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“Ayden.” She bites at my lip, causing my entire body to quiver.
I’m so confused.
My mind wants one thing.
My body the other.
Fear.
Want.
Fear.
Want.
Past.
Future.
She rolls her hips against mine, and I gasp in desperation. In desire. In a million things I don’t understand. My body feels like it’s about to explode as my fingers inch up the bottom of her bra, and then graze her nipple. I have no clue what I’m doing. Absolutely no idea. Want. I know that I want something, so I continue to caress her, gasping and groaning as her nipple hardens under my touch. She bites at my bottom lip again, stabs her nails into my arms, holding onto me, or holding me up—I’m not sure.
I’ve never purposefully touched a woman like this. Feared it for three years. Yet I want to touch Lyric more than I’ve wanted to touch anyone, so I cup her breast, feel her delicate flesh, and lick her soft lips. She tastes so good, her skin is so warm, and the whimpers coming from her make my heart slam against my chest, almost painfully.
I’m not sure how long it goes on, us in the car, exploring each other, but it feels like forever.
I could have gone on forever.
Eventually, Lyric pulls away, but keeps her forehead pressed against mine as she traces a finger up and down the back of my neck.
“I’ve missed you,” she utters with her eyes shut. “I’m sorry I upset you.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” I openly admit as I struggle to get oxygen into my lungs. “But it wasn’t your fault I got upset. I was—am just confused.”
Her eyelids lift open and she leans back. “About what?”
“About … stuff. There’s things about me, Lyric, that even I don’t understand sometimes.”
“You know you can tell me, right? Tell me anything.”
“I wish I could … but I can’t even remember everything myself.”
Strangely, she looks terrified, her eyes widening. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to bring this up to you, but right before you stopped talking to me, I found an article on the internet that I think is about you.”
I swallow hard, scared to death, yet needing to know. “What did it say?”
She secures her arms around me, as if she’s afraid I’m going to run. “It just talked about three kids being pulled out of a house. That they … had some injuries.”
“Lots of injuries,” I whisper, scared to death that this conversation is going to trigger what happened before I was pulled out of that house. “More than I think the reporters realized.”
Her chest rises and falls as she fights to breathe evenly, her sympathetic gaze drowning me in emotions I can barely comprehend. “Ayden, I …” She trails off as her gaze wanders to something over my shoulder.
“What are you looking at?” I track her gaze out the rear window and see a cop car pulling up to my home.
All the fear I had been battling suddenly explodes and smothers me.
Chapter 14
Lyric
For once, I can’t think of a single word to say. Can’t smile. Can’t breathe.
Everything had been so perfect for about five minutes. That kiss and those touches were the kind that artists crave, like a drug addiction. The moment was perfect, and a song was already forming in my head.
Then the cop car had pulled up to the house and everything went to shit.
I followed Ayden over to his house when he jumped out of the car. Then I sat in the living room with Lila, Ethan, and Ayden while the police started talking. My mom and dad quickly took Kale, Everson, and Fiona out of the house when they realized what the conversation was about.
They found Ayden’s brother. Not just found, but discovered his body in a ditch not too far away from their childhood home. And from what it sounds like, he might have been murdered. There is an ongoing investigation, and while they didn’t flat out say it¸ I got the impression that his brother’s death might have had something to do with whatever happened to them a few years ago, that there were some marks on his body that led them to believe this, along with some other evidence they wouldn’t divulge.
“If you can think of anything at all,” the taller of the two officers says, directing his question to Ayden as he hands a card to Lila. “I know in the initial investigation you told the detective that you couldn’t remember anything, but if you do, please call us.”
“Of course,” Lila replies, tucking the card in her pocket, struggling to keep it together.
“And you might want to be a bit more cautious over the next few weeks while we gather more evidence,” he tells Lila as she walks them to the door. “It’s just a precautionary measure, but it’s better to be safe.”
I try to catch Ayden’s eye as Lila finishes chatting with the officers, but he won’t look at me. Won’t look at anything, except the scars on his hands.
Lila is sobbing by the time she returns to the living room. Ethan looks like he’s about to throw up. And I feel as sick as Ethan looks.
“I’m going to go do my homework.” Ayden abruptly stands up from the sofa and walks out of the room at a normal pace with a relaxed expression.
So normal.
Like nothing’s wrong.
Lila’s shoulders shake as she reaches for a tissue on the table, her eyes filled with tears, and her makeup running everywhere. “Oh my God, this is so horrible. I need to go check on him.” She starts to get up, but Ethan drapes an arm around her and pulls her back down. “Let Lyric do it, okay? You need to calm down before you talk to him.” He looks at me for help.
I nod, getting to my feet. “Of course.” I leave the living room and start up the stairs, but pause when I hear the two of them whispering.
“We knew this was a possibility when we took him in,” Ethan says in a gentle tone. “We knew that those people were never caught, and that something might happen one day.”
“But I never expected it to happen like this.” Lila sniffles. “And did you see the look on his face. It was the same look he had when we picked him up that first day. God, what if he goes back to barely speaking.” Tears flood her voice. “I just want him to be happy.”
So do I. More than I want my own happiness.
I rush up the stairs and pause in front of Ayden’s shut bedroom door, hesitating before I knock.
“Come in.” His voice sounds so hollow that I almost start crying as hard as Lila. Instead, I collect myself and push the door open.
“Hey,” I say as I tentatively enter.
He’s lying on his stomach on the bed with a math textbook opened in front of him, doing his homework just like he said, as music thrums from the speakers of the stereo. He’s grasping something in one of his hands.
He finishes writing out the p
roblem before he glances up at me. “Did you need something?” he asks, the life in his grey eyes dead.
I press my lips together. “I just wanted to see if you were okay.”
He shrugs, returning to his paper. “I’m fine. It’s not like I didn’t expect that to happen.”
“You expected your brother to die?” I question as I close the door. “Why?”
