Spotlight & Giveaway: Long Way Down by Krista and Becca Ritchie

Today, HJ is pleased to share with you Krista and Becca Ritchie’s new release: Long Way Down

With a seven-year age difference, Ryke Meadows and Daisy Calloway have faced an uphill battle in the eyes of the world and their families.

Known as the most adventurous, fast-paced couple, their next step has always been elusive to the rabid media.

Behind the scenes, heartbreaking troubles continue to test Ryke and Daisy’s resilience and shape their future together.

They promise:
To never slow down.
To never compromise who they are.
To never abandon their love for each other.

But preserving their happiness also means taking more risks. As a professional free-solo climber, Ryke is no stranger to danger, but his next step with Daisy wagers more than just his health. With their lives on the line, Ryke and Daisy head towards the vast, wild unknown.

Enjoy an exclusive excerpt from Long Way Down 

One

Ryke Meadows

I’ve scaled mountains with my bare hands, no harness or rope. I’ve sped down freeways at over a hundred miles per hour. I once dove off a forty-foot cliff, swam with sharks, jumped out of a fucking plane, whitewater rafted class five rapids, ran an ultramarathon in a remote Chilean desert, and some months ago, I underwent transplant surgery.

All of those moments combined are easy compared to what’s happening now. I rock on the balls of my feet-for fuck’s sake, I can’t remember the last time I rocked on my feet.

I stop and run my hand through my hair for the millionth time. I scan the backyard as the sun falls behind spruce trees. The pool is empty, only water wings floating on the surface. Water wings-I’m used to seeing these things everywhere.

It happens when I’m living with my brother, his wife, and their one-year-old baby. Though lately, seeing high chairs, diapers, stuffed toys, and rattles sends my mind into a fucking tailspin. I exhale and wipe my forehead with the end of my gray T-shirt, restraining the urge to jump in the pool and cool down from the August heat.

The glass door opens, and I look over my shoulder. My little brother and Connor stroll through with these really fucking annoying smiles. My blood pumps harder in my veins.

“Shut the fuck up,” I tell them.

Connor’s grin pulls wider, stretched so far that I think it should tear his face apart. It doesn’t. He’s still good-looking. Fuck him. And he says, “Shutting up would require talking.”

“You are now.” I have my hands on my head. I’m really close to pacing, and I don’t pace either. Rose paces. Loren paces. Lily sometimes even fucking paces.

I don’t pace . . . do I?

I’m losing my mind.

Lo places a hand on Connor’s shoulder, cutting in before he responds, “Let’s not make this into a lecture. He already looks like shit.”

Fucking A.

“Should I shave?” I ask, running a hand down my jaw. I usually trim more, especially in the summer, but I’ve kept the scruffy, I’ve been outdoors look since March.

“You could start with that,” Connor says, his shit-eating grin blinding me. He stuffs his fists into his khaki shorts. “The hair needs some work too.” His blue eyes flit to my unkempt brown hair, the thick strands just doing their natural fucking thing.

When I don’t argue with Connor but instead rake another hand through my hair-attempting to flatten the strands-his composure shifts.

He arches a brow. “You look like yourself. Just leave it alone.”

“So you’re saying I always look like shit?” I flatten the longer pieces over my forehead. I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing.

“Yes,” he says easily. “And stop touching it.”

Lo scrunches his face at the bangs I just created. “Who are you? And where have you taken my brother?”

I don’t have a fucking answer.

Connor approaches me, confidence in every deliberate step. When he’s inches away, eye level with me, I piece together his plan.

He’s still grinning as he says, “Don’t bite me.”

“Don’t give me a fucking reason to.”

Without hesitating, he starts fixing my hair. I cross my arms over my chest. The last time I was this close to Connor Cobalt, I punched him in the face. It was as complicated back then as this is now. I don’t hate the guy, but never in a million fucked-up years did I think I’d let him play with my hair.

“Jesus,” Lo says, laughing. “Please let me record this.”

“If you want a fist to your face,” I mutter.

Connor is practically gloating. I’m seconds from shoving his chest, but he wouldn’t purposefully make me look worse-not today. Not for this. We may not always seem like friends, but we are. We’re probably better friends than most.

And why do I even care this much about hair?

Loren cocks his head at me, his arrowhead necklace against his black V-neck shirt. “I’m your brother,” he says dryly. “You wouldn’t hit me.” He flashes a sardonic smile. His lightheartedness lives somewhere beneath all of that edge.

