marble floors. Ryke follows me, and Aaron closes the door behind us, his lip curled. I point at the cellar door by the kitchen. “Should we crack open a bottle of wine?”

His eyes flash murderously.

“Maybe not then.”

Ryke hangs back, but if Aaron even raises a fist, he’d be right by my side. That kind of support feels good. I’ve never once had that. Growing up, I always took the beating or found an escape. Fights were always me against a million. No one was in my corner. I wouldn’t let Lily be involved, and if she was, it was guys like Aaron that deviously pulled her in, knowing she was my best friend.

They’d fuck with her just to reach me.

And that’s not happening.

Aaron watches me closely.

“Who’s home?” I ask him.

“No one,” he says, his face blank.

I don’t believe him. “Your parents are in Barbados for the weekend.” Thank you Connor Cobalt with your great tech-savvy skills.

Aaron lets out a dry laugh. “Did your father find that out for you?”

Oh yeah, Ryke wasn’t the one to deter Aaron at the Fizzle event. While Lily was trying to dodge Aaron all night, she told me that my father came in and saved her. Leave it to my dad to inject debilitating fear into someone. Lily said Aaron fled the event after that. Never made a peep again. “My father didn’t help me figure out who’s at your house,” I say, “but I should call him up, thank him for molesting you with his words.”

“You’re a sick fucking guy,” Aaron says, “you know that?”

I’m just getting started. “Julie!” I shout. “Julie, come out, come out!”

Ryke wavers behind me. He’s seen me like this. I used to attack him. I still do. Plenty of times. But this is different. I am fueled by hate so deep that I can barely breathe.

Aaron glances hesitantly at the balcony above the double staircase. His house was used for debutant balls just for that entrance.

“JULIE!” I yell.

Aaron steps towards me, his hand leveled out as though he comes in peace. “Hey, I told your father I’d lay off Lily, okay? We made a deal. I stuck to it. I haven’t done shit to her since the event.”

“JULIE!”

The door clatters upstairs.

Aaron talks faster, “I was pissed that night. I applied for a job, and they denied my application. I didn’t even get an interview because of you.”

“You’re going to blame me?” I glare. He should. With my father’s help, I called up his dream college and had the Dean take a second look at Wells. Next thing you know, he’s going to his safety school, not even waitlisted to the place he thought he had in the bag. We rerouted his future.

“I can’t compete with Ivy grads. Now I have to work for my father.”

A pair of feet pads across the second story.

“Don’t do this,” Aaron sneers, but he’s pleading. “I only scared Lily a little. I wasn’t going to force her or anything. I promise you.” He’s never had sex with her, thank God. If I ran into one of her old hookups, I don’t know what my reaction would be.

“That’s what you always do, isn’t it?” I say. “You scare her. Well, grab a membership card Aaron. You’re about to be fucking terrified.”

Right on cue, a girl with the same dirty blonde hair grips the balcony railing, leaning over to stare at me from below. “Loren Hale.”

“Julie, go back to your room,” Aaron tells her, fear spiking his voice.

“What am I, four?” she snaps. She wears dark lipstick and a shit ton of eyeliner. She’s his fraternal twin. And a girl I may have fucked once or twice when I was sixteen, depending on the day. The difference between Lily and me is that I actually dated Julie (for two whole weeks) at a time when I wasn’t in a fake relationship with my best friend.

Lily, however, fucks once and then moves on.

And after a long, long struggle, I have finally become her only exception.

“Hi Julie,” I say. “Can you come here for a second?”

“What’s this about?” She looks between Aaron and me, taking in Aaron’s stiff posture. “Aaron, it’s been years since I was with Lo. Seriously, get over it.” But she’s wrong. Our fight didn’t start because I dated her. She was just a bullet in my gun. One of the things I used to hurt him. Fucking his sister—that’s the easiest trick in the book. Something my father would have done. Something that I hate I did. I can barely even stomach the memory.

I just thank God that Julie is as deplorable as her brother and me. She used me just as much as I used her—wanting to get back at her ex-boyfriend. He didn’t care as much as she wished he did.

