Lyric and I remain joined at the hip as we pile into her dad’s car. Lila rides with us, too, because she refuses to let me out of her sight.
“I’ll come back for the car in the morning,” she says as she climbs into the backseat with Lyric and me.
Ethan nods in agreement as Mr. Scott drives forward and out onto the road. Everyone stays pretty quiet during the drive, and the sound of the tires and the lull of the radio fills up the silence.
Lyric keeps her arms around me and her head resting above my heart. I count to ten under my breath, over and over again. Not because she’s touching me. Not because I’m having a panic attack. But because the need to tell her how I feel is about to combust inside me.
I thought I was going to die tonight,
Be buried in the trees
Beneath the stars and the moon
For only the sky to see.
My body would sink into the dirt
And be stilled in the silence forever.
And in the midst of my mind,
I knew I’d never be able to tell her.
It’s well past midnight by the time we make it home. Everson, Kale, and Fiona are asleep on the Scott’s couch and floor, and Lyric’s mom looks worried out of her mind.
“Let them sleep,” Mrs. Scott says to Lila. “I’ll call you when they wake up tomorrow.”
Lila nods gratefully. She has bags under her eyes, her blonde hair has slipped from her braid, and she looks drained dry. Even Ethan doesn’t look in that great of shape.
I want to make this easy on them so they can get some rest, but there’s something I have to do first.
“Can I talk to Lyric for a moment?” I ask as Lila leans down to kiss Fiona on the head.
“Of course.” She moves to Kale, pulling the blanket over him. “Just make it quick, please.”
I nod then steer Lyric toward the stairway.
“Where are we going?” she asks as I take her hand and lead her up the stairs.
“I have to tell you something.” I move slowly; otherwise, my head throbs. My heart, on the other hand, races violently inside my chest as I mentally go over what I’m going to say to her. Preparing doesn’t do any good, though, because the moment we make it into her room, and she looks at me with her stunning green eyes, my mind blanks out on me.
“I-I love you?” I stutter, sounding more like I’m asking a question than declaring my feelings for her. As soon as the words leave my lips, I want to smack myself in the head. “God, that sounded awful.”
“No, it didn’t. It was perfect.” Her hands glide up my chest, and she links her arms around my neck. “I love you, too.”
I seal my lips to hers, kissing her deliberately, savoring the taste, feel, scent, the warmth of her as I back her to the bed and lay her down. I know we don’t have a lot of time, but I need a moment to feel her beneath me, know she’s here.
Know that I’m still here.
I thought I was never going to have this again. Now that I have, I don’t know what I was so afraid of. This is better than music, poetry, words spilled on pages.
This is . . .
Perfect.
“I need you to do me a favor,” I say, pushing back to look down at her.
She nods, her lips swollen from the kiss, her chest heaving as she struggles to catch her breath. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”
She says exactly what I knew she would say. I just hope she’ll keep her word.
“I’m going to call Dr. Gardingdale and make an appointment to do the experimental treatment, and I need you to be there for me, because I know Lila’s not going to. Not after tonight.”
“Ay”—she hesitates—“are you sure that’s a good idea after what just happened?”
“That’s the thing.” I push up, sit down on her bed, and pull my knee up to rest my arm on my leg. “Tonight could have been avoided if I had just done the damn treatment to begin with.”
Lyric sits up beside me, combing her hair into place. “You know I’ll be there for you if you need me.” She lays her hand over mine and threads our fingers. “I just need you to be sure you want to do this.”
I turn and look her directly in the eye so she’ll know how truthful I’m being. “I want to do this.”
She grasps onto my hand and shuts her eyes. “Then I’ll be there for you.”
“Thank you.” I lean in and kiss her before moving off the bed and retrieving my phone from my pocket.
“You’re calling him now?” she asks, standing to her feet.
I nod as I dial his office number. “I’ll leave a message on his phone, but I need to do it now; otherwise, it’ll drive me crazy.”
I put the phone up to my ear, taking deep breaths and preparing myself for what I’m about to do. The cards have shifted now that I know my real father might be involved, and I’m even more terrified of what’s locked away in the box in my mind.
I have to do it now more than ever.
I know what the risks are. Shock. More memory loss. Heart complications. There’s a short list of other side effects, as well.
But it’s time to take that risk. It’s time for me to face my demons head on and find out what really happened to my siblings and me in that house. And who did it to us.