My muscles ravel into knots as I skim the people around the quad and the parking lot. “What if it is her?”
“It’s going to be okay.” He places a shaky hand on my knee. “But we need to wait here until the officer comes back.”
I gulp. “How long do you think it’ll take him to check everything out?”
He shrugs, looking out the window. “That all depends on if he can find the woman or not.” His jaw tightens as he shakes his head in dismay. “Lyric, I’m so sorry for putting you through this.”
“Don’t start,” I warn. “You’re not putting me through anything. It’s not your fault those people are insane and won’t leave you alone.”
“It’s kind of my fault, though, if it’s my father who’s in charge of their group,” he utters quietly.
I reach over and set a hand on his scruffy cheek. “None of this is your fault. Trust me. Kids aren’t responsible for the bad stuff our parents do. If that were the case, then I’d be responsible for every time my mom gets a speeding ticket when she decides she’s going to race some dude in a sports car. Or when my dad secretly smokes in his office.”
“Smoking and speeding tickets aren’t really the same as kidnapping and murder.”
“Ay.” My heart is breaking for him. “You’re the sweetest guy I’ve ever met in my entire life. You’d do anything for the people you love, so trust me when I say you’re in no way responsible for anything that your father does. You need to stop being so hard on yourself.”
He blows out a breath. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right.” And a little shocked that I convinced him. “I’m always right, even when I’m wrong.”
A half smile surfaces. “There you go again. Making up your own rules.”
I open my mouth to keep going, but the officer knocks on the window, scaring the bejesus out of me. Ayden jumps too and quickly rolls down the window.
“It’s all clear,” the officer, who’s probably in his mid-twenties, says as he leans down and looks inside the car.
“You found the woman in the red rain coat, then?” Ayden asks, still tense.
“I tracked her into the school,” he says, nodding. “She’s actually the art teacher, Miss Merrybellton, or something like that.”
“And she was wearing a raincoat?” Ayden gapes at the officer in disbelief.
“I’m actually not surprised,” I tell Ayden. “Miss Merrybellton can be a little,” I circle my finger around my temple, “off her rocker sometimes. She’s always trying all these new styles. Today must be inappropriate weather attire day.”
“Well thanks for checking on it,” Ayden says to the officer, his eyes still wide with fear and worry.
“That’s what I’m here for. And it’s good you told me. We need to check out all suspicious activity,” the officer replies then steps back. “Now you should probably head home.”
Ayden rolls up the window, pushes the shifter into reverse, and backs out of the parking space.
He’s silent for most of the drive, which instantly puts me into worry mode. But every time I strike up a conversation, he gives me one or two word responses that lead to nowhere, and I worry he might be regressing.
My thoughts drift to my life before Ayden. I’ve always been a happy, positive person who’s had a good life. My mom and dad have been the rock stars of parents, always showing me unconditional love. I’ve always been able to chase my dreams. I’ve always had a roof over my head. But even with everything, I still felt something was missing. That something was Ayden.
I didn’t know it back then. Didn’t realize it when we first met. It took me time to get there—took us both time. And now that I have it, there’s no way I’m going to lose it.
When we get home, Ayden parks the car in front of the garage then twists in his seat to face me. “We have to leave in a half an hour.” He chews on his bottom lip as he glances at the door of his house. “I’m not sure what to tell Lila since I normally don’t go to appointments on Monday’s.”
“Just tell her you’re stressed and need to talk to someone,” I suggest, unbuckling my seatbelt.
“But how do I explain why you’re coming with me? And why we’re going to a doctor’s office instead of the normal therapy office building.”
My jaw just about smacks the floor. “We’re going to a doctor’s office?”
He slips the keys out of the ignition and opens the door. “It’s just a precautionary measure in case something unexpected happens.”
“I read a little about this treatment, and from what the articles said, you’ll be put under sedation. Is that true?”