“Julie,” I snap. “Come here. Now.” I’m not fucking around. Well, I kind of am. But you should see Aaron’s face. He’s about to shit his pants. He has no idea what I’m going to do. Hell, I have no idea what I plan to do either. I just know that his family is his weak spot the same way Lily is mine.

She descends the stairs, barefoot. Her curious gaze lingers on Ryke. “You’re hot.”

“Julie,” Aaron cringes.

“Can I see your phone?” I ask Aaron. Now that Julie is here, he’ll be more willing to hand it over. She’s a distraction and a warning.

His brows furrow. “What for?”

“Just give it to me.”

Julie sighs heavily like this is boring her. “Just give him the phone, Aaron.”

Aaron slips his phone out of his pocket and hands it to me. I scroll through his previous texts, trying to find my number stored somewhere. But the entire thing is blank.

“Why’d you delete all of your texts?”

“I always do,” Aaron says. “My mother likes to check my phone.”

“You’re twenty-two.” He’s not a teenager needing approval to sleep over a friend’s house. He’s an adult.

“Yeah? That hasn’t changed her from being nosy.”

I still don’t believe him. I can’t.

“What’s your name?” Julie asks Ryke, biting her lip as though that’ll drop him to his knees.

“Ryke,” he says.

“Ryke, how do you know Loren?”

“He’s my brother.”

Her brows shoot up. “Wow, I didn’t know he had a brother.”

“Neither did I,” I say, shoving the phone back in Aaron’s palm. “Did you use a fake phone? A disposable?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Aaron says, his eyes wide. “I didn’t do shit to you or Lily. I told you, your father—”

“I don’t believe you,” I say, not really sure what I believe. He could be lying. Out of everyone I know, he’s the most likely to threaten Lily. If I can end it all right here, right now, that’s what I’ll do.

“You’re out of your fucking mind!” Aaron screams.

Ryke steps forward to my defense. “Says the guy who spent two hours chasing a girl around a ballroom, terrifying her beyond fucking words.”

“Wow,” Julie says, “you’re sexy when you’re mad.”

“Julie!” Aaron shouts. “Leave, now. Get the fuck out of here.”

Julie rolls her eyes and drops off the tips of her feet like Aaron popped her entertainment. She nods to me. “It’s nice to see you again, Loren. I’m sorry my brother can’t get over our relationship.”

“Yeah, he has trouble letting things go.” If I was him, I would still be full of resentment. I don’t blame him at all. I just hate that I drove him to this place—to a point where he could attack Lily while I was at rehab. I was such a stupid fucking kid. I still am sometimes.

I could be going about this the wrong way right now. But it’s the only thing I know how to do. And it works. I use my words. Threaten the guy who’s threatening me.

Julie walks off to the kitchen, in plain view. Mostly so Ryke can see her bend low as she grabs a pan from the cupboard. She looks back to make sure he caught sight of her ass. He didn’t. His eyes haven’t left Aaron. But as I watch her, Aaron is seconds from imploding, dropping on his knees, and giving me what I want. I can’t take credit for that. I think, partly, my father’s previous threats have already sunk in.

“Where’s your disposable phone?” I ask again.

Ryke puts his hand on my arm, and he whispers, “I don’t think he did it.”

I don’t want to believe that. Because then I’ll be clueless.

I’ll have no idea who else it could be.

Aaron holds up his hands in defense. “I don’t know what happened, but I’m not the only guy who hates you, Loren. So whatever is going on, maybe you should think about who else you pissed off all these years. I can’t imagine college was that pleasant for you.”

Yeah…I may be fucked.

I nod to myself. But if he is the guy who sent me those texts, I’m not just going to leave here without insurance that he won’t do something again. I have to have the last word. So I lean in and I say, “If you scare my girlfriend again, you’ll wish all you had to worry about was working for your fucking daddy.” My eyes flicker to Julie once. “And you should start eating your sister’s makeup. Your insides are fucking ugly.”

He could easily say as are yours. But nothing comes from his mouth. He’s solidified in a mixture of hate and fear—emotions that are floating all around his house right now.

I don’t wait for him to reanimate.

I leave.

