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A smile touches his lips then he leans over the console to kiss me. But before our lips can reunite, his phone vibrates.
Sighing, he moves back to retrieve his phone and check the message. A frown etches his face as he glances at the screen. “We have to go home.”
“Why… We still have an hour and a half left before curfew.”
“Because… the police are after a man that fits the description of the guy we saw that night standing in front of the house.”
“Why are they after him? Was he hanging around outside your house again?”
His eyes are wide, sheer terror radiating from his pupils. “No he broke into my house.”
Chapter 11
Lyric
We text Sage and Nolan, telling them they have to find their own ride home, then we leave the party. By the time Ayden and I arrive at the house, my parents and the entire Gregory family have gathered in the living room of my home because Fiona, Kale, and Everson are too scared to go home. So scared, in fact, that they all brought their sleeping bags and pillows over to spend the night.
When we walk in, they sit us down and tell us what happened.
The Gregorys came home from dinner and Uncle Ethan caught the guy snooping around in Ayden’s room. Before they could do anything, the guy dove out the window. Uncle Ethan chased him for a mile but lost him in the park where a neighborhood Christmas party was taking place. The police are currently searching for the man and dusting for fingerprints even though Uncle Ethan is pretty sure the guy was wearing gloves. The worst part, though, was the tattoo Ethan saw on the back of the man’s neck—black ink and circles around solid lined symbols. While he didn’t get a really good look at it, he’s pretty sure it’s the same tattoo that Ayden has branded on his side.
“We’re going to find a way to get that tattoo off you.” Uncle Ethan says to Ayden as he paces the living room, more riled up then I’ve ever seen him. “We’ll get you laser surgery or you can go get it covered up, but it’s coming off.”
“Fine by me,” Ayden mutters, shutting his eyes and sucking in a breath.
“The police also want you, Lyric, and Ethan to go in and look at pictures,” Aunt Lila says. “See if maybe someone can identify him.”
“Okay,” all three of us mutter simultaneously.
The room grows quiet as reality seeps in. The guy had the same tattoo, which means he has to be part of the group that held Ayden hostage three years ago.
“We should turn a movie on,” Aunt Lila suggests to my mother, breaking the silence. “It might take everyone’s minds off this and help them fall asleep.”
My mother agrees and the two of them start rifling through the DVD collection while my dad and Uncle Ethan wander into the kitchen to make a snack for everyone.
Ayden remains pretty quiet as Lila asks everyone what we want to watch. His silence is concerning me. He says stress sets off his panic attacks.
I scoot close to him on the sofa. “Want to go up to my room and talk?” I whisper in his ear.
Ayden nods once then gets to his feet, pulling me up with him.
“Where are you going?” Everson asks. At fourteen-years-old, the kid is sassy for his age, but I prefer his sassiness over Kale’s gaping, especially after what Ayden told me.
Lila glances up from a stack of DVDs on the coffee table. “Ayden, you can’t go anywhere, not for a while anyway.”
“Lyric and I are just going up to her room, if that’s okay?” he asks politely. “We need to work on some songs.”
“Songs?” Lila asks, her face contorted with puzzlement.
“Did your father hire you, then?” my mother asks as she searches the couch cushions for the remote.
“Yep, he sure did.” Even though the night ended stressfully, I still glow with excitement and nerves, knowing that, in less than a week, I’ll be doing my first performance.
“Good. I’m proud of you.” She discovers the remote near the fireplace. “Just make sure you’re careful, okay? The environment at those kinds of things is very adult.”
“Mom, I turn eighteen in two months. I’m pretty much an adult already.”
“You’ll always be my little girl, Lyric Scott.”
“Aw, are you getting soft on me, Mom?” I dramatically touch my hand to my heart. “Usually, you’re the tough one and Dad gets all emotional.”
“I am the tough one.” She sternly points the remote at me. “But I love you just as much as him, which is why I’m going to come to the performance and keep an eye on you.”
I dramatically stomp my foot. “Crap, there goes my plan of doing drugs and hooking up with guys all night.”
“Lyric Scott.” Her eyes enlarge as she shoots a warning look, pressing that we have an audience. “There are children in the room.”
“Not really.” Fiona’s been doodling in her sketchpad the entire time we’ve been home but stops drawing to chime in. “I’m the youngest and I’m almost fourteen, which hardly makes me a kid anymore.”
“You are a child.” Lila strictly points a finger at her. “No matter how hard you try Fiona Gregory, no matter how much makeup you put on, you are still my little girl.”
“You know,” I intervene, offering my two cents. “I’ve often wondered why my mom and you and even Uncle Ethan and Dad all use our last names when you’re angry. I mean, it’s not like we don’t know who you’re talking to if you say Lyric.”
“Lyric Scott,” Aunt Lila scolds me, but then smiles. “Fine, you have a good point, but like how you and Ayden hold hands all the time, using your last names when we’re angry is something we’re going to do.” She glances at my and Ayden’s clasped fingers.
Kale tracks her gaze and frowns, like he’s just realizing Ayden and I do such a thing. On top of feeling awkward, I feel bad for him. I’ve had a ton of crushes over the last few years and it never feels all that great when you realize nothing will ever happen with the person you’re momentarily obsessed with.
Ayden’s grip on my hand strengthens. “We should go get that thing done,” he says to me.
“Thing?” Her attention descends to our hands. “I thought you guys were going to work on a song.”
“We are,” I say, hurrying toward the doorway before they can stop us.
“Keep the door open!” she calls out after us.
“Do you think she knows?” I hiss as I steer Ayden toward the kitchen to grab a snack before we head upstairs.
“About what?” Realization clicks and his jaw drops to the floor. “You mean about us… kissing?”
I nod as we enter the kitchen. The air smells of cinnamon and hot chocolate and makes my mouth water. “Yeah, it seemed like she might have known about us.”
“Known what about you?” my dad asks, his voice scaring the bejesus out of me.
I slam to a stop near the island, quickly realizing he and Ethan might have overheard us.
“Um, that Ayden and I haven’t gotten any of our homework done over holiday break,” I lie poorly.
My dad pops a chunk of chocolate into his mouth then trades a look with Ethan. “You two seem awful nervous
right now.”
I rack my brain for what to say and catch a whiff of cigarette smoke. Jackpot! My out.
“About as nervous as you two,” I retort, scooping up a couple of pieces of fudge from off a platter on the countertop.
“What do you mean?” The microwave beeps. “We’re not nervous.”
