Kiss the Sky (40 page)

She breaks away abruptly, her breath heavy, but at least
she’s breathing this time. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes for making a scene, for
being a handful, for having a moment of pure panic. “I’m—”

“Human,” I finish for her. I tuck her hair behind her ear.
“You’re human, Rose. We all are.”

I glance at the rest of the room. At
Ryke
,
Lo and Lily who waver in uncomfortable silence. We have things we need to get
to, but I’m not moving until she’s ready.

She holds my arm in a half-tight, half-frightened grip and
nods to me.

“Let’s finish this then,” I say, rising with her, right by
my side.

Where I always want her to be.

[ 36 ]

ROSE CALLOWAY

I may be calmer after Connor’s short talk and
reassuring presence, but no one else looks as mild-mannered.
Ryke
has his arms crossed over his chest, staring between
Lily and Loren who uncommonly start fighting.

She asked him if he drank booze. And the one question
pummeled him backwards. Her words, her feelings towards him, mean more than
whatever
Ryke
, Connor, and I can say or do.

“I just…I don’t understand why you wouldn’t get your pills
to prove it,” she says in a small voice.

“So you’re going to take their side over mine?” he chokes.

“I’m not taking sides.” Her face contorts as she thinks
about everything. “I just want the truth, Lo.”

“I didn’t drink.” He shakes his head repeatedly, but his
eyes redden the longer he does so, telling us a different story. “But I can’t
prove it. I stopped taking
Antabuse
months ago.”

“You did what?!”
Ryke
shouts.

Lo touches his chest in defense. “They were driving me nuts!
I’m paranoid about everything I eat—if it’s accidentally cooked in alcohol. I
picture myself puking from a shitty fucking meal. I can’t do that for the rest
of my goddamn life!”

Before his brother can respond, Lo turns his attention back
to Lily. “You have to believe me,” he says, desperation lacing his voice.

“I do,” she says, no hesitation.

Relief floods his face. He walks to the bed and reaches for
a hug.

But then something strange happens. Lily pushes Loren in the
chest and then she points her finger at him. “But it’s not okay. It’s not.” Her
chin quivers and she tries to gather this shadowy strength that likes to flit
away from her. “You can’t stop taking them just because it drives you nuts. And
it’s not okay that you kept this from me…from
us
…”

They’re both crying now, and it feels intrusive watching
them fight like this.

“My chest is on fire,” I tell Connor. I really want to
leave. But we still have to talk to Lily about the videotape.

He rubs my back and kisses my temple.

It feels good. To have him. In these moments, I can’t
imagine reverting back to being alone. I would feel outnumbered and unspun.

Loren holds my sister in his arms. Or maybe she’s holding
him. It’s hard to tell.

“We’re in a fight, just so you know,” she whispers. “I’ll
sleep in Daisy’s bedroom.”

His face twists in hurt now. “You haven’t had sex in three
days. I was going to…” He drifts off as Lily shakes her head.

“I don’t care about sex. I care about you being healthy and not
drinking.”

I’m grinning. I can’t stop it. It’s fucking happening. My
chest lifts. Doused with water. Those words
I
don’t care about sex
have never left that girl’s mouth.

Loren looks just as surprised, just as in awe as me.

“We have another issue,”
Ryke
interjects.

I glare hatefully. “We don’t have to bring that up now,” I
say. My sister just denounced sex, the compulsive, harmful kind. We should
throw her a party not question her about the alleged bathroom blow job.

Ryke
looks at me like I lost brain
cells and then grabs the camera. “Watch this,” he tells Lily and Loren.

They stand behind the camera as the footage replays, and
Lily’s cheeks redden the further along. When we all hear her say “Can I give
you a blow job?” her eyes bug, and her hand shoots to the air like she’s ready
to answer a question in class.

“I was having a bad day,” she defends.

“
Shhh
,” Loren hisses, his eyes
narrowed at the camera. The moaning and groaning begin and Lily suddenly shares
his confusion. “What is this?” Lo asks. “Is this some kind of fucked up joke?”