And on the way to the car, Ryke says, “You didn’t tell me you’d be fucking with his sister.”

“Does it matter?”

He stares straight ahead, his eyes dark.

“She was objectifying you, Ryke,” I tell him. “She was two seconds from pulling down your pants and climbing on your dick.”

“Like Lily?” he snaps back.

“Fuck. You.” I swing open the car door. It’s not the same thing. Lily—she’s my best friend. I’m not a conquest of hers. If that were true, she wouldn’t still be with me. I wouldn’t be able to satisfy her for so long.

“Sorry,” Ryke barely apologizes, his harsh tone never softening. “I just don’t want to see another girl get caught in the fucking crossfires of your feuds.”

“I’m not going to hurt her. He just has to think I am.”

Ryke stares at me for a long moment. “Did our father teach you that?”

“Yeah,” I say. “He also taught me how to get in a car and drive the fuck away.”

Ryke nods. “Glad to know you’re still an asshole, even without the booze.”

“Must be genetic.”

Ryke smiles at this, and we both climb into his Infinity. I don’t feel better after this. Because I don’t even remember some of the people I pissed off.

I drowned most of them in a haze of whiskey and bourbon.

They’re gone from my mind for good.

{ 3 }
LILY CALLOWAY

“Is this an interrogation or a meeting?” Ryke asks roughly. He slouches on our navy Queen Anne chair with a deep scowl, sweat stains seeping through a Penn track shirt.

There are only three people who could have possibly spilled my secret. And the guy at the top of my suspect list has yet to crumble. Although, very little ruffles Ryke Meadows.

And here he sits—edged, all hard-lines, his eyes perpetually narrowed and his demeanor cocky and self-assured. He managed to become a part of Lo’s life. He infiltrated our group, and he has never made a move to leave. He either cares about his brother so much that he’s willing to endure almost anything or he’s scheming for something greater—something that could overturn my whole world.

 So it’s true that I’ve been hammering Ryke with questions, and I’m about one step away from shining a blinding light in his face to get real serious. But I have a right to freak out. My life is seconds from crumbling.

Lo passes Ryke a bottle of water.

I shoot Lo a wide-eyed look. He shouldn’t be giving him sustenance until we have answers. That could have been our only bargaining chip. “Who says he gets water?” I blurt out.

Their brows crinkle as though I’ve lost some brain cells. Okay, so I’m being irrational. What else is new?

Ryke raises a hand. “I’m sorry, but is anyone else concerned for my safety here?”

Lo ignores his brother and clasps my hand, pulling me to the sofa. My leg touches his, but the closeness doesn’t calm me. Since I read the text, panic has overpowered my chance at being composed and sane.

I don’t want to act like this, but my only other way of coping with high-stress situations involves grinding and climaxing and everything I’m not allowed to do.

Rose’s heels clap down the hallway. “Connor should be here any minute now.” She sits on the pale yellow loveseat adjacent to the couch, crossing her ankles. In a black pleated skirt and a high-collared silk blouse, she looks far classier than anyone else in the room.

“Great, so you can direct this interrogation on someone else,” Ryke says, eyeing me with a tad bit of scorn. But in Ryke Meadows’ case, there’s probably a little pinch of love in there. At least I hope we made some progress while Lo was in rehab. Sure, we had a rocky three months, but Lo was always our common ground.

But if he’s behind some larger plot to ruin Lo’s life—and consequently mine—I’ll never forgive him.

Lo runs a hand on my bouncing leg, trying to settle my nerves. “I’m going to take care of it, Lil,” he says softly.

And my interrogation aside, Ryke gives him a dark, furtive look. I’ve seen it before. It’s the kind you share with someone when you have a secret.

I gasp. “Have you done something without me?”

Lo shakes his head. “No.” He won’t meet my eyes.

I smack his chest. “You’re a lying liar, and we’re supposed to be truthful.”

“Well,” he draws out the word, “if the guy keeps texting us, we may or may not be able to cross Aaron Wells off our suspect list.”

“May or may not?” Rose says. “That sounds like no progress.”

“I did what I did. I’m not going to take it back.” His voice is sharp.

