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“Backpack.” I hop up and step between them. “Go on, I’ll fill your water bottle.”
Milo takes off to the front of the house, and I turn to Lyric, who watches my brother. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He looks at me, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
“For treating him like a person,” I whisper.
“He is a person,” Lyric reminds me. “He’s a good kid.”
“I know.”
“You did that,” he whispers.
“I had great teachers.” My eyes fill with tears that I blink away.
“I guess I did too,” Lyric says. “Even though my parents were drug lords.”
I choke on my saliva for the second time that morning. Coughing, I clear my throat. “Are you going to talk to Matty?” I whisper.
“Not yet,” he says as his lips brush against my cheek. “Come on. I’ll walk you to school. You just won’t see me.”
“Back to playing my shadow?” I tease him.
A look of sadness crosses his features before it falls away. “For now.”
“Lottie, let’s go!” Milo yells from the front of the house.
With one longing look, I turn around and head to Milo. True to Lyric’s word, I didn’t see him at all on the walk to school while Milo chattered on about how Lyric was now his big brother. I also didn’t see him on the way back, but I felt him the entire way, and I felt safe.
The problem with emotions that make you feel good is that life makes sure those emotions are fleeting. They slip through my fingers like sand, and no matter how much I try to grasp that feeling and beg it to stay, I know it won’t.
If only I could live in the moment and hold onto happiness.
Twenty-Four
Matthew Hayes is missing.
That dread I felt, and the worry that something was going to happen, strikes me when I realize my messages to Matty go unread. He didn’t drop in at the diner or even the house. It’s as though he just disappeared.
I can’t even draw Lyric out of the shadows to ask where his brother went. For the most part, he and Desmond leave me to myself as they do whatever it is they do for thefamily, which only bugs me a little until I remember how sore they both made me. Surely they are just letting me heal, right?
Desmond still watches me from a distance, and Lyric observes from the shadows, but Matty? He’s gone. He hasn’t responded to a single message I’ve sent him over the last three days, and I sent more than a few. He’s ignored every single flirty text I sent.
My stomach twists into knots as I lie in bed Thursday night, unable to sleep. I know something is wrong, and no matter how hard I try not to think about it, I can’t help it.
I give up on sleep and reach for my phone, dialing Matty’s number. With each ring, my heart beats faster, anxiety gripping me tightly. He doesn’t answer, and my worry intensifies. He’s a grown man, but the feeling that something isn’t right lingers.
I’ll have to find him myself.
As I scroll through my contacts, looking for someone to watch Milo while I search for Matty, I stumble upon names I don’t remember adding. “Son of a bitch,” I mutter, half in frustration, half in amusement. Desmond and Lyric are there. I’m just going to call Lyric.
“Dove,” he answers on the third ring, sounding breathless, as if he’s been running or involved in something intense. “What’s wrong?” he demands, already sensing the urgency.
“I think Matty is missing,” I whisper, trying not to wake Milo. Panic surges as various scenarios of what could have happened to Matty flood my mind.
Lyric grunts, and in the background, I hear a moan—a man’s moan. A surge of jealousy makes me hold my breath as I attempt to eavesdrop. “I’m sure he’s fine.” His response tells me multiple things at once—he doesn’t know where his brother is, and he isn’t harming him.
Fear seizes my throat, choking off the words I want to say. I choke out, “I haven’t heard from him in days,” before Lyric’s sigh carries over the line. My shoulders tense, and I curl my fists into tight balls.
