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I slow down to a walk, and Lo matches my pace beside me. I don’t fucking speak at first. I need to tell him something—I know I can’t keep this in like I used to. Instead of “expressing myself” I just follow my lane around the track.
Lo gives me a weird look, like I’ve grown a fucking antenna in the middle of my forehead.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re breathing like you’ve smoked five packs of Camels.” He touches his chest. “I know I’m in much better shape than you, but we only ran five miles. I’ve seen you run twice that without dry heaving.”
“I’m not dry heaving.”
“Whatever, man. You’re doing this breathing thing.” He mimics me, sounding like a beached whale.
I flip him off.
He mimes catching and pocketing it. “Thanks. I needed a fuck you for later.”
“You’re in a good mood.” I stretch out my arm while we keep walking, my muscles tight from anxiety. I fucking suck at delivering bad news.
Lo nods. “Numbers came in yesterday, and the new baby clothes line for Hale Co. has increased our profit margin. Another upside, I get to watch Rose throw shade at some of the foulest fucking human beings I’ve ever met. Corporate America is dirty.” He cringes at the thought. “Don’t tell Rose that I complimented her.”
I almost laugh. I’m glad their business partnership has worked out without any major fights. I don’t think anyone expected it to go this well, not even Lo.
He scratches the back of his neck, his amber eyes softer but jaw still sharp. “Do you ever think about working there?” He quickly adds, “I don’t want you to think that I need you. Because I don’t. I’m just wondering if you’ll ever come on board.”
Lo is running Hale Co. on his own, and when our dad stepped down, I did have the opportunity to be CEO with him. My brother proved that he could do it alone and that he wanted the job. So I let him have it all.
Do I ever want to run a multi-billion dollar empire that sells baby products? “No,” I tell Lo. “As much as I like the idea of working with you, I think we’d fucking kill each other by the end of it.” I can only see a business relationship harming the trust and respect we’ve spent so fucking long building.
He nods a couple times in agreement. Then he stops completely, resting his arm on the balcony railing that overlooks six basketball courts below. I can hear myself breathing—fucking Christ. He was right.
Lo suddenly says, “I want to split my shares and give you part of the company.”
“No,” I immediately reject this idea.
Lo glares, his eyes drilling holes into me. “You never even told me that he didn’t give you a share of the company.”
People can access that information, just like Lo probably did when he took over Hale Co. “He didn’t want anyone to know that I was his fucking son, Lo. He couldn’t have a random fucking kid named Jonathan Ryke Meadows be a shareholder.”
Lo lets out an agitated breath. “Then why not let me help you now?”
“Because I don’t need fucking help. You’ve told me what’s in your trust fund before—and mine is triple yours. Dad did that to make up for what I lost in shares. We’re even.”
Lo glances at the basketball courts, then back at me. “He has control over your trust, Ryke.”
“Yeah, I know.” Our dad has a huge stipulation attached to my trust that Lo is aware of, but I don’t want him to worry about my finances. I may not be worth billions like him, but I still have millions—way more than enough. “Look, I’ve saved a lot of money from sponsorships—”
“You have to rock climb to make that,” he cuts me off with a short, pained laugh. “Forget it.” He starts walking again in a huff.
I catch up to him quickly, realizing what this is truly about. I make money through commercials and ads when I rock climb, currently the face of Fizzle’s sports drink, Ziff: River Rush. “Hey,” I say, resting a hand on his shoulder until he slows to a stop.
He spins around on me, eyes flashing murderously. “What?”
This is where I tell him everything in my head. Where I fucking let it out. I’m still not great at it, but I’m not about to bury it all like I used to. “I’m going to rock climb whether or not someone pays me for it. You have to fucking accept that.”
He glares past me, having trouble looking me straight on. His eyes begin to redden, unblinking and tense.
“I’ve rock climbed practically my entire fucking life, and I can’t give it up for anything.” It’s a part of who I am, and I don’t know how to live without it. I don’t know if I can.
“You’re allowed to be selfish. I get that,” Lo says. “I mean, I should get that, I’m the most selfish one out of all of us.”