“You tell us,”
Ryke
refutes.
“You’re fucking in a public bathroom in the middle of the afternoon.”

“
Nooo
,”
Loren says the word slowly. “We didn’t fuck in the bathroom. We don’t fuck
anywhere but our bedroom. Someone must have tampered with the video.”

“So you didn’t ask to give Loren a blow job?” I question my
sister.

Her rash-like flush spreads to her neck and arms. “I did do
that…” she mutters.

“And then I told her no,” Loren adds. I don’t know what to
believe. I want to put faith in them, but the evidence is convincing. How does
a person even edit a video on the actual camera? It’s not as if we’re watching
the footage from a computer.

“What were you actually doing for thirty minutes in the
bathroom?” Connor asks casually. His questions always seem less like an
interrogation and more like a conversation.

Ryke
and I fail on that front.

“I was giving Lily a pep talk,” Lo explains.

“I needed one,” she agrees. Her eyes flicker to his in
gratitude, but then she must remember her earlier declaration because she takes
a step to the side to put distance between them. “We’re still in a fight.”

Loren’s throat bobs at her words. “I’m going to start taking
Antabuse
again, Lil,” he whispers.

“Good,” she says with a nod. Then she looks to
Ryke
. “Fast-forward to the end. When we come out of the
bathroom, I know I’ll look disappointed.”

Ryke
presses a button and the
footage speeds up, when he hits play, we all wait in anticipation, as if this
is the only piece of evidence we have left.

On screen, Lily and Lo exit the bathroom, and before anyone
says a thing, Lily goes, “Ah-ha!” She points to the footage. “I look
so
upset.”

I frown and bend closer to the screen. She needs her eyesight
checked. I put my hands on my hips as I lean further. Really, what is she
looking at? All I see is Lily’s flushed face and her hand in
Lo’s
. Their demeanor is natural, almost content.

“That’s you disappointed?”
Ryke
says in disbelief. “You’re sweating and your face is red.”

“It was hot in the bathroom,” Lily defends.

“It was,” Loren agrees but his voice has changed. Where Lily
is frantic, Lo looks resolute as if he’s accepted the fact that this looks bad
for them.

“Are they going to air this?” Lily wonders.

“Probably,” Connor says, “but it helps promote your wedding.
The bad edit would be you slipping into the bathroom with another guy.”

“We’re just concerned about your health,” I say.

“I didn’t have sex, Rose,” Lily tells me with pleading eyes.
“I’m doing better. I mean, I shouldn’t have asked Lo that...that question. But
besides that, I’m doing better.”

I have to trust her. I know this.

But if Lily didn’t blow her boyfriend in a public restroom
and if Loren didn’t drink, then there’s only one other guilty party.

Production.

Scott Van Wright.

I’m going to kill him.

[ 37 ]

CONNOR COBALT

I convinced everyone to keep their
production-tampering suspicions to themselves. If we give production a
reaction, they win. They all agreed after a few hours, but Rose,
Ryke
, and Loren have short fuses. It’s only a matter of
time until one of them detonates.

Five days later and I have other obligations to attend to.
Like an apocalyptic dinner with my mother and my girlfriend.

I wait for Rose in my limo that hugs the curb. The townhouse
is lit by bulbs in the dining room, flickering through the windows. Our home is
also guarded by her father’s hired security. I’m about to call her to see
what’s taking so long. I doubt she’d want to be late the first time meeting my
mother. If I could, I’d drive this limo past the restaurant and into a hotel or
Rose’s office. Anywhere to avoid the chaos of the night.

Rose has expressed about twelve times in the past three
hours that she wants to impress my mother. The confession nearly had me
laughing. Rose Calloway wants to
impress
someone, a feat she has never been a hundred-percent successful in. But for
some reason, I feel like if she fails this time, I’m partially to blame.
Katarina is
my
mother after all.

My phone pings before I call her.

Daisy, Lily, me
–
Rose

My eyes narrow at the list. We started playing
Fuck, Marry, Kill
again on the plane.
And when I gave her three inanimate objects, she almost whipped out her pepper
spray and used the whole canister on me.