“I’ll be under but I’ll still be able to talk, at least from what I understand. But I think I’ll be really out of it.” When he sees the panic in my eyes, he cups my face between his hands. “Everything’s going to be okay. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”
I swallow the lump wedged in my throat. The last thing he needs to be doing is worrying about me. I need to chill on the freaking out. “I’m okay. It’s just a little scary thinking about what they’re going to do to you.”
He presses his lips together. “Are you sure you’re okay? Because if it’s too much for you, you don’t have to go—”
I put a finger to his lips, shushing him. “I’m going with you. There’s no way you’re talking me out of it.” I lower my hand to my lap. “And just tell Lila I need to spend as much time with you as I can before I leave for the tour.”
“But what about the doctor’s office thing?” He points over his shoulder at the cop car that’s been tailing us since we left school. “Because they’re going to follow us and report where we went the moment we park the damn car in front of the office.”
I peek back at the cop car. “Are you sure you just can’t tell Aunt Lila what we’re doing?” Aunt Lila isn’t really my aunt, just like Uncle Ethan really isn’t my uncle. My family was just so close with the Gregorys from the moment I was born that I started calling them that.
“If I tell her then she’ll never let me go through with it,” he says with heavy remorse. “And I have to do this.”
I try to bring out my sunshine and positivity as I rack my brain for a solution to our problem. “Just tell her you’re taking me to a doctor’s appointment. That I have to get a shot and need you to hold my hand.”
“And what happens when she talks to your mom and finds out that was a lie?” he asks warily.
I shrug. “We’ll face the music when it happens, but right now, let’s just get through this one appointment.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he double checks. “Because everyone’s going to be pissed when they find out we lied.”
“Of course I’m sure.” I wink at him. “I got your back, dude. Always and forever.”
That gets him to smile. I just cross my fingers that his smile will still exist after the therapy session.
An hour later, we’re sitting in a waiting room at a busy doctor’s office waiting for Dr. Gardingdale to arrive so we can get this show on the road. Ayden is about a million times more nervous than when he got his tattoo, which is saying a lot. But he’s not the only one that’s so jittery they can’t sit still. It didn’t help that when we left, Fiona blindsided me as I was getting into the car.
“I know what you’re doing,” she said with her hands on her hips.
I caught Ayden’s gaze from over the roof of the car. “Look, Fiona,” I turned to her and lowered my voice, “you can’t tell anyone, okay? This is really important.”
“I know it is. And I know I can’t say anything to anyone, not when this could set Ayden free,” she said simply. “I just wanted to give you a head’s up that Ayden’s going to need you to be calm for him. That it’s important you don’t freak out, even when things look bad.”
For the second time today my jaw nearly hit the ground.
Her words have been stuck inside my head ever since, playing like a scratched record.
“What
exactly did Fiona say to you in the driveway?” Ayden asks, leaning closer to me and keeping his voice low.
“It wasn’t important.” I pick up a pamphlet that’s on the table to the side of me to busy myself with something since I can’t seem to sit still.
“But she said she wasn’t going to tell Lila and Ethan, right?’” A flush creeps up on his cheeks as his gaze drops to the pamphlet in my hand. Then he starts bouncing his knee up and down as he averts his gaze to the floor.
“No, she said she knew she couldn’t tell anyone, whatever that means.” I look down at the pamphlet to see what’s causing him to blush. I try not to laugh, because out of all things, I grabbed one about safe sex. Seeing an opportunity to alleviate some of the tension, I decide to tease him a little. “It might have some good tips in there.” I nudge his shoulder with mine. “Maybe we should read it.”
He massages the back of his neck, muttering something under his breath before elevating his gaze to me. “You think we should?” The blush is still there, but his voice is surprisingly steady.
His unexpected question catches me off guard and I feel my own cheeks warm, which rarely happens. Usually I have mad skills in the chillax department, but just thinking about having sex with Ayden makes my heart go all glowy crazy in my chest like a cracked-out unicorn.
