Becca Ritchie - Addicted for Now

But he can barely look at her without his breath shortening.

“Just answer me one thing,” Ryke says. “How did you find out that she was a sex addict? I never told you that.” He didn’t? I thought maybe that’s how she learned.

Sara sniffs and gestures to his pocket. “Your cell…your texts…”

Oh God.

Ryke pinches his eyes.

She read his texts. I’m sure there are many mentioning my addiction, or hinting about it. Ryke always asked how therapy went. He was the first person to tell Lo and me that aversion therapy is sadistic and to stop seeing Dr. Evans. And before that, he most likely texted back and forth with Lo about my progress with Allison.

Lo kisses my hand a couple times, and he wipes my tears with his thumb. I let go of his palm because I think we both know that I’m not the one crumbling right now. I don’t even need to nudge Lo. He’s beside his brother within the second.

“So you found their numbers from my cell?” Ryke asks, trying to suppress more tears, his eyes bloodshot.

“I just…” She cries into her hand.

“You what?” Ryke says. “You wanted me to stop hanging out with Lo? You wanted Jonathan’s son to suffer because Lo took me from you? That’s…fucked up, Mom. That’s real fucked up.”

“Please…it sounds worse than it is.”

“I assure you, it’s that bad.” Ryke tries to take a deep breath, but he can’t quite let it out. “Well, you got what you wanted. I hope you’re happy with that.” Ryke turns to Lo. “Can you help me finish my room? And then we can get out of here.”

“Sure.”

We leave his mother bawling in the corner of the kitchen. I almost feel bad. Almost. But when I see Ryke, that pity for her transforms into hate again. Because she hurt her son more than she could hurt me. This was personal, and even though she was going after Jonathan, she hit Ryke directly in the heart.

The door closes, and Ryke just shatters completely.

He squats in the middle of the room, his hands on his head, not able to take a full breath. “What the fuck?” he keeps repeating. “What the fuck?” He laughs painfully into a broken sob.

Lo bends beside him and sets a hand on his back. “Hey, you’re all right. It’s okay.”

Ryke covers his face in his hands and he screams, all the pent-up rage coming. He suddenly shoots to his feet, his reddened eyes pinging around the room, crazed and tear-streaked. He finds a baseball bat.

“Whoa, whoa,” Lo says, prying the weapon from Ryke’s hand.

“I need to hit something,” Ryke says, restless.

“Just sit down.”

“I can’t!” Ryke screams. “My mother fucking ruined your life! None of this would have happened if it weren’t for—”

And then Lo pulls him to his chest, for a hug. Ryke hesitates for a second, and I wonder if he’s going to release his aggression on Lo by punching him. Instead, he fists the back of Lo’s shirt, and they stay like that, with Ryke choking, with his body vibrating in agony and guilt, and Lo clutching tightly, not letting go.

“It’s not your fault,” Lo says, holding onto his older brother.

Many months ago, the roles were reversed. Lo would have never been strong enough to be a support for someone else, especially someone that hardly ever breaks down.

I wipe a few silent tears. I know the kind of remorse that puts deep pain on your chest, the kind that feels as weighted as Atlas bearing the world. It’s soul-crushing.

“Listen to me,” Lo breathes in his ear. “Meeting you was the best thing that’s ever happened to us. I’m sober and Lily’s in recovery. None of that would have been possible if it wasn’t for you.” He shakes Ryke, and a tear slips out of Lo’s eye. “You are the fucking reason I’m with the girl I love; you’re my brother, so don’t you ever feel guilty for what’s happened now. That’s not on you.” He holds up Ryke’s face to look him in the eyes. “Hey, you hear me?”

Ryke nods over and over, trying to believe the words. After a long pause, Ryke says in a strained voice, “Our parents spent so much time hating each other that they didn’t even fucking realize what they were doing to us.” He shakes his head in a daze.

Lo squeezes his shoulder.

I stay quiet, not wanting to disturb them, but I’m thankful that through all of this, they both have each other. Even though Sara and Jonathan repelled their child with their constant fighting, they’ve also unconsciously drawn their sons together.

Ryke stares at the boxes. “I’m never coming back here.”

“Are you sure?” Lo asks.

