Long Way Down (Calloway Sisters 4)

“You’re called a fucking cinnamon roll,” I retort like that makes as much sense as raisins. It’s his favorite dessert, but Daisy said that Willow explained “cinnamon roll” had nothing to do with what he eats. Just an “amazing” coincidence.

I’m actually really fucking confused.

“Yeah,” Lo rebuts, “and who doesn’t love a cinnamon roll?”

Lily says to me, “Beautiful cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure.”

That’s it. Everyone’s lost their fucking minds.

Daisy smiles. “It’s a meme, Ryke.”

“Don’t try to explain it to him,” Lo says. “It took him a solid six months to fully function on Twitter.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hashtag Raisin Hell.”

“It’s Raisy,” Lily emphasizes for the millionth time since Dais and I have been together.

“Sounds like a bunch of raisins to me.”

Lily, distracted, squints at her phone with a pout, taking the video post to heart way more than us. I think about all those magazine headlines about three-ways between Lil, my brother, and me. Sometimes, I forget how much invisible, jagged tension cuts between Lily and Daisy.

Lily feels guilty and wants to do everything in her fucking power to show how much “Ryke and Daisy” are meant to be. And not her and me.

Daisy feels guilty for Lily’s remorse. Lily feels responsible for Daisy’s pain. This vicious fucking cycle has been churning for years. I hate that these rumors and perceptions have festered this deep and this long. I don’t even know if the girls can climb over it all.

Lily starts typing. “I’m going to do a hashtag with Raisy is Alive.”

“I like it,” Daisy says, giving her sister two thumbs-up.

#TeamRaisy is one of the only things that unifies them against the three-way shit. As much as Lo teases about raisins, he knows it too.

“We better go back,” Lo says. “Can’t keep the King and Queen waiting.”

When we return to the living room, I immediately see Moffy staring at a comic book beside the unlit fireplace while Janie inspects a teal rattle toy. Moffy struggles to flip the very thin pages, and Lo sets his bowl on the coffee table to help his son.

I guide Daisy around the couch, my hands firm on her shoulders, and then stop as soon as Connor carries an overflowing plastic tub full of feather boas, tiaras, and what looks like a penis piñata. Rose appears and unleashes a flurry of pink and black balloons with the words Blow Me and Pop Me.

I watch them float to the ceiling.

“Fucking really?” I’m mostly surprised they went this all-out to help us trick the world. Then again, Rose likes the act of decorating a party more than the fucking party.

Connor sets the plastic tub beside the couch. “I’d answer you, but that would be recognizing your statement as a real, viable question. Which I don’t.” His eyes flit to Daisy’s shirt and then my pants. Amusement lights his eyes, and his grin is fucking palpable.

“Don’t fucking ask,” I snap.

“I don’t have to ask to know,” he says easily. “And Ryke?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t cum in my pants.”

Lo starts laughing so hard I think he may roll over onto the fireplace. Daisy’s body vibrates with growing laughter too.

I spin her around. “You think that’s funny, Calloway?” I try to pretend to be fucking serious about it but a smile toys with my lips the longer I watch her brim with enjoyment.

She tries to bottle the sentiments and put on a straight face. “That was the un-funniest un-funny thing I’ve ever heard. Who would laugh at such things?” Her lips curve up and then she snorts.

I push her shoulder, and then she pushes mine, a wicked grin rising.

Rose snaps her fingers at us. “Less flirting, more concentration.” She passes silver sashes to us. I’m the fucking bachelor on one and I’m the fucking bachelorette on the other. Lily and Lo are already fixing paper crowns that say Maid of Honor and Best Man respectively.

It’s like we’re putting on a play, and in some way, this is theater for the outside world.

“Willow and Garrison are stuck in traffic,” Lily says, her cell still cupped in her hands. “They’re getting the cake.” My relationship with Willow hasn’t stepped out of the “awkward” phase, and I’ve given it a lot of fucking time to change naturally. Don’t be pushy with her, I’ve told myself. Now I’m starting to wonder if it’ll ever be different than what it is.

