“Then why hang the certificate?” I ask.

He shrugs. “It matched the walls.”

I shake my head. “It’s a fucking miracle that I haven’t punched you yet, Cobalt.”

“Back to the situation,” Lo says, eyes locked on me.

I grab a glass from the cabinet. Fuck, he can’t know, can he? My heart starts pounding. How would he find out that I’m sleeping in Daisy’s bed? He wouldn’t. I’m being fucking paranoid. This is information that I never want to share with him. “What is it?” I pour orange juice and listen.

“We think it’s weird that you haven’t brought a girl around in a long time.”

I frown. That’s what this is about? “So?”

Lo shifts his weight, confusion blanketing him. “So…you used to date someone new every week.”

“You know,” I tell my brother, “there are reasons why I don’t fucking live with all of you anymore.” I hold up a finger. “One, I like my privacy, and that means not showing off the couple of women I date every month.” I raise another finger. “Two, you all like to blow shit out of proportion. And three…” I lower my first two fingers and hold up my middle one.

And then I turn my back to them and cap the orange juice slowly.

I’m lying to my brother right now.

It feels like I’m walking over burning coals. I hate lying to him, and I’ve done it before. Each time never gets easier. I can see the thick fog I’ve created, the one that clouds my relationship with Lo. But I’m not my father, hurting his sons to protect his own reputation.

I lie to protect Daisy.

To protect Lo.

I lie because it’s going to hurt less than the truth. And when the truth does come out, I want to make sure that Lo is strong enough to bear it. Right now, he’s not even fucking close.

So I can’t say, Yeah, man, I’ve stopped dating for four fucking months because I’ve been busy taking care of your girlfriend’s little sister, spending nights at her place, even sleeping in her bed just so she can stop being so fucking scared. And I don’t miss those other girls, but I do miss being laid.

I’m not used to jerking off every fucking day.

“Ryke,” Connor says, and I spin around to meet a face that studies mine with too much fucking knowledge and suspicion. “It’s just odd. You’re what I would call a serial dater, as is Daisy, and since she graduated and moved into your apartment complex, no one has seen either of you with someone else.”

“What is this?” I say, looking between Connor and Lo. “Watson and Holmes? I hate to break it to both of you, but there’s no fucking mystery to be solved.”

“Cut the shit,” Lo says. “It’s weird, and you know—”

“I’m not with her,” I interject. “I’m not fucking Daisy. I’m not touching her. I told you, Lo, I wouldn’t.” We’ve been through this for over two years. And he still looks at me like I’m one second from betraying him, like I’m going to choose a girl over him, like I’m going to cross a big fucking line that will destroy the relationships that matter to me.

I wouldn’t. I fucking won’t. Because at the end of the day, if Daisy and I got together, if something happened and we broke up, I’d lose my brother. She’s like his little sister. He grew up with the Calloway girls. Daisy has known him her whole fucking life. I’ve known Lo for three years. For fuck’s sake, I am the thing that can be tossed aside. Everything’s confusing. Nothing makes complete sense. My dick says one thing. My head says another. I have morals. I have Lo’s constant warnings. I have five kinds of wrong and no kinds of right.

What the fuck am I supposed to do?

“Okay,” Lo says, watching me closely, seeing the anger pulse in my eyes.

I’m so fucking screwed. If he ever finds out that I sleep in Daisy’s bed, that I’m practically her fucking roommate, he’s going to kill me. Really, murder could be a fucking option in Loren Hale’s twisted mind, and I think I’d let him do it.

“Look,” I tell Lo and Connor, “I date girls for a week, sometimes a couple of fucking days if they don’t pan out. I’m not going to bring one of them to Princeton so you guys can meet her. It’s never serious. The strings that I tie down are the ones that mean something to me.” My eyes flicker to each of them. “I haven’t found a girl that I want to tie myself to, and I don’t know if I ever will.”

“You will,” Lo says certainly, nodding like he’s trying to convince himself of it.

“It’s okay if I don’t.” I’m surrounded by people I care about. That can be enough for me.

Lo’s sharp gaze meets mine. “You’re not going to be alone forever.”

He says it like a declaration. I think he wants the best for me, but I also think that side battles with his selfish feelings. The ones that say: I need one-hundred percent of you or else I’m going to drown.

