Hothouse Flower (Calloway Sisters 2)

“Lily, keep Rose here,” he orders.

“Richard—” Rose refutes.

“Let me handle it,” Connor says calmly. Rose backs down, and Lily does as she’s told, grabbing Rose’s hand and keeping her by her side, away from whatever the fuck is about to happen.

“What’s going on?” my brother asks the officer again.

He answers by stopping right in front of me. “Ryke Meadows?”

“Yeah.” I don’t know why he fucking asks whether it’s me. He knows it is.

Then the officer takes out handcuffs, and I hear a car door shut. I look up, and a second police officer is coming as back up.

I immediately shake off Daisy’s hand. “You need to go with Connor,” I tell her. He’s already walking towards Daisy to take her home.

“No.” Daisy shakes her head repeatedly, and I think we both know what this is about and where this is headed.

“Yes,” I growl. “This isn’t up for fucking discussion. You’re going home with them. I’ll see you later.”

“You did nothing wrong,” she tells me, tears welling. Connor puts a hand on her shoulder and starts guiding her backwards towards his limo. “You did nothing wrong!”

Doesn’t fucking matter.

“Ryke Meadows,” the first officer says, ignoring Daisy, “you’re under arrest for statutory rape—”

Daisy bursts into tears. “No!” she cries like someone stabbed her heart. My face contorts in pain as I watch her, knowing she’s blaming herself for putting me here. But it’s not her fucking fault.

“You have the right to remain silent….” I can’t hear anything else. My ears buzz. All the happiness that I saw in Daisy just completely snuffs out in a fucking instant. She tries to rush over to me, but Connor grabs her around the waist, forcing her back. She sobs, and I can’t do a fucking thing. I just have to stand here and watch.

I clench my teeth so hard that my jaw fucking aches. The officer comes behind me and aggressively pulls my arms to my lower back. My strained muscles burn as he cuffs one of my wrists and then the other.

I’m fairly certain I know who called the cops on me. The woman who couldn’t meet my eyes for the last half of the flight. The woman who threatened me with this very fucking thing in Daisy’s bedroom.

“…in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney—”

“He didn’t fucking do anything!”

That’s not Daisy.

That’s my brother. He’s defending me. My stomach twists, filled with too much emotion to speak, to move just yet.

“If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you—”

The officer doesn’t stop, not even for Lo. The second one comes forward to steer me to the police car.

“HEY!” Lo shouts, about to fucking lose it. “Did you not fucking hear me?!” He steps between the second officer, blocking him from the cop car.

“Lo,” I cut in, my heart hammering. I’m more fucking scared for him even though I’m the one cuffed right now. My brother doesn’t need to be thrown in a jail cell with me.

The second officer glares at Lo. “You need to step out of the way or we’re going to have to take you in too.”

“He’s a good person!”

My father is still here. “Loren, don’t be an idiot.” He motions for Lo to join him by the Escalade.

“Off of what evidence are you taking him in?” Lo sneers at the officer.

“You need to step out of the way, sir,” the second officer repeats.

“Lo,” I say, instinctively trying to walk over to him, to reach him, to pull him in the right fucking direction. Which would be very far away from me. I jerk to a stop, being held by the first officer, his hands on the cuffs that detain me.

“I guess you’re just going to have to take me in then,” Lo says, his eyes pulsing with rage. “Because I’m not fucking moving.”

Fucking hell. I rip out of the first officer’s hold. “Lo, fucking stop!” I shout. Our dad reaches him before I do. He takes Lo by the arm and tugs him to the side, out of the way.

And then the first officer forces me to the fucking ground, my face hitting the pavement hard. Pain shoots through my body.

“Resisting arrest,” the first officer says.

“Don’t be so stupid!” our dad yells at my brother.

I grit my teeth, and the police officer puts his knee on my back. He says something to me about settling down, but I’m not even fucking moving anymore. Loose gravel embeds in my cheek, and I look out and see Daisy on her knees, Connor crouched behind her, whispering in her ear.

She’s crying like this is the end of us. Her grief is like a thousand knives inside my stomach. The police officer jerks me to my feet with unkind force, and he pushes me towards the car. I pass my father and my brother.

Lo takes a step forward to intervene again.

I shake my head at him.

“You didn’t do anything,” he says, his eyes reddened, his cheekbones sharpened like fucking ice.

I nod at him, forced to keep walking to the white and blue vehicle. I can’t speak. I can’t say a fucking word.

Not until I climb into the backseat of the car, not until the door slams and the tires roll down the road—do I scream.

All the emotion I restrained for my brother, for Daisy, comes pouring out of me. I could kick the door. I could punch something if I had use of my hands. But instead, I just scream, releasing the anguish that rips apart my insides.

I just completed the Yosemite Triple Crown.

I just accomplished a lifelong dream.

I had Daisy.

I was fucking happy.

And now I’m here.

Cuffed.

Arrested.

Going to jail.

I’m going to jail.

RYKE MEADOWS

They haven’t booked me yet. I sit alone in a holding cell, my nerves jumping every time a cop walks by, expecting them to usher me out for a mug shot and fingerprints.

Statutory rape.

Rape.

It’s something that makes me physically ill. I’d rather be falsely convicted of murder. My throat burns, and I rest the back of my head against the cement wall, silent and trying to be numb. I don’t know what happens from here. I don’t know how much evidence Samantha could try to use against me. What witnesses can she pay to lie for her? I’ll be tried criminally. It’s not like I can settle this fucking case by paying someone off. I’m looking at fucking jail time.

I remember all the cameras flashing as I climbed out of the cop car, all the questions yelled at me.

“Ryke?! Are you innocent?!”

“Ryke?! Are you guilty?!”

“What kind of evidence do they have against you?!”

And then I entered the police station, cuffed. I fucking hate that ‘rape’ is going to be beside my face on headlines of magazines. Nausea barrels through me, but I already puked once. I shut my eyes and take a deep fucking breath.

Everything will be fine, my friend.

Not even Connor’s magic fucking words can unknot the ball of pain inside my chest.