Daisy tugs my sash, capturing my attention, and the longer my features remain fixed and hard, the more she inches closer. I shove her shoulder lightly again.

She breaks into a grin and then tries to thrust me back—I seize her wrist and pull her to my chest. In seconds, I hoist Daisy over my shoulder and then slam her back onto the couch cushions. A breath catches in her throat like oxygen lashes her lungs.

I climb on top, ensuring her fucking extra-large shirt isn’t rolled up. Then I place my hands on the armrest above her head. Her green eyes, full of curiosity, sparkle up at me.

Lo butts in, “Where’s your phone?”

It takes me a long fucking moment to process his question, unable to tear my gaze off her. “My bike jacket.”

Daisy writhes beneath me and tries to seize my arms. To pin me. I nuzzle her cheek with my jaw and scoop her waist, lifting her body up against mine.

“What’s your password?” Lo asks.

“2108.”

I ask Lo, “Why do you need my fucking phone?”

Daisy snatches my left wrist, our legs woven together, and then we somehow roll off the fucking couch, wrestling. Like animals.

She pants with excitement, lifting my arms, thinking she can pin me this time. Then I slide on top of her, reversing the fucking position. I rake my fingers through her hair, and she clutches my thick brown strands. I nip her ear with my teeth, and her smile stretches wider.

I keep yanking her shirt down, covering her thighs. My muscles flex, my weight almost bearing down on her, but I prop half my body off Daisy’s long, slender frame.

She raises her head, her lips nearing my lips. And she whispers, “What are you going to do to me, pack leader?”

My blood heats, and in the pit of her ear, I murmur, “Make wolf pups with you.”

Daisy almost lets out a breathy cry, but my hand runs over her mouth, quieting the noise.

“Goddamn, where is your photo app?” Lo asks, scrolling through my cell.

I go rigid and realize he never answered my previous question. O

r maybe he did, and I just didn’t hear. “You’re going through my photos?” I sit up while Daisy’s eyes grow wide in horror.

Lo leans against the fireplace. “We’re trying to post more Raisin pics on Twitter. Lily wants your selfies.”

Fuck.

I practically spring to my fucking feet. Because my “selfies” aren’t the kind Lily is referring to. “Hey, get off my phone. Let me just send them to you.” I haven’t counted how many dick pics I have saved in my photo album, but it’d probably take him less than a fucking second to stumble over one.

I sprint across the living room to reach my brother. And then noises blare from my cell’s speakers at loud volume.

High-pitched cries of pleasure.

Daisy’s cries.

My low groan in the background.

Fuck.

Fuck.

The bottom of my stomach just drops, and dread contorts Lo’s face before cementing in a cringe. By the fireplace, I go to steal my cell back, but in horror, Lo flings my phone as far from himself as possible.

Across the fucking room.

It thuds on the rug. By Connor’s feet.

I catch a glimpse of Daisy, sinking into the couch with bright red cheeks, mortified.

Fuck me. I set my hands on my head, drop them, and then fucking race over to Connor to end this. The video clip plays, loudly enough that Rose is frozen in utter shock by the plastic tub of boas.

Lily covers her ears with her hands, eyes tightened shut.

“I can’t…” emits from the speakers followed by a breathy gasp.

Daisy buries her face into a pillow.

“Shut it off,” I tell Connor, and right as I approach him, he picks up the phone, eyes flitting to the screen, and calmly hands me the cell. Like it’s nothing.

I hastily mute the fucking video, an extreme close-up of my cock thrusting into Daisy. I rub my face once, the silence deafening.

My main concern is Daisy, who’s red hot with embarrassment.

DAISY CALLOWAY

What.

The.

Fuck.

I open my mouth to toss out a joke, lighten the awkward tension, but my mind is a black abyss. As though to protect me from replaying one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.