Long Way Down (Calloway Sisters 4)

“Fuck you,” Ryke actually says to Connor.

All the guys laugh, and the rest of us join in too.

Lo kisses Lily’s temple. “How’d you know I bought you Ho Hos?” My sister loves food and people with interesting names. I think that’s a top-notch way to go in life.

This is when her cheeks redden. “I saw them this morning. Moffy ate one,” she blurts out.

Lo feigns disapproval. “Are you tattling on our son, Lily Martha Hale?”

“Mmhhh,” she nods quickly.

Lo gives her a look. “Who’s the lying liar here?”

Lily combusts, “Okay, I ate the Ho Ho! I knew you did something nice just because—and I ate your surprise. I’m the lying liar.” She exhales like it felt amazing to speak the truth and nothing but the truth. Even over something so small.

Lo wraps his arms around her waist. “I hope that Ho Ho tasted good, love.”

“Really good.”

I’m having trouble not bursting out laughing.

Lily raises her hands in the air. “I know it sounds sexual, everyone, but I don’t care.” She lifts her chin and looks right into Lo’s eyes. “How was that?”

He looks like he’d ask her to marry him all over again. “Perfect,” he breathes.

I’d say that I’ve never seen them more in love, but they’ve always been this way together. It’s why I know they’ll still be the same Lily and Lo, the same Lo and Lily, fifty years down the road.

Soon after their exchange, we all fall silent again.

Lo joked about it being a funeral in here, but no one seems sad. When we start airing this documentary series, some of our deepest wounds will be public knowledge. We’re letting more people into our circle in hopes of appearing a little more human in their eyes. These memories we’ve sheltered together will no longer just be ours to keep safe. We’re strong enough to give them away.

With that comes this bittersweet feeling. I sense all of us passing that sensation around. We’re moving forward, but we also have to leave these priceless treasures behind.

Before my sisters and I start crying, Lo cuts in to shift the mood. “So what are you sharing first?” Lo asks me. “How you accidentally drank absinthe in Cancun?” Ryke carried me in his arms. “That one Halloween where you jumped off the roof into the pool?” I was a flying deer. “Or how about”—I don’t like that look in his eye—“when Ryke filmed close-ups of his P in your V?”

Oh.

My God.

I cover my face with my hands, slightly mortified as Sam and Poppy hear this.

“Fucking really?” Ryke growls at his brother. He throws a dishtowel at Lo, but it lands on Lily’s head.

Mission fail.

Ryke hugs me closer, probably feeling the heat of my embarrassment. I wince into his arm like that was physically painful. I thought I blocked that memory from long ago. I may joke around a lot about sex, but I can still be embarrassed like almost everyone.

I’m looking at you, Connor Cobalt.

Sam shakes his head repeatedly with a cringe. “I don’t want any details, so please don’t start giving them.”

Poppy smiles. “I kind of do.”

“Poppy,” Lo says, “when did you get so kinky?”

She dips raw broccoli into ranch dressing. “I may be older than you, but I’m not celibate, you know.”

“You have sex?” Lo feigns surprise. “Jesus Christ. I had no idea. All this time I thought your daughter was delivered by a fluffy stork.”

Sam rubs his temples like Lo is giving him a migraine. “We’re not opening our sex life for discussion. I’d rather discuss…” He gestures from Ryke to me.

“Fuck no.” Ryke shuts that down.

“Yeah, fuck no,” I pipe in, a heartier smile than before.

Thankfully we divert a lecture from Samuel Stokes—one about “not filming things that could leak on the internet”—as soon as Garrison says, “I’m going to miss hearing this shit.”

Lo frowns. “Where are you going?”

Garrison turns off his phone. “You won’t see as much of me around your house after Willow leaves. I just won’t have a reason to stop by.”

Willow pushes up her glasses, and I realize the lenses are fogging.

Everyone goes quiet again.

We all stare around at each other. Engraining this last certain kind of picture. We started out practically unknown. Then we were swept into the limelight. Years of slowly entering fame culture. Years of protecting one another. Years of growing and missteps and falling backwards.

I want to say in the end, but maybe this is still the middle. In the middle.

I’ve watched Lo become sober.

I’ve watched Lily curb a relentless addiction. (I’m proud of you, sis.)

I’ve watched Rose blaze her own trail and put fire to stereotypes.

I’ve watched Connor fall in love. With more than just himself.

I’ve watched Ryke Meadows unclip his shackles and rise again.

And me. I’ve discovered who I am. I’m not letting her go or hiding her to please other people. I am Daisy Petunia Meadows. And I’m here to stay.

I hop down from the counter, all attention rerouting to me. “So I’m off,” I tell them. I’m the guinea pig for the documentary series interviews. The first to film. I offered since I proposed the idea. My eyes drift to Lo. “I could tell you what I’m sharing first, but it’ll be more fun if you find out during episode one.”

He rests his chin on Lily’s shoulder, slightly hunched to do so. “If it’s about me, just remember to use the word bastard.” He flashes that half-smile. He can call himself a bastard, but I haven’t heard him call himself an “idiot” in years.

Loren Hale isn’t as self-hating as he used to be.

And he’s less of a bastard than he may ever realize.

I promise him this, “I’ll paint the most accurate picture of you.” I look around. “Of all of you.” They all trust me, just as I trust them. If anyone knows the many, many layers that cause us to run, to hide, to scream, to stay quiet—that make up who we are—it’s all of us.

Lo, Lily, Connor, Rose, Ryke, and me.

As I step away from the counters, Ryke climbs off with our daughter in his arms. He follows me towards the basement. I glance over my shoulder, at our friends and our family.

We all wear armor made of love and time.

Together, we can defeat anything. So wicked foes, prepare your slingshots. We’re ready for you. You can’t hurt us anymore.

* * *

Cameras and lighting are pointed at the oversized leather furniture. I sit cross-legged on the couch while Ryke is out of frame behind the main camera. He cradles our daughter in the crook of his arms. She stirs a little, her tiny lips parted as she makes a cute noise.

Just watching Ryke hold her does a number on my heart. He’s the most attentive, caring father that I’ve ever seen. He’d cradle her all hours of the day if he could, but I think he likes watching her in my arms just as much as I love watching her in his.

We made a baby together.

Shh, don’t tell my sixteen-year-old self. She’d never stop smiling in front of Ryke Meadows.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he reminds me. He’ll press record when I give him the go.

I pull my gaze off him and onto the camera lens.

There’s so much that I want to say. That I need to tell. Words and memories tumble through me, and I trip over these significant moments in time. With friends that I thought were friends. People that I thought were kind people.

I may sound naïve. I may sound like a fool, but at the start of this journey, I was only fifteen. Do you remember that? Do you remember me?

I’m not just speaking to two girls who’ve wronged me over time. Cleo and Harper haven’t been able to contact me since Garrison secured my accounts. They haven’t been able to sneak through the neighborhood security gates—though I’ve heard they’ve tried two more times.

I’m

talking to everyone. To show the truth behind the images on Celebrity Crush and the backlash and the hate.

I’m speaking to you.

You don’t have to love me, but maybe you’ll see me in a new way.

I rub my thighs, my pulse beating hard. “I’m ready,” I nod to Ryke.

He turns the camera on, the red light glowing.

I take a short moment before I begin, “This is the first interview of the brand new documentary series called We Are Calloway.”

I pause for a second, tears welling with a powerful, unyielding sentiment.