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Ever since the Gregorys and the Scotts found out about mine and Lyric’s relationship, they’ve been very adamant about an open-door policy. I’m okay with it, though, just as long as I get to see Lyric.

On my way out of the house, I pass by the living room. Fiona, Kale, and Everson are sitting on the couch, watching some sort of zombie movie on the flat screen.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Fiona calls out when she spots me hurrying for the front door. At thirteen years old, she has a lot of spunk. In a way, she reminds me of Sadie, back before we were taken. Always playing around, always so excited about everything, and a bit over-dramatic at times. “Oh wait. I bet I know. You’re going to see Lyric.” She flutters her eyelashes, drapes her hand over her head, and flops back on the cushions. “Oh Lyric, I love you so much. I can’t stand being away from you for more than ten seconds.”

I shake my head, my lips quirking. “Lyric and I haven’t seen each other all day.”

“That might be a record,” she says, sitting up on the couch. “Seriously, you guys have issues. When I start dating, I’m going to have a rule that we can only spend like two hours a week together.”

Kale, who’s almost sixteen, chokes on a laugh. “Yeah, I bet that’ll never happen. With how dramatic you are, you’ll end up being one of those girls who wants to spend every two seconds with her boyfriend.”

“Hey, don’t be rude just because you and Zoe broke up.” She slumps back. “It’s not my fault you got too clingy.”

“I wasn’t too clingy,” Kale grumbles, pushing to his feet. “I just liked spending time with her.” He squeezes by me and stomps up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door.

“Teenagers are so hormonal,” Fiona says with an eye roll.

“You should cut him some slack,” I say. “He’s still really upset about the break up.”

“He needs to get over it,” Fiona replies. “He didn’t even like Zoe that much.”

“He might have.” I lean against the doorway. “It seemed like he did to me.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t,” she says. “Trust me.”

“Did you actually hear him say that?” I ask.

“Nope. I just know this stuff.” She focuses on the television.

Fiona says these kinds of things frequently—that she just knows things she couldn’t possibly just know. I once heard her tell her friend she believes she’s a psychic, and while I’m not sure I believe in that kind of stuff, I can’t help but wonder sometimes.

“Hey, you still coming to my game tomorrow?” Everson asks as I turn for the foyer.

He’s fourteen years old and has been obsessed with football for as long as I can remember. His games are important to him and even though sports really aren’t my thing, I want to go to his game, get out of the house, get some fresh air.

“I think I should be able to make it.” I pat my pockets as I back toward the foyer again, making sure I have my phone on me, because I know Lila will text me a few times to make sure I’m okay.

“Cool.” He stuffs a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “It might be the last one you ever get to see for a long time.”

I pause. “How do you figure?”

He nonchalantly shrugs. “Because you’re graduating and going on that band tour.”

“I’m not going on the tour.” Just thinking about my band, Alyric Bliss, going on the Rocking Summer Blast Tour makes my mood plummet. But I can’t go with them. Not when the Soulless Mileas want me. Not when Sadie is out there waiting for me to save her.

“Yeah, right. You’ll change your mind,” Everson says. “I know you’re going through some stuff and those crazy people are after you, but you like music almost as much as you like Lyric. And since she’s going on this tour, you’ll end up going.”

I want to argue with him. Tell him he doesn’t get it. That there’s more to it than just some crazy people being after me. But a small part of me still hangs onto the hope that maybe over the next month my life will change, and somehow, I’ll get to go on the tour. Lyric even insisted I go with the band to record next week. She said whether they replace me or not, I’ve earned the right to be on the album. My initial instinct was to argue, but I really want to be a part of this with them, so I agreed.

“I’ll see

you in a bit, okay?” I tell Everson then walk out the front door.

I make my way down the path to the driveway, the night summer air instantly making me sweat. As I’m rounding the fence to head next door, I spot a police car parked not too far down the road. The car is always there, watching my house, and when I go to school, therapy, or band practice, it tails me. I never get any time alone anymore, and I long for the days when I can walk down the sidewalk without being watched and without worrying that someone is going to grab me.

Live for the days when I can just live.

When I reach the side door of the Scotts’ two-story home, I hear music blaring from upstairs, probably from Lyric’s room. I rap on the door several times before I give up and just walk in. I don’t cross paths with Mr. or Mrs. Scott as I make my way upstairs and to Lyric’s room, something I’m thankful for, considering Mr. Scott seems uncomfortable every time I’m near his daughter. Lyric says it’s because he’s worried we’re having sex. I want to tell everyone that they have nothing to worry about, that because of my fucked up past, I’m not sure when I’ll be ready to have sex. I used to think I’d never get to a point in my life where I could even think about having sex. But when I met Lyric, some of that fear was overpowered by want.

Want, want, want

All the time.

I want her so badly

I’m losing my mind.

With all the desire

And heat

Pulsating through me.

I feel like I’m stuck

Out on a wire.

Wanting to stay on

Yet wanting to fall.

Fall, fall, fall

Right into her.

God, please let me fall.

I can’t help but smile as I reach Lyric’s bedroom. Her door is open, “Holocene” by Bon Iver is playing from the stereo, and she’s sitting on her bed strumming her guitar and singing along with the song. Her long blonde hair flows over her bare shoulders, and she’s wearing a pair of red shorts, a black tank top, and the leather bracelets we gave each other last Christmas. She’s so beautiful that I have to catch my breath.

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