All I hear is Aaron Wells, and I go cold. “What did you do?” Aaron is not someone I ever want to see again.

Rose mutters something under her breath that sounds like vandalize.

“I just talked to him,” Lo says.

I look to Ryke for verification. Clearly he was a part of this plot, which only makes me more nervous.

“Yeah, we just talked,” Ryke says. “All of Aaron’s texts were deleted, which was suspect.”

Lo nods in agreement, and then he leans closer and kisses my cheek. “Okay?” he whispers to me.

I don’t think that’s the right word. I stare at the rug with a faraway gaze.

“What about Ryke?” Rose asks. She holds a small teacup between her tight fingers. She offered me a glass earlier, but I declined. I’m not sure my body can handle ingesting anything else today. I’m already bloated with fear.

“Not this again.”

“You know about Lily’s sex addiction. You could have told someone.”

Ryke glares. “So do you.”

“Be real. She’s my sister. I’m not going to backstab her.”

“And she’s my brother’s girlfriend,” he snaps back. “Why don’t you focus your attention on the guy who could easily spill this information for a fucking price?”

“Don’t you dare.” Rose points a warning finger at him.

“Why? Connor came into the picture around the same time I did. He learned about her sex addiction at the same exact time as us, and he has more to gain than we do. And he has less to lose.”

“He would lose me,” Rose retorts.

I never wanted to believe that Connor could turn on me like that. I still won’t entertain the thought for longer than a second. He’s too nice (in his own way). But Ryke…

Lo scrutinizes his brother for a long moment. “Maybe Rose has a point.”

“What?” Ryke leans forward. “You can’t be serious.”

“You may be my half-brother, but you’re also a liar. I think we established that the moment we met.”

“Oh come on.”

“Let’s go back a few months. You came into my life, told me you’re some student wanting to do a fake project on heirs to billion-dollar companies—”

“Lily made that lie up,” Ryke interjects.

I gape. Way to throw me under! But I already came clean to Lo about that, so there is only a morsel of shame.

Lo rolls his eyes. “Whatever, you knew the whole time that I was your brother, and yet, you never said a word to any of us.”

“You have to be shitting me,” Ryke says. They must have had this argument multiple times while Lo was in rehab. I wasn’t allowed to visit him, but under some strange guidelines, Ryke was. I’m a little confused how their relationship has developed since I’ve been away from Lo—but clearly bitterness has festered.

Lo lets out an unhinged laugh. “I’m the bastard. I tore apart your parent’s marriage when I was born. You should hate me. I would hate me.” He takes a small breath. “And then I would build an elaborate scheme to tear me down. Piece by piece. Starting with Lily. So forgive me if I’m having a hard time trusting you one-hundred-and-ten percent.”

I can’t tell if Ryke is angry or upset by Lo’s declaration, but I know this goes beyond my silly accusation. Deep hurt fills Lo’s words.

“Really? Even after everything I’ve done while you’ve been in rehab?” Ryke asks.

“You mean keeping your cock away from my girlfriend. Yeah, thanks.”

My eyes bug. I would jerk away from Lo if his hand wasn’t pressed so tightly to my hip. Something’s wrong. I can sense it. We handle stress differently. I fuck and he drinks. Now that we can’t do either, we’re both trying to learn how to deal with it in a healthy manner. Trying is the key word here.

“You know that’s not it,” Ryke refutes.

“Sure.”

This one word makes Ryke look more livid than the past twenty, and I think this is it. Ryke is about to throw up his hands and leave. Lo tenses beside me, probably expecting the same thing. We alienate people. It’s what we’re good at.

“If I wanted to hurt you by creating some elaborate plot, I would have already screwed Lily. And I sure as hell wouldn’t bother spending time with you.”

I want to trust Ryke, mainly because he’s the only family Lo has for support, but he’s a good liar like Lo said. He even fooled me.

Lo flashes his usual bitter smile, normally accompanied with the raise of his bourbon. I can’t make sense of where his thoughts lie.

Before I can whisper in his ear to ask, the front door opens, and the silence settles like a weight. Connor’s loafers hit the hardwood, the noise heightening the tension.

