“It’s nothing.” Ayden’s lips expand into an amused smile. It’s been a while since I’ve seen that smile, so even though I have no idea what’s causing it, I smile, too.
“Tell me what’s so funny.” I prod his side with my elbow. “Or else I’ll tickle you until you pee your pants.”
His muscles spasm, and I worry that I’ve crossed a line again.
“I’d like to see you try.” He flashes me a genuine smile, and I relax.
“I accept that challenge.” I poke him in the ribs.
“Lyric,” he chuckles, wrapping his arm around his midsection for protection. “I can’t tell you. Kale would get pissed off at me.”
“I wouldn’t tell him that you told me. Jeez, who do you think I am? Maggie?”
As if she senses us talking about her, Maggie suddenly appears in front of us with her hands on her hips and determination in her eyes.
“The date for my New Year’s Eve party has been changed,” she says to me as Ayden and I slam to a halt in front of her. Then she grins in Ayden’s direction and not so discreetly pushes her chest out. I love the girl to death, but she really needs to stop drawing guys in with her breasts. “It’s going to be December thirtieth.”
“How can you have a New Year’s Eve party that’s not on December thirty-first?” Ayden’s smile fades. He’s unfriendly and cold to a lot of people, except me. For some reason, I’ve always been good at bringing out his inner sunshine. “It makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense.” She tucks her elbows inward to push her cleavage even higher. “A party’s a party, right?”
Ayden shrugs. “I guess. But technically your party is a New Year’s Eve Eve party.”
“Clever.” Maggie smiles then her gaze flicks to me, as if seeking some sort of confirmation that I’m okay with her trying to show Ayden her goodies. I’m not okay with it. At all. But I’m not about to get angry with her since I haven’t been that honest with what’s been going on with Ayden and me.
She searches my eyes then her posture relaxes and her cleavage sinks back into her shirt. “But, as clever as that is, I’m still calling it my New Year’s Eve party.” She points a finger between the two of us. “A party that you two better show up to.”
She reels around and shimmies her butt down the hallway, drawing in a lot of the male population around her. She instantly zeroes in on her next target, the varsity quarterback. Rolling her shoulders back, she approaches him with what she calls her “vixen swagger walk.”
“Man, she knows how to work those bad boys, doesn’t she?” I mutter, peeking down at my own breasts.
I’m barely a B cup, not that I care. Big breasts aren’t going to get me what I want in life, but I have wondered what it would be like to overly fill out my shirts.
“Work what?” Ayden glances confusedly at me.
I point back and forth between my breasts. “These bad boys.”
Even after being around my constant unfiltered mouth, Ayden still blinks in shock.
“Trust me, you could work yours, too, and get way more attention than she does.” His attention drops to my chest fleetingly then he looks away as his skin turns bright red.
My own skin warms as I recollect when he reached up my shirt and brushed his fingers across my nipple. The torrid sensations I felt that night were like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.
I wish you would do that again.
Touch me like that
In my car,
In my room,
In my bed.
Touch me, touch me everywhere.
Instead of touching, Ayden and I silently head down the hallway with the buzzing of voices flowing around us. His palm dampens in mine or maybe mine does in his . . . It’s hard to tell. We’re tense, sexually frustrated as Maggie would put it.
“I’ll tell you what I know about Kale,” he unexpectedly sputters, breaking the tension between us. “But only on one condition.” He releases my hand to push the door open and moves aside to let me through.
“Okay, what’s the condition?” I step outside into the cool winter air, and goose bumps sprout across my skin.
Ayden lets go of the door then promptly returns his hand to mine, as if the ten second break from our flesh touching nearly drove him to a panic attack. My body, although cold, warms inside.
“That you never, ever repeat to Kale what I’m about to tell you,” Ayden says as we start down the sidewalk and through the people eating lunch around the front area of the school.
“Okay . . .” I stare up at him, squinting against the sunlight peeking through the cracks in the tree branches above our heads. “You’ve got me worried.”
“It’s not anything to worry about.” He grows quiet, spacing off as we hike across the freshly cut grass toward the parking lot. “But it’s private enough that I need you to pinkie swear on it.”
My lips part in mock shock, and I cover my mouth with my hand. “Ayden Gregory, don’t you trust me?”
He stares up at the sky, stifling a smile. Eventually, his amusement gets the better of him, and he ends up grinning from ear to ear. He stops in the middle of the grass and raises his free hand with his pinkie hitched.
“Wow, where’s the trust, Shy Boy?” I give an exaggerated stomp of my foot then link my pinkie with his. “I promise that whatever you tell me will stay between us. But, just so you know, that’s always the case.”
“I know; I just need to make sure, for Kale’s sake.” He tightens his hold on my pinkie when I try to pull away. “Just like I need you to promise you’ll go easy on him.”
“Okay, I promise, even though I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
Satisfied, he frees my finger, and we start walking again.
“I think Kale might have a crush on you.” He glances at me from the corner of his eye. “I’ve actually thought it for a while.”
“No way.” I wave him off. “Kale’s the kind of guy who will get a crush on someone equally as adorably nerdy as him. Someone who’s in love with comic books and wears capes on non-Halloween days.”