She’s been simmering. Waiting for a chance to get me back.

She definitely has.

I cringe as I try to find a suitable answer without
offending anyone.

And then I press send.

[ 38 ]

ROSE CALLOWAY

I’d fuck,
marry, and kill you
. – Connor

Oh. He is not getting out of this one that easily. He made
me admit to fucking a tree, killing an orange and marrying a book. He is not
cheating.
I
didn’t.

With the phone in one hand, I struggle to text him back and
snap my high heels at my ankles. My old silver peep-toes betrayed me today. The
heel broke when I walked down the stairs, so I’ve had to hurry for an
alternative, which happen to be black heels with too many buckles.
 

“LILY!” I shout.

After a long pause, she says. “I’M NOT COMING OUT!”

I purse my lips. I forgot. Loren and Lily have been
isolating themselves in their rooms for three days and counting. They’re
waiting for Scott to apologize for the
Magic
Mike
ploy and generally every vile comment he’s made to Lily. I think what
finally tipped the boat was when he told her to
go suck a cock
with Lo right there. Just to start a fight.

Instead of attacking Scott, they’re both hoarded in their
rooms, outsmarting him. He’s not getting
any
footage with the couple unless they have to sneak to the bathroom. I don’t
know how they’re eating because neither I nor
Ryke
will
feed into this crazy plot. Being isolated from us is a way to fester their
addictions. I don’t like it, but I can’t coax them out without letting Scott
win.

I
do
have a
suspicion that both Daisy and Connor have been supplying them with breakfast
essentials and microwaved meals. I caught Daisy with three empty bowls of
cereal in her hands. And since her photo shoot for Marco Jeans is quickly
approaching, I highly doubt she’s eating that much.

And I can’t call Daisy down here either. She’s not at the
townhouse. I’ve seen her for maybe three hours total in the past two weeks.
That’s how busy she’s been with school and modeling. I asked the guards when
she got in last night and they said three a.m.—riding home from New York. The
perks of being wealthy: we have a family driver that each of us can use if we
want, so no one has to worry about her sleeping or drinking at the wheel. But
it hardly helps diminish the other concerns I have for my little sister.

Savannah points her camera at me, and she gives me a look
like she wishes she could help me with my heels. I asked all of the cameramen
to kindly stay behind while Connor and I go see his mother, who does not want
to be filmed. They’ve all graciously accepted, and Connor had a guard sweep the
limo to make sure there weren’t any hidden cameras.

Besides Savannah, the only one in the living room is
Ryke
. He drinks a bottle of water, his hands chalky from
climbing some mountain.

I’m not joking.

He does it for fun. No ropes. No harness. He’s as crazy as
my little sister.

“
Ryke
,” I say with the fakest
girly voice I can muster. “Can you please come help me?” I feel like I just
choked on a steak bone.

He nods, and I forget that he’s not his brother. He’s not
going to put up a fight with me. Thank God. I don’t have time for that. He
kneels at my feet, and before he touches my heels, I flinch back.

“What?” he asks roughly.

“Your hands, they’re dirty.” I crinkle my nose.

He glares as he wipes the chalk residue on the burgundy rug.

I cringe even more. My poor rug. But if I had to choose
between my rug and my heels, I’m going to choose the heels every damn time.

He raises his hands to show that they’re
slightly
clean. Fine. It’ll have to do.
I stick out my feet again, and he buckles them at the ankles while I text
Connor.

I don’t fuck cheaters.
Send.

That should get him to speak.

My phone buzzes, but the new text isn’t from him.

2 months and 13 days
–
Mom

“Who died?”
Ryke
asks.

I stare down at him with furrowed brows.

“You look upset,” he clarifies, fumbling with the last
buckle.

“Worry about my heels,” I snap.

He shakes his head and lets out a short, irritated laugh
before standing. “Finished, your highness.”

I smooth my dress as I head to the door. “Thank you.” See, I
do have manners. “Try not to dirty the couch while I’m gone.” Translation:
Go take a shower.