Long Way Down (Calloway Sisters 4)

With a dissatisfied once-over, Connor gestures to my clothes: jeans, a plain gray tee, and a waterproof watch. “Your attire needs work.”

“I’m not going on a date with you, Cobalt.”

“Of course you’re not. I have high standards. Ones that you can’t meet.”

I shake my head at him a couple times and then I jump a little on my feet, shake out my hands, and crack my knuckles. I just struggle with letting things out, verbally, and if I ever need to do it right, I’d want to do it today.

“You need a drink?” Lo sinks down onto a patio chair, his forearms resting on his kneecaps. “It’d help those nerves.”

I meet his amber eyes, and he gives me another half-smile to show that he’s kidding. I never find the humor in these jokes, and maybe that’s why he keeps it up. Anyway, I’ve grown used to this fucking nonchalant offer of alcohol, and I’ve never seen him as healthy as he’s been in the past year.

If we flashed back to Paris at that bar, I think the Loren Hale today would shake himself for taking a drink and giving me one. In fact, I know he would.

If that’s not strength, then I don’t fucking know what is.

“Is that a yes?” Lo banters.

“Fuck off.”

Connor chimes in, “Fifty-two fucks in twenty minutes. Just so you know how redundant your vocabulary is.”

My phone vibrates, saving me from talking to Connor. I slide my cell out of my pocket and check the text.

Lunch tomorrow? – Dad

My stomach overturns, and I quickly text back: no.

I let out a tense breath. “This is a fucking sign.” I hold up the phone to show Connor and Lo the message. “He texts right now? It’s not a good time—”

“Since when do you buy into superstition?” Connor asks me in one of his annoyingly calm voices.

“Yeah, you sound like Rose.” Lo doesn’t even focus on the text. His eyes are right on me, and I see more sincerity in them. Something that says, don’t be afraid.

I’m afraid of watching the people I love get hurt. I’m afraid of hurting the people I love. Sometimes I feel like no matter what I do, I’m going to fall into one of the two.

I end up shrugging and then pointing at both of them. “You know what? I’m going inside. You two can fucking stay out here.”

I step over Moffy’s plastic Batman car, a toy that Lo complained about for a good week before conceding. Lo’s love for Marvel was finally trumped by his son’s love for a DC toy.

I hear Lo speaking loudly as I slide open the door. “You think we hurt his feelings?” Asshole. Even as I think it, I nearly smile. I love my little brother. Truth is, I thought we’d kill each other by living together, but it’s brought us even closer in the past year and a half. He’s also a lot less aggravating to live with than Connor Cobalt.

I wasn’t that upset to see Connor move down the street. It mostly sucks in early mornings when I’m in the gym. Connor used to spot me since Lo doesn’t wake up that early.

Do I miss him nagging me for information about Daisy’s therapy sessions? No. Do I miss him quizzing me about literature and languages? No. Do I miss his constant need to make everything a fucking cock show? Absolutely-fucking-not.

But yeah…sometimes I miss that motherfucker.

Not today though.

I shut the sliding door. The sun has already disappeared outside.

DAISY CALLOWAY

I pack double fudge ice cream onto a sugar cone. Three scoops. It melts a little and drips down my knuckles onto the hardwood. While I suck it off my hand, my white Siberian husky perks up from her curled position, nestled beside the cupboards.

Uh-oh.

She excitedly nears the droplets of chocolate and tries to lap them up with her tongue.

“Coconut, no.” I squat down and push her back a little. “I know it’s a horrible fact—gruesome really—but chocolate is toxic for dogs.” She stares at me with a blank look. “I can tell you’re taking this hard.” I insensitively lick my ice cream cone, but it’s melting fast. “I bet in dog heaven you can have all the chocolate you want.” I add, “But don’t think about leaving me that quickly, okay?” I scratch behind her ears with my clean hand.

She sits down in obedience and delight, nudging her head closer to my palm to keep going. I love her a lot, maybe because her temperament is a mixture of sweet, nurturing, and fearless. I wish I could be all of those one day, without compromise or hesitation.

I go still and listen to the growing sound of footsteps, but I don’t jump or panic at the noise. Partly because of Coconut’s presence—but mostly because I believe in this moment that no one can hurt me.

I just rise to my feet, and Ryke Meadows emerges into the kitchen. I haven’t seen him all day, which isn’t unusual. Some weeks we’re together twenty-four-seven and others we’re doing our own thing, staying in communication by text and phone calls.