“Clearly, you don’t understand how a guy’s mind works.”
“Hey, I do, too,” I say, this time genuinely offended. “I’m totally running on the same brain waves.” Ayden’s brows elevate questioningly, and I playfully swat his arm. “You seriously just lost cool points for that move.”
He shrugs, unbothered. “Sorry, but I’m glad you don’t run on the same brain waves as me. It would be weird.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” I pause, contemplating what he said. “He really has a crush on me?”
“It’s just a guess, but as a guy who’s had crushes on girls before, I’m guessing that his awkward silence thing he does whenever he’s around you means that he likes you.”
I’ve known Kale since Lila and Ethan adopted him a few years ago. He’s like a little brother to me, which makes the situation kind of weird.
“You get awkwardly quiet around every girl we cross paths with,” I point out to Ayden after we climb into Lila’s BMW. “Which, by your theory, would mean you have a crush on all of them, including Maggie.”
“Yeah, but I’m a freak of nature.” He turns the key in the ignition, and the engine grumbles to life.
“So am I. I make love declarations about every guy I cross paths with.”
He shoves the shifter into reverse. “You haven’t done that in a while.”
I draw the seatbelt over my shoulder and strap myself in. “Ever since William.” And since you kissed me.
He rotates in his seat to glance behind him, but when our gazes collide, he pauses.
“Have you seen him again?” he asks with hesitancy.
I shake my head. “Not since that last time. What about you?”
“I saw him in gym. He didn’t say anything to me, but he did try to hit me in the face with a ball during dodge ball.”
“What a dick,” I grumble. “I’m so sorry for bringing you into this drama.”
<
br /> “It’s just a ball, nothing like a fist. And you didn’t bring me into the drama. I chose to walk in it because I care about you.” A faint smile rises at his lips, one that warms me from my head to my toes. “Did you know his nose is crooked now?”
I perk up. “Really?”
He nods, his eyes burning fiercely. “I wish I would have broken more, though.”
“The nose is good.” I sketch my fingertip down the brim of Ayden’s nose. “You did well, Shy Boy.”
We exchange a meaningful moment, and then he backs the car out of the parking spot and steers toward the road.
“So, are you going to tell me what happened this morning?” I ask as he drives down the road lined with fast food places and restaurants.
“Yeah . . . Let’s go pick up some lunch and park up near the bridge.” He flips on his blinker to make a turn. “I want to be able to talk to you privately about some stuff before we head to town, anyway.”
“Head to town now?” I ask, and he nods. “What about class?”
We only have a thirty-minute lunch break, and we wasted ten minutes getting to the car. Driving to the city limits of San Diego takes about twenty minutes, give or take a half of an hour for traffic.
“We’re skipping the rest of school.”
My nerves bubble inside me. What the heck is going on? “Why?”
“Because . . .” He nibbles on his bottom lip, mulling over something. “We’re . . . We’re taking a self-defense class, instead.”
“Why?”
“Because my parents and yours want us to be safe, to make sure we can protect ourselves if we need to.”
I’m not sure what to make of that.
Protect us from what exactly?
Five hours earlier . . .
THE VISIT WITH THE POLICE turns out to be exactly what I was dreading. To move the case forward, they want me to try a few sessions with an amnesia therapy specialist.
“If it turns out to be too much for him or shows no signs of working within the first few sessions, then we’d like to try a few more aggressive methods,” a detective who goes by the name Rannali explains. “I know this might seem a little extreme, but—”
“A little extreme,” Lila cuts him off, her tone razor sharp. “You’re showing no sympathy for Ayden, who’s been through enough already and just lost his brother.”
“Sympathy isn’t my priority,” he replies straightforwardly—he has been that way the entire visit, “solving this case is a priority. We truly believe that if Ayden can remember those days he spent in the house, he could help us identify some of the suspects.”
“But I thought you weren’t positive it was the same people,” Lila points out. “That maybe he was just in the same area by coincidence. You said a lot of homeless people migrated to that area because the vacant homes were good shelter.”
“Right now, tracking down those people is the best lead we’ve got,” he responds vaguely, appearing mildly annoyed by Lila’s excessive questioning. “And right now, your son is the last known person alive who’s seen what these people look like. It’s becoming a priority that he moves forward in his therapy. I know some therapists who come highly recommended for these types of things.”
Lila’s expression simmered with rage. “You don’t need to be so coldhearted about it. You’re speaking about him like he’s not even a person. Just a tool to help solve your case.”
“Help solve his brother’s murder,” he pressed as he coolly reclined back in his seat. “Do you know anything at all about this group of people?” He reaches for a folder on a filing cabinet then straightens in the chair. Opening the folder on the desk, he removes a paper and places it in front of the Gregorys. “They call themselves soulless mileas or warriors. Worshippers of evil, the list of the horrendous crimes these people have committed goes on and on.”
Soulless mileas.
Soulless mileas.
Soulless mileas.