“So what if I am?” I say. “Lo, I didn’t grow up with a Lily Calloway. I didn’t have a best friend turned girlfriend.” Lily was literally the girl next door, a family friend that he trusted with everything. Now they’re engaged. I’m not envious of their co-dependent relationship that has thankfully grown a little healthier throughout the years.

I just recognize that he’s different from me, even if we are alike in some ways.

“I’m fucking used to relying on myself,” I add.

Lo just shakes his head like I’m an idiot—to be satisfied with something less. But maybe I don’t deserve something more. Maybe the point of my fucking life is to help my brother get on his feet.

Connor passes Lo the bowl of whisked eggs, and my brother hesitates to pour them in the pan. “Let’s wait for the girls to come out.”

“How’s Lily doing?” I ask him.

He sets the bowl on the counter. “Better than me.” He rubs the back of his neck. “She tries to bring up my dad and alcohol, but honestly, it’s just fucking hard sometimes.” His amber eyes meet mine. “His lawyers said they can’t reach you for questioning. I told them that you don’t want to go on record.”

“Thanks,” I say.

Lo shrugs. “Yeah, whatever.”

I run my hand through my hair, feeling Connor watching us like a psychiatrist fucking would. There’s a lot there, okay? I don’t want to see our dad, and Lo is complying with that for now.

“I’m going to go check on Daisy in the garage,” I tell them, avoiding any plans they have to convince me to see Jonathan Hale. And plus, I want to know what she’s fucking doing alone in there.

“Tell her the food is almost ready,” Lo says.

I nod, heading to the back door.

We each have our roles, and I know mine is to keep an eye on this girl and that guy.

I just don’t ever want to be faced with the decision of having to choose between them.

If that day comes, then fuck me.

< 5 >

RYKE MEADOWS

I shut the door behind me, finding Daisy almost immediately. She sits backwards on her parked Ducati, the same brand as mine, only red to my black. She leans back against the gas can near the handles and props a map on her legs, a Sharpie cap between her teeth.

Her carefree nature always fucking draws me to her—even when I wish I could stay fifteen feet away. It doesn’t help that her legs are spread apart. I’m so fucking thankful she’s single right now. I hate her ex-boyfriends, and I hate how men look at her and all they see is a girl they believe they can mount. They can’t. She’s out of their fucking league, and yet, she entertains them, too nice not to.

It pisses me off.

“There’s a party inside, you know,” I tell her roughly, “and it’s for you.” I walk across the concrete floor to reach her side.

“I know,” she mumbles and then spits the cap out. “Rose and Lily shut the door on me when I tried to go to the bathroom with them. And Connor and Lo looked like they wanted to talk about something private too, so I figured I’d let them discuss what they needed to.”

I frown. “Why would your sisters do that?”

“Lily is five years older than me and Rose is seven,” she says with a shrug. “I’m used to being left out. It’s the younger child syndrome.” She sits up and hands me the map.

I scan it quickly.

“It’s for your road trip to California,” she explains. “I marked some places that are supposed to be cool.”

“You also drew a fucking smiley face over North Dakota.”

“That’s because North Dakota is the happiest state. Everyone knows that.” She grins, brightness in her eyes that I haven’t seen in a while. It’s gorgeous beyond fucking words. But at night, that light starts to slowly wane. It’s like Daisy Calloway is powered by the sun.

“Says who?” I ask, folding the map and tucking it into my back pocket.

“I read it somewhere,” she says. “I’ve forgotten the source, but I’m sure it was credible.”

“Yeah, says the girl who reads her horoscope every day.”

She mock gasps. “How did you know that? Have you been reading my diary?”

“No, I’ve just been sleeping in your bed.”

“I thought that was some other guy,” she says.

I scrutinize her position on the bike, her legs on either side of the seat, clutched tightly, still backwards. I’ve ridden on the same motorcycle with her before. She does this thing where she rests her hands on my thighs instead of wrapping them around my chest. I always have to grab her wrist when she purposefully nears my cock.

She likes to tease, to see how far she can push me, and I’ve never had a girl play with me like that, with confidence that radiates. It drives me fucking nuts, and I find myself wanting to be around her even more, seeking those give-and-take moments and her fucking joy.