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I want to run out the door. Run away. A year ago, I would have, but I don’t think I can do it now—go back in the system. No, I’m going to have to grovel, beg them to let me stay here with them.
“I’m sorry, we just …” I trail off, unsure of what to say. The last thing I want to do is get Lyric in trouble, but I’m worried if I take the fall, I’ll be kicked out.
Mr. Scott and Mr. Gregory exchange a look then Mr. Scott scoots out the barstool beside the one he’s sitting on and pats the seat while Mr. Gregory leans back against the counter and waits for me sit down.
Blowing out a breath, I plant my ass in the seat.
“What exactly were you and my daughter up to tonight?” Mr. Scott asks, watching me like a hawk.
“Um, we went on a bike ride, sir,” I answer, but it sounds more like a question than a response.
“What did you do when you got home, though?” This time it’s Mr. Gregory that speaks. “Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d guess the two of you have been drinking tonight, which would be really, really bad since we set ground rules of no drinking.”
“Um …” I struggle for a response, glancing back and forth between them.
Rat out Lyric? Get kicked out? What the hell do I do?
I don’t want to go back into the system.
Don’t want to go back.
Don’t want to.
Ever.
Mr. Scott leans over and sniffs the air. “Is that my scotch I smell on your breath?”
“I’m sorry, sir.” My pulse pounds as I rise from the stool with my head tipped down and my shoulders sagging. “I’ll go pack my stuff.”
“Pack your stuff?” Mr. Gregory mumbles, confused. The two of them trade a look, and then their expressions soften. “Ayden, we’re not going to kick you out, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
My gaze skims back and forth between them. “But I broke the rules.”
Mr. Gregory says to Mr. Scott, “See, this is what happens when they give us responsibilities. We fuck things up.” Shaking his head, he returns his attention to me, standing up straight. “Son, we’re not going to kick you out because you broke a rule, but I do need to punish you.” He seems puzzled over what to do next, and seeks help from Mr. Scott. “What do I punish him with?”
He shrugs. “I have no fucking idea. Ella usually comes up with the punishments, and this is the first time Lyric’s done something like this. Maybe ground him for a week?”
This is the strangest thing I’ve ever witnessed. In the past homes I lived in, by this point, I’d be getting yelled at. If I were still at my mother’s, fists would have been flying. But that still wouldn’t have been the worst part. No, that would come later.
Mr. Gregory considers the idea. “That seems doable.” He turns to me. “What do you think?”
I shrug, so damn confused. “Um, it sounds good to me, sir.”
He nods, looking relieved as he stands up straight. “All right, you’re not allowed to do anything for a week.”
I keep my head down as I breathe in relief. “Okay, sir.”
“And stop calling me sir,” he sternly adds. “That’s part of your punishment, too. From now on, you have to call me Ethan.”
I’m relieved he didn’t ask me to call him dad. That I couldn’t handle, since I’ve never called anyone dad before. Getting kicked out I can’t handle either, not anymore. Hell, I can barely handle the fact that they seem to want me around, despite the fact I’ve messed up.
“Okay.” As I’m starting to relax, Mrs. Scott enters the room, dragging Lyric in with her.
“Your daughter would like to tell both of you something,” she says, staring at a very pale looking Lyric.
Lyric sighs then looks at her dad. “I’m sorry that I drank some of your scotch and smoked your secret cigarettes.” Her dad’s eyes widen, as if he’s been busted, while Lyric continues, “And, Mr. Gregory, you should know that it was my idea. I talked Ayden into going into my father’s office and into drinking. And he didn’t smoke. That was all me.” When her gaze flicks over at me, the damn girl smiles and winks.
I got your back, she mouths as she wanders around the counter and takes a seat beside me. She leans in and whispers in my ear, “I’m going to make this up to you by helping you find your brother and sister. I promise.”
I want to hug her, but decide it’s probably not the best move right now, nor am I sure I can handle a hug. It’s a strange feeling, though—wanting to touch someone. It makes me pause. Really think. About who I’m turning into. Could I somehow, after what I’ve been through, turn out normal? Lose the fear of touching someone? Of the dark? Of the past?
I stay put until eventually everyone gathers back into the kitchen to eat cake and ice cream, and reminisce about my first month as being part of the family. It’s a pretty good ending to the day, and part of me thinks the perfection is going to carry throughout the night. That maybe my nightmares will somehow vanish.
But the moment I close my eyes to go to sleep, I fall into darkness and my scars start to bleed again.
Bleed. Bleed. Bleed.
Like wilting rose petals.
Against the darkness.
Dripping against the shadows.
Around me. All around me.
The metal bites my skin.
Killing me slowly. Painfully.
Never letting me breathe again.
Chapter 6
Ayden
Lyric being Lyric, she keeps her promise to me and helps me search for my brother and sister. We spend a lot of time during the summer and well into the beginning of senior year searching. We keep our efforts from the Gregorys and Scotts, though, mainly because it feels like we’re doing something wrong.
No article or search gives us any information on their whereabouts, though, even when we try to break into the social service’s records—yeah, we’re that awesome. Of course, we fail epically with our hacking since neither of us are computer geniuses.
We’ve been in my room all day. It’s late. The stars and moon are shining brightly from outside the window. I’m tired of staring at the computer screen. Lyric looks bored as hell, lying on her stomach on my bed, messing around with her phone.
“I think I need a break,” I tell her, swiveling in the chair as I rub my weary eyes.
“Don’t get discouraged.” Lyric tosses her phone aside and rolls off the bed, tugging the hem of her dress down.
The fabric is black and red with stars on it and it’s just the right length that I get an eyeful every time she bends over. I try not to look when she does, but ever since the incident in her father’s office a few months ago, I’ve been struggling with my attraction to her, something I’ve yet to tell anyone about, even my therapist.
If I were a better guy, I’d tell her to be more careful when she bends over. But I’m not a better guy. I’m a confused guy who got his first welcomed hard-on while she was sitting on his lap. I want her, yet I’m afraid to want her, afraid to feel that way about her, so I try not to look.
“I’m not discouraged.” My fingers fall to the keyboard. “I just need a break. I’m bored.”
“You’re bored. Wow, that’s a first.” She comes up behind me and places her hands on my shoulders, digging her fingertips into my shirt, massaging my muscles. I tense from her touch, momentarily forgetting how to breathe as her scent immerses me. “You’re usually so uptight. You need to relax, dude.” She rests her chin on my head as she keeps rubbing, driving my body into a confusion infused frenzy.
“What’s up with the constant dude remark?” I ask as I click off the computer screen. “You’re always calling me that.”
“That’s because you’re my dude, buddy, bro.” She laughs then kisses the top of my head. “Now get up. If you want a break, I’m totally going to give you a break.”