He appears from the foyer, his thick wavy brown hair styled perfectly, as though he’s ready for a congressional speech at any moment. He slips his cellphone in his black slacks, his white button-down tucked in the waistband. From afar, he inspects Ryke’s stiff posture on the Queen Anne chair and Lo’s death clutch on the couch’s armrest.

“I missed something,” Connor states. “Was it good?” He looks to Rose.

“Only if you enjoy the intelligible mumblings of Neanderthals.” Her tone is pure ice.

“Good one, Rose,” Lo says flatly.

But Connor rubs his lips to keep from smiling further. And when Connor smiles at my sister, I instantly straighten up and lean forward like two orbiting stars are about to touch and kiss. I want to be present when they do.

Lo pinches my hip as Connor takes a seat next to Rose, sliding his arm along the back of the cushion behind her.

“You’re my girlfriend,” Lo whispers huskily in my ear, teasing me to take his side of things. But in a game of wits, I should choose the smart option and go with my sister. Or Connor. Lo is a losing battle.

“You’re my boyfriend,” I say the obvious. He edges closer, and my heart pounds, his lips right there. Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.

He eases back.

Damn. I wish I had Professor Xavier’s power, but then again, I wouldn’t want to force Lo to kiss me. I’d want him to want it as much as I do.

Connor gestures a hand between Ryke and Lo. “I’m sensing tension here.”

“Lo was just thanking me for not fucking Lily,” Ryke says.

“Exactly,” Lo replies, his voice equally as dry.

Connor doesn’t even blink. “Must be a brother thing.” He casually turns to Rose, whispers something in her ear and presses a light kiss on her cheek. I cannot believe I’m envious of a kiss right now. But I really am. I want that kiss. Not from Connor! Just to be clear. From Lo. I want the kiss from Lo. My cheeks redden just accidentally thinking the wrong thing. Jeez.

“You okay?” Lo whispers.

I nod, squirm a little, and rest my cheek on the crook of his arm, safe in his embrace. His muscular body dwarfs my overly skinny frame. I’m working on being healthier too. All skin and bones is not a good look.

Rose puts her hands up to Connor’s chest, blocking him from scooting closer. “A brother thing? What’s going on here is not normal between brothers. You don’t see Greg Brady thanking Peter for not having sex with Marsha.”

“No because that would be incest,” Connor says.

She shoots him a look. “It’s not incestuous because Marsha is only the stepsister.”

“True.” His eyes flit to her lips and back to her sharp gaze. “And I’m surprised you used the word ‘normal.’ I thought we agreed last week that it’s arbitrary and too subjective to have any real merit.”

She gives me a look like why am I with him again?

I smile and really want to say: Because you’re two nerd stars, orbiting and meant to kiss. But that won’t make sense to anyone but me.

Rose and Connor have had an odd three months together, constantly breaking up over intellectual disputes like this and reuniting only a week later. Their relationship is something I can’t quantify or really understand. I think maybe you have to have a higher IQ or something. But I love watching them like Lo and I do Japanese cartoons. We can’t comprehend what they’re saying, but it’s still fun to tune in every week.

Rose points a manicured finger at his chest. “You can’t discount an entire word just because you don’t think it has merit, Richard.” Ooh, she used his real first name. “You’re basically saying Foucault’s entire sociological studies were worthless.”

My head hurts trying to listen to them, but I’m strangely enthralled.

“Hey,” Lo cuts in, clapping his hands. They both look at us like we’ve just appeared in the room. “You two can discuss normal people and Faulkner later.”

“Foucault,” Rose corrects him.

“What?”

“It’s Foucault. Not Faulkner.”

“Whatever, they both start with an F,” Lo snaps. “You know what else starts with an F?”

“Fuck you,” Connor beats him to it. He also says it so casually—like he’s trying to answer an Academic Bowl question. I can’t help but break out into a grin.

Lo catches me smiling and gives me a look. I press my lips together to try to contain it, but it’s too hard and I probably seem goofy instead. The corner of his mouth quirks. My heart flutters because for the first time in three months, I can see these reactions.