And yeah, I have hit him. In the dead heat. In the Utah desert. Until red dust covered us both in exhaustion and fury. All that’s in the past, along with any bad blood between us.

He just says shit to say shit.

Connor touches the longer hair by my forehead, and I push him off now. He barely sways. Instead he purposefully takes a single step back.

“Just leave it,” I tell him. Then I comb my hand through my hair without realizing. Fucking fantastic.

Connor arches another brow at me. “You’re a lost cause. I don’t know why I even try.”

I flip him off and just do my natural hair thing. Messy. Disheveled. No system or order. I know I look more like myself, but this day has me disoriented, more than I’ve ever fucking been.

With a dissatisfied once-over, Connor gestures to my clothes: jeans, a plain gray tee and a waterproof watch. “Your attire needs work.”

“I’m not going on a date with you, Cobalt.”

“Of course you’re not. I have high standards. Ones that you can’t meet.”

I shake my head at him a couple times, and then I jump a little on my feet, shake out my hands, and crack my knuckles. I just struggle with letting things out, verbally, and if I ever need to do it right, I’d want to do it today.

“You need a drink?” Lo sinks down onto a patio chair, his forearms resting on his kneecaps. “It’d help those nerves.”

I meet his amber eyes, and he gives me another half smile to show that he’s kidding. I never find the humor in these jokes, and maybe that’s why he keeps it up. Anyway, I’ve grown used to this fucking nonchalant offer of alcohol, and I’ve never seen him as healthy as he’s been in the past year.

If we flashed back to Paris at that bar, I think the Loren Hale today would shake himself for taking a drink and giving me one. In fact, I know he would.

If that’s not strength, then I don’t fucking know what is.

“Is that a yes?” Lo banters.

“Fuck off.”

Connor chimes in, “Fifty-two ‘fucks’ in twenty minutes. Just so you know how redundant your vocabulary is.”

My phone vibrates, saving me from talking to Connor. I slide my cell out of my pocket and check the text.

Lunch tomorrow?-Dad

My stomach overturns, and I quickly text back: no.

I let out a tense breath. “This is a fucking sign.” I hold up the phone to show Connor and Lo the message. “He texts right now? It’s not a good time-”

“Since when do you buy into superstition?” Connor asks me in one of his annoyingly calm voices.

“Yeah, you sound like Rose.” Lo doesn’t even focus on the text. His eyes are right on me, and I see more sincerity in them. Something that says, don’t be afraid.

I’m afraid of watching the people I love get hurt. I’m afraid of hurting the people I love. Sometimes I feel like no matter what I do, I’m going to fall into one of the two.

I end up shrugging and then pointing at both of them. “You know what? I’m going inside. You two can fucking stay out here.”

I step over Moffy’s plastic Batman car, a toy that Lo complained about for a good week before conceding. Lo’s love for Marvel was finally trumped by his son’s love for a DC toy.

I hear Lo speaking loudly as I slide open the door. “You think we hurt his feelings?” Asshole. Even as I think it, I nearly smile. I love my little brother. Truth is, I thought we’d kill each other living together, but it’s brought us even closer in the past year and a half. He’s also a lot less aggravating to live with than Connor Cobalt.

I wasn’t that upset to see Connor move down the street. It mostly sucks in early mornings when I’m in the gym. Connor used to spot me since Lo doesn’t wake up that early.

Do I miss him nagging me for information about Daisy’s therapy sessions? No. Do I miss him quizzing me about literature and languages? No. Do I miss his constant need to make everything a fucking cock show? Absolutely fucking not.

But yeah . . . sometimes I miss that motherfucker.

Not today though.

I shut the sliding door. The sun has already disappeared outside.

Excerpt. ©Krista and Becca Ritchie. Posted by arrangement with the publisher. All rights reserved.
 
 

Giveaway: 1 finished book of LONG WAY DOWN by Krista and Becca Ritchie to a US resident

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Meet the Author:

Krista and Becca Ritchie are New York Times and USA Today bestselling authors and identical twins—one a science nerd, the other a comic book geek—but with their shared passion for writing, they combined their mental powers as kids and have never stopped telling stories. They love superheroes, flawed characters, and soul mate love.

https://bookshop.org/p/books/long-way-down-krista-ritchie/7431858?ean=9780593639658