Hothouse Flower

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RYKE MEADOWS

Movie night at Rose’s Princeton house has already turned into a fucking fight. Gravity stays paused on the flat screen with Sandra Bullock suspended in space. Besides the furniture, the TV is the only thing left standing in the living room. All the books are packed away and the pictures on the walls have been taken down and rolled in bubble wrap.

Lo and Rose have been fighting for the past ten minutes, and unfortunately Lo’s go-to move is to throw popcorn at her. She swats away another flying kernel.

“I’m trying to talk to you civilly,” Rose combats. “Stop pelting me with your popcorn.”

“I will when you start fucking listening to me.” He throws another kernel at her, and it lands on her lap.

Connor has to grab Rose around the waist, since she looks ready to spring off the couch.

“Careful, Rose, you’re pregnant. You’re not going to be able to take out your claws for seven more months,” Lo tells her in his edged voice.

“Don’t be an ass,” I cut in. I hold Daisy on my lap as we sit in the big chair facing the TV. She stays quiet, always the spectator of fights, never really in them. It’s not a coincidence. She hates this shit and tries to avoid inserting herself into these situations. I’m not as nice.

Lo and Rose continue to bicker, and I drift out of the argument as I watch Daisy delete a text message from her mom. My stomach caves.

“Hey,” I whisper, and her big green eyes meet mine. “Don’t make my fucking mistakes, okay?” I tuck a strand of pink hair behind her ear. I’m the cynical one who holds grudges. She’s the lighthearted girl who forgives and opens her arms to strangers. I don’t want her to change because of this.

“She called the cops on you, Ryke,” she murmurs. “It’s not okay.”

“I’m already fucking over it,” I say. My publicists have been blasting the media, denying the allegation, and reminding people that Greg Calloway confirmed to People that our relationship started after Daisy turned eighteen. It was his way of apologizing for his wife’s rash, emotional decision.

But the pictures of me going to jail—the headlines that circulated through every major magazine—those won’t ever disappear. Not even with a public statement. The backlash—I felt it, even if I don’t read tabloids. The nasty stares at the gym, the glares at the fucking grocery store. Time magazine pulled that issue of us off the racks.

There is a whole lot of fucking hate towards me. And a lot towards Daisy too, for sticking by my side. I don’t care what anyone thinks except the people in this room and our families. But the more people attack “Raisy”—as the press has called us—the more she blames her mom.

The more her hate stirs.

“How?” she asks. “I watch you get handcuffed, all because of her.”

“It was her way of protecting you and saying fuck you to me. That’s it, Dais. She loves you, you know that.” I pause. “And you love her.”

Daisy stares at her cellphone with a watery gaze. I hug her close and kiss her head. Our mother problems have always been similar; mine are just a few more years down the road from hers. I took a wrong turn, and I don’t want her to follow me this time.

I tilt her chin up, and she says, “I’ll think about what you said.”

“Okay,” I nod. My voice lowers even more. “Are you going to talk to your sisters about your sleeping issues?”

Her face falls. “After this?” This past week, she’s been more open to the idea of sharing all the details of what happened in the past, even the most painful one.

“Yeah.” I give her a look, to make sure she knows what I mean.

Her shoulders slacken a little and she nods. “Okay, after this.”

Lo opens his mouth to speak again, but Connor interrupts, “We’re offering a solution. It’s nothing to be upset about.”

Lo presses his hands to his chest. “I’m not going to live with you. You’ve been a great roommate for these past two years, but you’re having a baby, man.” He shakes his head. “You don’t need to be dealing with our shit on top of that.”

“You’re not ready,” Rose butts in like she did before. “You relapsed only a few months ago—”

“I’m never going to be ready, Rose!” Lo yells. “If you’re waiting for me to be cured, then you might as well give up now. This is going to last forever. Not a month. Not a few years. I’m an addict. I could very well stay sober for ten years and relapse again. You gotta accept that.”

Her lips draw into a thin line. “And what about Lily?”

“I can take of her like I always have,” Lo snaps.

“Oh, you mean when you spent years letting her have sex with different men every night,” Rose refutes. For fuck’s sake—she has less of a filter now that she’s pregnant. She just says whatever’s on her fucking mind.

Lo scowls, so coldly that I’m surprised Rose doesn’t shrivel back. I’m ready for him to tear her apart with something completely nasty. But then he says, “That’s your pregnancy pass for the fucking night. Whoever is growing in your belly is a demon. Straight up making you evil.”

Rose narrows her eyes, ignoring the slight to get back to the topic at hand. “I don’t care about the baby. I want Lily to live with us, and if she wants to, then you shouldn’t be fighting me on it.”

“She doesn’t.”

“Have you asked her?”

“Yes!”

I look to the couch beside Lo, where Lily used to sit. But she went to the bathroom…

I turn my attention to Connor.

He’s checking his watch. The same thought must be crossing his mind. “How long has she been gone?” My voice cuts Lo and Rose’s fight, silencing them.

Lo rotates and notices the bare cushion to his left. “Shit,” he curses and stands up, his eyes wide with worry.

“Twenty minutes. Maybe fifteen,” Connor says, following my movement as I rise to my feet.

Lo doesn’t even hesitate.

He just runs.