He draws forward and places a light kiss on my nose. I didn’t even have to chant kiss me for him to do it. I bite my bottom lip, giddiness replaced by dangerous thoughts. Of yanking Lo into the bedroom, easing him onto the mattress, straddling his waist and skimming my fingers over each ridge in his abs. And then his half-smile will extend to his whole face, the grin enough to light up my body.

I could mumble some lame excuse to leave the meeting, but my throat tightens and guilt festers, even though I haven’t taken a step towards my bedroom yet. Planning out the events makes me feel like a failure. Why is that?

“You look good by the way,” Connor tells Lo.

“Thanks.”

I forgot they haven’t seen each other since Lo’s stint in rehab. I squint at Connor and put him on my pedestal of suspects. Maybe Ryke is right. In return for the info about my sex addiction, Connor could bribe his way into Wharton—the prestigious graduate school at Penn where he plans to go for an MBA.

Connor meets my gaze, and his brow arches like he knows I’m unlawfully incriminating him.

He can see straight through me.

My cheeks redden, and I immediately overturn my hasty judgments. There’s no way Connor would sell me out. He finds cheating too easy, and he’s more moral than 99% of our family’s social circle. So that leaves Ryke. And Rose. But Rose would be more likely to burn her entire fashion line—Calloway Couture—than throw me to the cannibalistic media. And she loves her collection like a mother does a baby.

Lo isn’t so quick to let Connor go free. “Did you tell anyone?” he asks.

“No one,” he says calmly.

Lo scratches the back of his neck. “We spent years without anyone knowing Lily’s secret. Then she tells you guys, and a few months later, she’s being threatened about it. I may have dropped out of college, but I can fucking add those pieces together.”

Connor looks him over once. “You were expelled from college, but it’s nice to hear that you’re taking accountability.”

Somehow that insult didn’t seem so bad. It’s all true.

Penn kicked Lo out after he stopped showing up to class, and he could have attended another college, but he decided to go to rehab and work on getting sober instead.

Lo sighs heavily, frustrated. He just wants answers. I think we all do.

“You’re missing a piece,” Connor tells him.

Lo tenses, and a little bit of hope surges through me. If anyone can uncover this mystery, it’ll be Connor Cobalt. And most likely Rose too.

“Lily just started seeing a sex therapist that specializes in addiction.”

“You think someone saw her go into the office?” Lo asks.

“It’s probable. Why don’t you try tracing the number?”

“It’s unknown.”

“So?”

“I’m sorry. Hacking into phone numbers just isn’t in my repertoire. Lily, you?” He looks to me, and I shake my head. “Didn’t think so.”

“Oh, no,” Connor says quickly, “I know you can’t do something that difficult. I just thought maybe you knew someone who could.”

Ryke cuts in, “You’re actually admitting you can’t do something, Cobalt?” He looks about ready to jump off the Queen Anne and call the press. Oh wait, he is the press. Maybe he’ll write an article about it tomorrow in The Philadelphia Chronicle and title it: “Connor Cobalt Doesn’t Know Everything!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Connor says, poker-faced. “I know how to do it. But I won’t. It’s illegal.”

Ryke rolls his eyes and grips his water bottle tighter. I guess that article won’t be happening.

Rose takes a dainty sip from her tea and says, “It’s still illegal if you pay someone to do it for you.”

“And if you’re smart about it, you won’t be caught.”

That thing I said about Connor being moral? Scratch that. He masks his emotions so much that I didn’t see his cunning ways. Still, I don’t think he would risk losing Rose for a seat at Wharton. At least, I hope not.

“Lo and I already discussed tracing the number,” I speak up. “All my contacts know my family. My parents would start asking questions if I hired a private investigator.” And the whole goal is to keep them in the dark as long as possible. I’m thinking forever is a good amount of time.

Lo nods. “We also don’t want to involve any unreliable third parties. I don’t want to be screwed over by them.”

I perk up as I think of an example. “Like a hacker that lives in his parent’s basement.”

“Yeah,” Lo says. “I don’t see that going very well.”

“I have a trustworthy PI that I can hire,” Connor says. “That’s not a problem.”