“Kinney.” I’d never seen her that afraid, but as soon as she said boogey, it was hard to be concerned. It sounds like booger.
“The monster is fictional,” Connor explains, “from the imagination of Eliot Alice Cobalt.”
My face scrunches at this truth, processing this, processing—and by the time I come to a conclusion, Ryke swigs his water and nods to us as he backs away. Leaving.
I whisper to Connor, “We need to have words, love.”
His lips rise. “What kind of words, darling?”
“The kind that says your son scared my daughter.” I lean against the counter, toying with the coffee pot with no intention to fix it.
“My son also scared my daughter—so your argument falls short.”
I let out a laugh. “I’m used to that.” Falling short.
Connor leans against the cabinets next to me. I stare at my hand that grips a water bottle. I’m not shaking. I’m not sliding down to the floorboards.
I’m upright. I’m standing.
I’m alive.
He tells me, “Very few people don’t fall short of me. It’s just a fact.”
“Fact,” I say with the cock of my head. “You’re a conceited prick.”
“Fact.” He grins. “You’re a good looking asshole.”
I almost smile. “I keep waiting for you to replace asshole with bastard, and still, after all this time…you never do.” I touch my chest. “I’m wounded.”
“You’re both,” Connor says quietly, “but I prefer to call you whatever you identify with more.”
I’m mostly a bastard in the literal definition. I’m an asshole any way you flip it. I take a large swig of water while Connor reaches over and tries to fix the coffee pot again. Still holding Audrey.
He has seven children. Seven goddamn children. A billion-dollar company and more reasons to have headaches than all of us combined—and still, he has none. In this world there might be another me, another angst-ridden guy who just needs someone to care.
I know in this world there will never be another Connor Cobalt.
I want to say that he keeps me smart, but he’s done so much more than that. He loved me at my lowest—when I thought no one else but Lily could love someone spiteful like me. He always saw beyond my addiction, beyond the angst and the hate—I never had to explain. He just knew me.
I needed that kind of friendship, and I think he knew that too.
Connor resigns from the coffee pot.
I quip, “Just drink me, love. I’m bitter. I’ll wake you up.”
“Ugh,” Rose gags at me on her way into the kitchen, knotting the strands to her silk black robe.
I give her an ugly dry smile. “Choke a little harder, maybe your missing soul will come out.”
She snorts into a short laugh. “One day I have a soul. The next day I don’t. Make up your mind, Loren.”
You have a soul. I think it instantly. Without question. Without doubt. Rose has possibly one of the best hearts in this house. In her lifetime, she’s done incredible things for people. Not just for her sisters, but people. Hale Co. has more female executives than it ever did, and she did that.
She grimaces at me. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
I layer on my usual glare, and her shoulders loosen. She’s glad that I act like I hate her just as much as she acts like hates me. In reality, I love her as much as Lily loves Rose—it’s just the way it turned out to be.
Rose whips her hair at me and glides towards her husband.
“You’re fraternizing with the enemy,” Rose whispers, her eyes softening on their daughter.
Connor says smoothly, “Your enemy is my best friend.”
I smile smugly at Rose and finish off my water.
She rolls her eyes at both of us, but Connor draws closer and murmurs something against her neck. I let them flirt-fight in private. Though it’s hard to miss the one consistency, the one unbroken exchange—you know it’ll always be there. Reliable. Unfaltering.
“Richard.” She glares.
“Rose.” He grins.
I almost smile again. I open a cupboard, trashcan beneath, and I toss my water bottle in the bin. The darkened sky slowly begins to lighten. I shut the cupboard the same time Lily pads into the kitchen, Kinney dead asleep in her arms.
There’s nowhere I’d rather be.
I’m beside my wife in an instant. By the fridge. My fingers on her waist. Lily blows out a strand of hair stuck to her lips.
Beautiful.
She whispers, “Luna told Kinney to listen to a ghost story from Eliot. That’s how all this happened, Lo.”
I love how Lily’s nose crinkles and how she uses every last ounce of strength to hold up our three-year-old.
“Lo?” She frowns. “Did you hear what I said?”
I gather what words I remember while pulling Lily into my chest. “Ghost stories, girls.” I put my lips to her ear. “Boo.” Then I stick my tongue in.
“Lo!” she whisper-hisses and slugs my arm.
I feign a wince. “Lil.” I pout, and her green eyes flit to my lips.
My humor fades, and I float through decades. As kids, as teenagers, as adults. Staying up late reading comics, sneaking to parties—all the plans we never made in college. All the lies we told. I touch these memories. I can go as far back as I want, to the gravest depths.
The past can’t drag me under.
I relive the better parts that are intertwined with bad. Because I look back and think, Christ, we were so goddamn fragile.
Look how far we’ve come.
Look at us now.
Lily’s eyes flood, sharing my emotion. Ache for ache. Smile for smile. I only ever wanted to live this life with her.
“Hey, guys,” Daisy whispers, just barely shaking my attention. “Did you see which way Ryke went?” I never saw my brother pass through the kitchen again, but Connor points towards the side door to outside. I glance out the window over the sink.
My brother sits on the grass by the red chairs, knees bent. He stares out, the sky morphing from dark to light blue. And I know.
He’s waiting for the sun to rise.
Lily breaks from my side, just to put Kinney in a bouncer beside Audrey, both girls still asleep. I grip the sink coun
ter, the side door clattering as Daisy heads out. She walks across the grass, light on her feet—going towards my brother.
I’m proud of Daisy. For never listening to me. Or her mom. Or her dad. I’m goddamn proud of Daisy for becoming the woman that she wanted to be.
My lips lift just slightly, and I turn my head. “Lily.” She’s not far, her hands on my waistband. I clasp one in mine, and I nod towards outside. She nods back, and silently, we leave through the side door, following my brother and her sister’s footsteps to the hill.
Daisy sits between Ryke’s legs, back against his chest, his arms wrapped around her frame. Their eyes touch the horizon.
I take a seat on the grass only a few feet from Ryke, and Lily plops next to me. I hold her as she holds me, her cheek resting against my shoulder. My eyes fix ahead, and I try to see what my brother sees in the sky. Orange colors that melt into blue.
My gaze breaks when Connor walks outside, hands in his pockets until Rose reaches him. Side-by-side. He laces his fingers with hers, and their heads turn. So does mine. To look back ahead.
Just as the sun rises.
With the six of us on this hill and the packed lake house behind us—I feel sentiments far beyond this sunrise, this morning, this moment. We filled an empty house.
I’m thirty-seven.
Just yesterday I was twenty and meeting some of these people—people that I’d spend my life with, that’d become my home.
Just yesterday I was twenty—still deeply and desperately in love with my best friend.
I grew older.
We all grow older.
In a blink of an eye, our children will grow old too.
And I’ll think: just yesterday they were twenty. Headed for college. Falling in love. Memories will flood behind us, the lake house no longer filled to the brim. As quiet as the moment we first walked in—and we’ll sit on this hill. Feeling the stillness that exists.
And then we end—we end where we started.
Just us.
All six of us.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Deep breaths.
Where do we even begin? The Addicted/Calloway Sisters series has been a journey from start to finish, and if you’ve reached this point with us. If you have read all 10 books, you have read over 1 million of our words.