“Yeah,” Ryke nods. He pats Lo’s back. “Yeah, I’m sure.” And through the silence, I hear the words that pass between them.

You’re my family.

I think we can finally move on.

My father didn’t tell me Sara Hale was the leak to protect himself. Or me.

He was protecting Ryke.

While the news has devastated Ryke, I am freed by it. I can stop being so rooted in hate. Now I can try to be a better man than my father. I can breathe.

My fist raps a black door. No one stands beside me. No one’s here for me to lean on. I am alone with my own resolve, and maybe months ago that wouldn’t have been enough.

The door flies open and almost swings right back in my face. I brace the frame with a hand. “Hear me out,” I tell him.

Aaron Wells lets out an exasperated sigh, but he surrenders to my plea. “What do you want, Loren? I thought we already had this talk four months ago?” It’s been that long?

“This is a different talk.”

His eyes darken and he crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re not coming inside this time, and just so you know Julie isn’t home. So don’t try screaming for her either.”

“I don’t want to talk to Julie.”

“Then what do you want?” What do I want? Why do people always ask me that?

“You met me at a really bad time in my life, and you were just being nice by inviting me to your party.”

“And then you broke every wine bottle in my parent’s cellar. Yeah, I remember,” he says. “Is this your way of apologizing? Is this like Step 7 in AA or something? Do you have to go around and ask for forgiveness from everyone you screwed over?”

I shake my head. “It’s nothing like that. I’m not asking you to forgive me, and I can’t forgive you for what you did to Lily.” I want to, but maybe that type of strength is out of my control.

His jaw locks, and I sense that he’s about to slam the door back in my face. “But,” I say quickly, “one of us should have been the bigger person and stopped it before it got out of hand.”

“You mean before you and your father made sure I wouldn’t get accepted into an Ivy League,” he growls. “Thanks for that.”

“Look, you don’t have to be my friend or anything. You can hate me all you want, but I came here to tell you that I’m sorry.” The words are hard to produce, and I don’t feel exactly better by saying them. I’m not searching for that relief. I just know that this is right. And this is what I have to do. “I’m done,” I say. “Whatever shit we had in the past, it’s the past for me. You want to carry it around, fine. Regardless, I want you to have these.” I remove two white envelopes from my back pocket.

His eyes glaze over them with curiosity and then he snorts. “Are you buying my forgiveness with tickets to Wrigley Field?”

“You told me that you couldn’t get a job and compete with Ivy grads,” I say. “That should help start your career. Greg Calloway and my father wrote references for you. I know there’s lots of bad energy with the companies, but Fizzle and Hale Co. are still world-renowned. It still means something.”

Aaron stares at the letters and shakes his head. “I don’t want your fucking charity, especially if you’re only doing this to make yourself feel better.”

“I’m doing it because it’s right,” I say in irritation. “Burn it if you want. And I promise, you won’t ever have to see me again.”

I turn around and descend the stone steps. Lily waits in the car for me, tapping her hands to the dashboard and singing aloud to whatever song blares through the speakers. I immediately smile.

“Loren!”

I look back. Aaron’s face has softened into something less hateful. Almost like the first time I met him, when he was just that nice lacrosse kid inviting me to his party. “I’m sorry too,” he says.

Hearing the words are almost as hard as saying them. I see him terrorizing Lily for months, cornering her in the halls. I realize how difficult it must have been to listen to me say the same thing. My throat closes up before I can speak. So I just nod.

I set my sights on Lily again.

She is my past, my present, my future. So when I open the door and slide into the driver’s seat, I’m not surprised that it feels like I’m returning home.

My nerves rocket the closer we reach our house in Princeton. I can’t stop fidgeting, and Lily keeps giving me weird looks. I spout off some story about a new client for Halway Comics.

Our apartment feels abandoned when we walk inside.

“Rose!” Lily calls out. She doesn’t know that Rose is staying over Connor’s tonight, that I have specifically vacated this place for us.

“She must be working late,” I say.

“She works too much.” Lily heads to the kitchen. “Maybe we should cook her dinner…” She thinks about this, probably remembering she can’t cook. “Or order her dinner and bring it to her office? She’d like that.”

She would. If she were at her office.

“I’m sure Connor already had dinner delivered to her,” I say, hooking my fingers in her belt loops.