Lo kicks some rocks and twigs away from the place where we’re setting the tents, clearing anything sharp that’ll dig into our backs. He does so with a distant gaze, lost inside his head.

“Hey.” I come up beside him. “You want to go to a fucking hotel too?”

He glances at the thick woods that surround us and gestures towards the pines. “Don’t act like you didn’t see an RV past those trees.” He points at the tall ones that seclude us from the other campsites.

It’s a national park. There are other campers. I can’t change that. But at least we have some privacy. I recognize his fears though. This trip is supposed to be paparazzi free. For us to live off the grid and be absent of the media.

That’s what I promised him.

If some road-tripping family recognizes us, snaps some pictures and posts them to the web, we’re fucked. But this is the best I can do.

“They’re not going to find us here, Lo.”

His eyes darken, not completely trusting me. I don’t know if he ever will. “In rehab they had a five-star gourmet chef on call. Your pseudo-rehab isn’t really living up to my expectations.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t hire a fucking butler or maid, and I forgot to pack those scented toilettes you use to wipe your ass,” I snap. He’s not a rich snob that he makes himself out to be. He just likes to poke people until he sees a reaction. “If you want to go to rehab in New York, I’m not fucking stopping you, Lo. I’m just giving you another option.” I outstretch my arms. “Open air. Freedom from the media. A normal fucking life for a month. Something that the rehab center isn’t going to provide you with.” At least not when everyone there will know he’s Loren Hale. Another celebrity checking themselves into the center.

Like clockwork.

I wait for his response, and Connor returns, watching my brother as well, seeing what his decision will be. I can support either choice, but I want to be available if he goes to rehab. I can’t be on the road with shitty cell reception while he’s back in New York.

So if he chooses rehab, this trip to California is over. For Daisy, for me. I’d pick my brother in this instance. I have to.

After a long moment of silence, Lo looks at me. “Hotdogs and hamburgers tonight?”

My limbs loosen in relief. “Yeah,” I say with a nod. “You okay with that?”

“As long as Connor doesn’t cook them. He doesn’t understand that medium-rare means red and bloody.”

“No, I understand the meaning of medium-rare,” Connor counters. “I just also understand the meaning of Escherichia coli.”

“Why the fuck can’t you just say E. coli?” I ask.

“Because abbreviations are lazy and I’m clearly not.”

I shouldn’t have asked.

Daisy tries to carry a stack of fold-out chairs in her arms all at once. I take a step forward to go help her, but Lo puts his hand on my chest. “I’ve got this.” He pats my shoulder with force, silently warning me, and then sprints to catch Daisy before she falls.

She laughs while he takes two chairs off her pile.

“You’re glaring,” Connor tells me.

“Fuck off.” Though I do try to lessen the agitation that tenses my jaw.

“Maybe try acting like you don’t want to murder your brother for stepping in your way.”

“It’s hard,” I say truthfully. I scratch my neck. “What would you do if you were me?” Maybe it’s masochistic of me to ask after what happened at the motel. But I want to hear his answer anyway.

“If I were you? You mean if I was screwing an eighteen-year-old girl who’s my brother’s girlfriend’s little sister, whose mother hates me because I’m the spawn of Sara Hale, and whose father dislikes likes me because he’s protective over his youngest, wildest daughter?”

I open my mouth to chew him out, but he cuts me off.

“But if I’m you,” he says with the tilt of his head, “I’ve also been there for that girl. When she had an ape of a boyfriend, when she was alone and all backs were turned, when she was going through heavier things than all of us realized.” His calm tone soothes any anger that threatens to rise. Just like that. “If I were you, Ryke, I’d stop letting people see the worst parts of me, and I’d finally show them the good.” He shrugs. “But I’m clearly not you.” He stares around at the forest landscape. “And you’re not me.”

“I just don’t see what good it’ll do to have those fucking arguments.” I don’t want to fight. I just want to leave it all behind. I watch Daisy unfold all of the chairs with Lo. He motions to her messily cut hair, and she shows him the back, the blonde strands uneven. He shakes his head, but her face has never been brighter, even with a scar.

“Why does there have to be an argument?” Connor asks.

“You think people are just going to accept any explanation that comes out of my mouth? I can talk to her mom until she’s blue in the fucking face. She won’t accept me, Connor. Her dad let Daisy date Julian, a guy my age who thought more with his cock than his head, and I’m the one who receives threatening looks when I stop by her parent’s house.”