“I don’t know.” I fiddle with the edge of the pamphlet. “Maybe. The other night things did get a little . . .” I rack my brain for the right word that will sum up what happened Saturday night, but then decide to be funny, because we need funny right now. “Bow chicka bow wow.”
He snorts a laugh. “I guess that’s one way to put it.”
“You’re okay with what happened, right? I mean, I know that was a huge step for you.” I fold and unfold the pamphlet, feeling super fidgety. “I just don’t ever want to push you into doing stuff.”
“Lyric, I swear to God I’m fine.” His expression grows intense, his gaze boring into me. “You’ve never, ever have pushed me into doing anything that I didn’t want to do.” He blows out a frustrated exhale. “You’ve always been so patient with me, even when you shouldn’t have to be.”
I slip my fingers through his. “Ayden, I love you. Being with you is amazing. It’s not about having to do stuff. It’s about wanting to.”
He nods his head up and down, his gaze dropping to the pamphlet in my free hand. “Still, it’s getting easier . . . I mean, with the intimate stuff.”
I lock eyes with him. “How much easier?” My voice is steady, but my heart’s an erratic mess.
He opens his mouth to answer, and dear God, I’m eager to hear what’s about to leave those lips of his, but an older dude wearing a bright-ass orange tie and tan slacks enters the waiting room, and Ayden instantly jumps to his feet.
“You haven’t been waiting too long, have you?” Dr. Gardingdale asks Ayden, tucking his briefcase underneath his arm.
Ayden shakes his head. “Not too long.”
“Good. Good.” Dr. Gardingdale seems nervous, his gaze flicking back and forth between Ayden and me. “It’s nice to see you again, Lyric.”
Ayden reaches back, grabs my hand, and pulls me to his feet. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought her.”
“It’s fine,” he says, waving at us to follow him as he heads toward the door near the front desk. “Ayden talks very highly of you, Lyric. And it might be good that you’re here. You seem to have a calming effect on him.”
My gaze slides to Ayden. “Do you talk about me with him?” I’m not offended. Just curious what he could possibly have to say about me while he’s in therapy.
He lifts his shoulders and shrugs. “You’re a huge part of my life. Of course I talk about you.” He holds the door open for me, looking a little sheepish. “Besides, like he said, you have this crazy calming effect on me, so whenever I get too stressed, I just start talking about you.”
That makes me smile. I stand on my tiptoes, give him a quick kiss, then tuck the pamphlet into the back pocket of my shorts. He totally notices and his cheeks flush a deep red.
“You’re so adorable when you’re embarrassed,” I say, taking his hand as we follow Dr. Gardingdale down the hallway lined with rooms.
“I’m glad you think so,” he replies, his cheeks still pink. “Because I find it really fucking annoying.”
I kiss his cheek just because I can.
When we reach a room at the end of the hallway, Dr. Gardingdale motions us inside, then closes the door. It looks like a normal check-up room; plain white walls that surround a bed, a blood pressure machine, and a couple of chairs.
“We’re going to hook you up to the monitors so we can keep track of your heart rate while you’re out,” Dr. Gardingdale explains as Ayden sits down on the bed. “Dr. Milleperton is also going to be putting in an IV as well so we can inject the sedative.”
“An IV?” I ask in shock. “Is that really necessary?”
“This is an extreme treatment that requires some mild medication,” Dr. Gardingdale says as he sets his briefcase on the counter near the sink. Then he turns to Ayden. “Now, are you positive you want to do this?” he asks. “Because there’s still time to change your mind.”
Ayden lies down, resting his arms on his stomach. “I’m not going to change my mind.”
My heart speeds up, thrashing in my chest.
Tell me what I’m supposed to do
To make this ache go away.
A gnawing warning in my heart,
Begging me to listen.
Soft whispers through my mind.
Tell me a story of where this is heading.
Tell me a story of my life without him.
Dark colors, no light, pure emptiness,
That’s what the whispers promise me.