I grimace—feeling the sting from every word. I’m surprised when he doesn’t launch anything about having a kid at me. Maybe he’s holding back from stooping that low, but I’m thinking about it anyway. Having a kid while taking these risks. My life is in flux more now than it’s ever been, and I’m not sure if I can root myself the right way.
“Let’s just forget it,” Lo mutters, cooling down some.
“Wait.” I catch his arm before he leaves. “There’s something I need to tell you.” Willow. Our dad. This is the conversation that’s plagued me, but it has to happen. Out of everyone, Lo deserves answers. I just don’t know how he’ll fucking handle them.
His brows lift in dry surprise. “Oh, you mean your dehydrated hippo routine wasn’t because you’re out of shape and need an oxygen tank on the ride home?”
I roll my eyes and then rest my hands on my head. “Look…”
“I’m looking.” He’s actually glaring—but not as much as before.
I open my mouth, ready to just get it over with.
His phone rings. Fuck.
I run a hand through my hair as he digs into his pocket. “It’s probably just one of my annoyingly overachieving employees that need to be told how amazing they are every minute of the day.” He looks at the screen. “Nope, it’s not Rose.” He presses a button and puts the phone to his ear. “Hey, Lil. Please tell me you recorded the new episode of Teen Wolf, and please tell me you haven’t watched it without me.”
He notices my glower and holds up a finger, his eyes soften in an apology. And then they transform to worry. “Wait, slow down, love. Take some breaths.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask, concerned. My split-second assumption is that she’s craving sex. It takes me a moment to remember she hasn’t called Lo crying about wanting sex or needing it in a long fucking while.
Lily’s voice must escalate because I catch her next words. “He’s got this thing on him. It’s like a red patchy area and he keeps scratching. I’ve never seen it before. Lo, what if it’s really, really bad?”
“I’m on my way home right now,” Lo tells her, already moving towards the exit. I’m close behind him, so I can hear Lily again.
“What if I have some form of silent herpes and I accidentally gave it to him by kissing him on the cheek? What if I did this, Lo?” Her voice cracks into a sob at his name.
Lo’s entire face breaks. “You don’t have herpes,” he whisper-hisses as we walk outside. It’s still too early for people to be out, but there are some wary eyes on the sidewalk. We probably should have brought our bodyguards, but sometimes it’s nice pretending to be fucking normal for a change
. “And secondly,” Lo continues, “you didn’t do anything wrong. For Christ’s sake, it’s probably just a diaper rash.”
“I can drive,” I tell Lo as he starts towards the driver’s side of his black Audi. He shakes his head and gives me a look like not today. I can’t say I fucking blame him. Sometimes I make him more nervous when I’m behind the wheel.
I climb into the passenger seat and when he shuts the door, he puts the phone on speaker. I can hear Lily’s sniffling clearly now.
“It’s not…a…diaper…rash,” she mumbles with her stuffy nose. “I looked…up…pictures.”
“Should I call you Dr. Lily Hale now?” Lo asks, starting up the car.
“Yes.” She blows her nose.
“You alone, Lil?” I question.
“Yeah.”
Lo’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. Moffy starts crying loudly. “It’s okay, baby,” Lily coos. “We’re going to fix it. I promise.” Her focus returns to the phone. “Could you guys keep talking to me until you get here? I just…I don’t want to be by myself right now.”
Lo can barely talk. His jaw sharpened, his teeth grinding, and his eyes carry so much empathy that they almost redden. I don’t hesitate.
“So I know it may come as a shock, but I watched an episode of that Teen Wolf show last week. It wasn’t fucking awful. That uh…one kid was my favorite. The goofy one with dark hair.”
“Stiles,” she answers for me, her voice a little lighter. “Which episode was it?”
I start explaining what I saw. Daisy and I found the show on the DVR, and she was enticed by the word wolf, so she played a random episode. We kept chucking pillows at each other and ended up on the fucking floor somehow. I remember maybe two scenes.
I keep talking and glancing at my brother, making sure he’s alright.
When we arrive at the house, he rushes ahead, practically sprinting. It’s that fucking moment that I realize I’ve completely forgotten to tell him about Willow. But right now, it’s the last thing he needs to hear.
DAISY CALLOWAY