“First off, he didn’t let her date Julian,” Connor notes. “He was furious. You weren’t there when Jonathan and Greg were trying to plot ways to have him fired from his modeling agency.”

“That clearly didn’t work.”

“I said tried,” Connor says easily. “I never said they were successful.” He presses a few buttons on his phone again. “Greg is a smart guy, Ryke. Even though you aren’t dating Daisy out in the open, he’s known since she was fifteen that she’s had a crush on you. He’s just worried you’re going to lead her on and break her heart.”

I wish I had a better relationship with her parents, but I don’t. In order to be Greg’s friend like Connor is, I’d have to start talking to my father. Greg and Jonathan see each other all the fucking time. Greg used to stop by the country club on Mondays when I was a kid. He was the water to my father’s scotch. Nice. Cool, even. Sometimes I used to wish he was my dad.

“I know this is going to seem like such a foreign concept to you,” Connor says, raising his phone in the air again, “but if you actually show that you’re invested in a girl beyond sex in front of people that matter, you’ll gain more respect from them.”

But he forgets that I don’t speak with an even-tempered voice. I’m rough. I’m abrasive as hell, and the moment I try to talk, everything comes out coarse. Nothing comes out how I really intend. I gave Daisy sex advice when she was fifteen because I was trying to steer her towards the kind of guys that would treat her right. And I got shit on for that conversation for the next two fucking years.

“Hey,” Lo calls. He holds up a package of hamburgers and then points at the tent that Daisy tries to set up alone. “You two helping or is doing five things at once part of my rehabilitation?”

I’m about to walk over to him, but Connor inhales and puts the phone to his ear. “Rose?” He frowns. “What? Wait, darling…you’re breaking up.” He looks at the cell, actually glaring at the technology. He turns to Lo. “You better set out two more chairs.”

“No.” I groan. “Lily promised me she wouldn’t arrive early.” All three Calloway girls for twenty long days in a confined space—shit.

“She broke it then,” Connor says, trying to sigh in relief, but he still looks worried. “Rose said they’re ten minutes out before the line dropped.”

Fuck me.

< 37 >

DAISY CALLOWAY

Rose and Lily are here.

At the beginning, I was too stunned to do anything but smile, a full-blown one filled with genuine happiness. I didn’t realize how much I wanted them here until they arrived. Lily hugs me tight, and I try to convince them to sneak away with me. Girl time, no boys.

But they have to reunite with their respective partners.

I back away from my sisters while Lo wraps his arms around Lily. She’s wearing her Wampa cap, a white furry hat that has flaps for her ears. Lo whispers to her, and she blushes bright red. As I keep backing up, I bump into something hard and two pairs of hands rest on my shoulders.

I crane my neck. “Hey you,” I say to Ryke. He stares at me with those brooding eyes. I wish he could kiss me the way Lo bathes Lily in his love. Out in the open, passionate beautiful kisses that seem to make them float off the earthen floor. But even in the darkened night, the campfire flickers close by, illuminating our features.

We can’t hide with everyone around.

Rose and Connor talk in French. He kisses her forehead, rubbing the back of her neck with tender affection, and her nose crinkles. “What animal died beside our tents?” She puts her hand to her mouth.

“Are you burning the burgers?” Lo asks Ryke, and I feel his hands drop off me, cold air replacing the spot.

“No, I just started cooking them.” Ryke checks the burgers just to make sure, leaving my side.

I sniff the air. “I don’t smell anything except wood smoke.” I hike over to where Rose stands, her five-inch heels sinking in the dirt. Connor has his arm around her waist, and he tries to kindly take her purse from her, but Rose swats him with it.

“I’m not lying,” she says. “It smells foul.”

“It’s probably the fucking pit toilet,” Ryke tells her. “You passed it in your car on the way here.”

Rose shakes her head. “It’s closer.” She pinches her nose and gags dramatically.

“Maybe it’s your own stench,” Lo says, holding Lily to his chest like she’s a part of him, a piece that had been missing this whole time. He seems happier. “Bitch No. 5.”

Rose points a threatening finger at him, manicured and blood red. “You insult Chanel and my heel will find your asshole in a millisecond, Loren.”