Earlier I went shopping and out to dinner with Lily, Willow, and Rose, and they’re all back at Rose’s house down the street. It’s hard for me to be around my sisters’ babies so much lately, and since both Jane and Moffy are there, I just left.

I think they knew I would anyway.

Ryke passes the bar counter and nears me.

Six-foot-three with a darkened gaze, scruffy jaw, and brooding brows—he’s utterly handsome. The kind of handsome that screams danger, yet I know his heart is soft and warm and a place I always want to be.

We don’t speak.

We just look at each other, the silence spinning tension in my core. I smile as I lick the ice cream, and I watch him watch me, his gaze descending to my long bare legs, to my banana-print bikini bottoms, to my navy tee that says Adios Pantalones, and up to his blue baseball cap, turned backwards on my head. My tangled, naturally brown hair is let loose, stopping in layers at my chest.

When his eyes finally lock on mine, I pretend to appear perplexed. “I don’t think we’ve met before.”

He almost smiles, which makes mine grow wider before I take another taste of ice cream.

“Are you fucking sure?” He steps closer, only a few feet apart. “Because I have a girlfriend who looks a hell of a lot like you.”

I tilt my head, feigning confusion. I sweep his body with one long glance. “You know, it’s not clicking for me.” I playfully lift up the corner of his gray T-shirt and inspect his abs, a six-pack that’s basically an eight-pack if I’m being technical. His hard gaze bores into me, as though fastened on any inner-beauty I possess.

An electric current zips up my arms to my neck, the tiny hairs rising.

“What about now?” he asks huskily. His deep, gruff voice nearly melts me. I drop the corner of his shirt.

“My boyfriend has a ten-pack,” I reply, trying to hold my seductive composure but I’m close to laughing.

His brows rise. “Oh really?”

“Yep,” I tease.

“That sounds fucking impossible.”

I mock gasp. “Are you making fun of my boyfriend?”

He swiftly pushes my hand at my face, and the cold ice cream smashes against my lips and nose.

I immediately laugh, my smile widening. “You must be him,” I determine. “Ryke Meadows would totally do that.” I try to lick my nose, but my tongue won’t reach.

He nears me even more, his feet right beside mine, his chest pressed against me. My breath shallows. And he says, “Would he do this?” He kisses my nose, licking the chocolate, and then he sucks my bottom lip, the force winding an ache inside of me.

I kiss back just as strongly, and we collide into each other like we haven’t made out in ages. His hand rises up the small of my back;

my free one clutches his thick, disheveled hair. God, I love his hair. I keep the ice cream extended so it doesn’t smash between our bodies.

My pelvis eagerly curves towards him, and his hand falls down to my ass, my thigh, hoisting my leg around his waist. Our lips never part, and we hungrily attack with an animalistic, carnal desire that seeps into my veins. I explore him with my hand, running my palm across his unshaven jaw, his shoulders—down his biceps.

He lifts my other leg and then pins me against the counter. A high-pitched noise breaches my throat in one breath, and his chest rises and falls heavily. My head rocks back for air, and I take a moment to catch my breath while his eyes flit across my features. Mine dance along his.

“Hi,” I murmur.

“Hi,” he says and then effortlessly lifts me higher, securing me against him, my body bouncing with the abrupt movement. Then he carries me out of the kitchen. I wrap my legs tightly around his waist and beam in curiosity. The thrill of the unknown place and destination excites me, but not nearly as much as being this close to the man I love.

I peek over my shoulder. We’re headed towards the backyard. When I turn to Ryke, I catch sight of a smile that lifts the corners of his lips. It’s a beautiful sight, even if it’s momentary.

I bring my ice cream cone to my mouth and lick the side. Then I hold it closer to him. With his hands beneath my ass, he takes a bite of the cone and chocolate.

He raises his brows at me and then he swallows. “That’s too fucking sweet.”

“That’s why it’s the best tasting thing in the entire world.”

He takes one hand off me and opens the door, the outside already dark. “I know someone who tastes better.”

I grin wide, a pulse thrumming inside of me. I want to tease him, but he sets me on my feet.

He leans his head down and takes another bite of my overly sweet ice cream and crunchy cone. I finish it off and then wipe the sticky residue with the bottom of my shirt while he guides me around the pool, his hand on my head. The water looks black without any backyard lamps on. Stars blanket the sky, but the house windows behind us are the best source of light.