The name screams repeatedly in my head, but the noise is minimal compared to my accelerating heart rate. In the folder is a letter written in sloppy handwriting that looks an awful lot like my sister’s. When I lean forward to get a better look, the detective hastily shuts the folder. He’s not quite quick enough to stop me from seeing the signature on the bottom, though.
Sadie Stephorson.
My sister.
Detective Rannali avoids eye contact with me, focusing on Lila and Ethan as if I don’t even exist.
“Wait? I don’t understand,” Lila says perplexedly to Detective Rannali. “Why are you mentioning these people?”
“We believe that someone in this group is responsible for the kidnapping of your son three years ago.” He pauses with a brief glance in my direction. “And that they might have played a part in Felix Stephorson’s murder along with several others over the last decade. It would make sense with his body being found close to the home Ayden and his brother and sister were removed from.”
I want to shout at him to tell me why on earth he has a letter from my sister in the folder.
“Why would he have been there, though?” I ask. “Did they kidnap him again?”
“There were no signs of kidnapping,” the detective answers. “But we haven’t ruled out that theory either. We also have a theory that maybe your brother was looking for the people himself.”
My back straightens in the chair as an icy chill slithers up my spine. “Why would he do that? It would make no sense.”
Ignoring me, he drones on until I can’t take it anymore. I need to know what that letter was.
After a while, I lose my cool and snap, “What was that?”
All three of them jolt at the sound of my voice.
“What was what?” The detective feigns being clueless.
I aim a finger at the folder. “That letter in there . . . It looked like it was from my sister.”
“What’s in that file is confidential,” is all he says.
I turn to Lila and Ethan for help, but they only look at me with pity. Then Lila gently pats my knee and directs her attention back to the paper, leaving me to stir in frustration.
Why would they have a note from her? Is it old? New? Did she have something to do with this? Are they using her to help solve the case, too? Or is there more to it?
Ethan clasps Lila’s hand when her eyes start to water. “Honey, relax. Everything’s going to be okay.” He looks at me. “We’ll get through this together.”
I know right then that the police are going to make me try to remember, that I don’t really have a choice in this, even though they say I do. Besides, if I don’t go through with it, I’m willingly making a choice not to help solve my brother’s murder.
My throat thickens and my lungs constrict.
Force the memories up.
Then what?
What will happen?
To you?
To the person they all knew?
To the person you are right now?
He’ll be gone,
as the chains wrap around.
Bind you in.
Make your head spin.
You’ll lose your mind.
Lose control of your life
Again.
I only speak again when we’re back at home.
I unstrap my seatbelt and say, “I saw that letter, and I want to know what it says. Is my sister helping the police, too?”
Lila and Ethan trade a concerned look, and then Lila rotates in her seat.
“Ayden, there’s some stuff we don’t feel like you’re ready to learn just yet,” she explains to me.
I don’t want to get angry, but I feel the emotion scorching under my skin.
Before I can react, though, Mrs. Scott comes barreling around the fence and over to the car. After a lot of hushed talking between her, Lila, and Ethan, they take me into the kitchen and inform me that Lyric told them about the guy staring at our house. Then they inform me that, for safety purposes, I’m going to take Lyric with me to a self-defense
class this afternoon.
Even though I’m upset, I don’t argue. The class will be a good thing. Lyric knowing how to protect herself will be a good thing, especially with guys like William walking around.
Honestly, I can’t wait to pick Lyric up from school. I feel so frustrated and know she will settle me down. Even in the midst of my darkness, through a storm of pain, Lyric brings me calm.
The present . . .
LYRIC SPREADS HER SUNSHINE ACROSS my gloom the moment we reunite. Even when I tell her about the police visit, omitting the letter about my sister for the moment, I feel more at ease. The comfort remains during the entire drive to the self-defense class, but then the reminder of why we’re there to begin with creeps up on me.
“Wait, I’m not dressed for something like this,” Lyric says after I park the car near the back of a small brick building located about fifteen miles south of our quaint neighborhood secluded in the burbs.
I shut off the engine and slide the keys out of the ignition. “You look perfect to me.”
“I’m sure I do, but as for being able to move around, which I’m sure is required in this class, these,” she flips her fingers against her jeans, “aren’t going to cut it.”
“Yeah, your mom figured you’d probably need a change of clothes.” I reach over the console to the backseat and grab a bag. “She sent you this.”
Lyric takes the bag from me and unzips it. “Where did she even get these?” She holds up a pair of black yoga pants and a purple tank top made of some kind of stretchy fabric.
I tap the tag still stuck to the fabric. “She must have just bought them.”
“Wow, they must have been preparing for this.” She tears the tag off, drops it into the bag, and tosses the empty bag onto the backseat. When she turns around, she starts undoing the zipper of her jeans.
“What are you doing?” My panicked gaze darts between her jeans and her face.
“Getting changed.” She unfastens the zipper, lifts her hips, and then tugs down on her pants.
“Right here in the car?” With a lot of effort, I manage to keep my eyes on her face, even though my instincts beg to look downward.
She shrugs, shimmying her hips out of her jeans. “It’s just underwear, no biggie. I’m even wearing my boy-cut panties that cover up more than my swimsuit.”
Unraveling You Series: The Complete Set Page 19