I’ve never been so confused,
So lost before.
When the doctor comes in and hooks the IV and heart monitor to Ayden, I consider texting Aunt Lila. Consider running out of the room and bailing on the situation because I’m freaking out. But this isn’t about me. This isn’t about how I feel. This is about Ayden.
So, I take his hand, trying to be there for him the only way I can. “I love you,” I whisper. “So much.”
“I love you . . . too . . .” He trails off as he slips into unconsciousness.
“TRY TO KEEP YOUR MIND clear,” Dr. Gardingdale says as my hazy mind bounces back and forth between consciousness and unconsciousness.
“I’ll . . . try . . .” My lips feel so numb, like they’re detached from my face. In fact, my entire body feels like it doesn’t exist.
“Good. Now try to picture the house you were kept in, if you can.” Dr. Gardingdale’s voice sounds like it comes from somewhere nearby, but I can’t tell where he is—where anyone is. “But I don’t want you to push yourself too hard, Ayden. If at any moment you feel like this is too much, just let me know.”
“Okay . . .”
Where’s Lyric? I want to say. I want to see her. Want to make sure she’s okay. She looked so worried the last time I saw her.
But I can’t see a damn thing. Can’t feel anything. I just exist in an ocean of darkness threatening to pull me under the violent waves. I try to fight, try to keep above water, but eventually I succumb and have no choice but to go . . .
Down . . .
Down . . .
Down . . .
Images flash through my mind, memories long forgotten of my brother, my sister, and myself. We’re playing at the park, stealing candy from the gas station, painting the rocks in our yard to look like a rainbow, racing through the grassy field to the side of our home.
Then the memories shift away from my home life. I see myself in school, hanging out with my friends, and the time I walked home with Lacey Marlleron, a girl I had a crush on when I was thirteen. I relive getting into trouble when I was caught shoplifting. I see myself fighting with my mom over wanting to see my father. Fighting with my brother when I stole his skateboard and broke it. Fighting with Sadie o
ver the bowl of cereal.
I see it all . . .
A life lost . . .
I see the fall . . .
That leads me straight to where the darkness all began . . .
And I plummet straight into it . . .
“You want to see?” Someone whispers in my ear. “Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll take the blindfold off and let you look at your new home.”
I start to tell them no, that I don’t want to see anything ever again, but I have duct tape over my mouth. I want to scream. Beg them to tell me where my sister and brother are. I try to move, wanting to run the fuck away from this place, but metal cuffs bind my hands, and I’m weak from dehydration and starvation.
“Don’t fight the pain, Ayden.” Fingernails pierce into my hands, and I feel a warm trail of blood trickle down my skin. “The pain is the easy part.”
I scream through the tape and kick my feet. Stop. Touching. Me.
I’m so sick of being touched. I never want to be touched again.
But she puts her hands on me again, letting them wander, before she removes the blindfold from my eyes and rips the tape off my mouth. “Open your eyes and meet your home.”
I shake my head. No. I won’t do it. Won’t do what she tells me.
She stabs her nails into my hands again, this time deeper. Searing pain shoots up my arms and rips through my body, and I bite down on my tongue until I taste blood.
“Open your eyes,” she warns, digging her nails even deeper.
I feel pathetically weak as I give into her request and open my eyes.
It’s the first time I’ve seen the light of day in who knows how long. But with the dark curtains hanging over all the windows, hardly any light flows through the room covered in strange circular symbols. The carpet has stains on it, red stains that look like blood, and so much dust and dampness is in the air that it’s hard to breathe.
“Hello, Ayden.” A man is sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, and he smiles at me. “It’s been a long time.”
What? Who the hell is this guy?
“You’re probably wondering who I am,” he says, rolling up the sleeves of his stained shirt. “I was hoping you’d remember, but from the look on your face, I’m guessing that’s not the case.”
Unraveling You Series: The Complete Set Page 46
