Part of me wants to keep my lips zipped to pay her back for teasing me, but I care about her too much to let her get in trouble. So I rush over and grab the ashtray while Lyric turns off the music and stuffs the CD back into place. I carefully open the window and pour the ashes out onto the back lawn. After closing the window, I return the ashtray to the drawer where I find a can of air freshener. I douse the air with it and tell Lyric to flip on the ceiling fan. We finish cleaning up the best we can, and then Lyric seizes my hand and jerks me out the door.
“Just play it cool,” she whispers loudly. I can smell the scotch on her breath.
This is a disaster in the making.
“Just let me do the talking,” I tell her as we creep up the hall toward the kitchen. “And don’t breathe on anyone.”
She gives an exaggerated nod. I sigh.
We are so going down.
The situation only worsens when we enter the kitchen. There is cake, ice cream, and plates all over the countertops. Not only are her parents there, but so is every member of the Gregory family, most of them turning to look at us as we enter. I swear to God it’s like they know. Mr. Gregory pauses the longest, his head cocking to the side as he searches both our faces.
Fuck, he knows.
I open my mouth to say something, but Lyric beats me to the punch.
“I think I’m going to throw up.” Her fingers slip from my hand as she bolts out of the kitchen toward the bathroom.
Mrs. Scott glances at Mr. Scott, and then she runs after Lyric. Mrs. Gregory looks at me, the disappointment in her eyes making me want to sink into the earth and vanish into the dirt. She sighs then whispers something to Mr. Gregory. His eyes widen slightly as she backs away and ushers the kids out of the kitchen with her.
Then it’s just Mr. Gregory, Mr. Scott, and I, in an overly large kitchen that somehow feels overcrowded. The situation is alarmingly uncomfortable. Rarely does Mr. Gregory have to be the disciplinarian, but I have a feeling he’s about to.
I want to run out the door. Run away. A year ago, I would have, but I don’t think I can do it now—go back in the system. No, I’m going to have to grovel, beg them to let me stay here with them.
“I’m sorry, we just …” I trail off, unsure of what to say. The last thing I want to do is get Lyric in trouble, but I’m worried if I take the fall, I’ll be kicked out.
Mr. Scott and Mr. Gregory exchange a look then Mr. Scott scoots out the barstool beside the one he’s sitting on and pats the seat while Mr. Gregory leans back against the counter and waits for me sit down.
Blowing out a breath, I plant my ass in the seat.
“What exactly were you and my daughter up to tonight?” Mr. Scott asks, watching me like a hawk.
“Um, we went on a bike ride, sir,” I answer, but it sounds more like a question than a response.
“What did you do when you got home, though?” This time it’s Mr. Gregory that speaks. “Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d guess the two of you have been drinking tonight, which would be really, really bad since we set ground rules of no drinking.”
“Um …” I struggle for a response, glancing back and forth between them.
Rat out Lyric? Get kicked out? What the hell do I do?
I don’t want to go back into the system.
Don’t want to go back.
Don’t want to.
Ever.
Mr. Scott leans over and sniffs the air. “Is that my scotch I smell on your breath?”
“I’m sorry, sir.” My pulse pounds as I rise from the stool with my head tipped down and my shoulders sagging. “I’ll go pack my stuff.”
“Pack your stuff?” Mr. Gregory mumbles, confused. The two of them trade a look, and then their expressions soften. “Ayden, we’re not going to kick you out, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
My gaze skims back and forth between them. “But I broke the rules.”
Mr. Gregory says to Mr. Scott, “See, this is what happens when they give us responsibilities. We fuck things up.” Shaking his head, he returns his attention to me, standing up straight. “Son, we’re not going to kick you out because you broke a rule, but I do need to punish you.” He seems puzzled over what to do next, and seeks help from Mr. Scott. “What do I punish him with?”
He shrugs. “I have no fucking idea. Ella usually comes up with the punishments, and this is the first time Lyric’s done something like this. Maybe ground him for a week?”
This is the strangest thing I’ve ever witnessed. In the past homes I lived in, by this point, I’d be getting yelled at. If I were still at my mother’s, fists would have been flying. But that still wouldn’t have been the worst part. No, that would come later.
Mr. Gregory considers the idea. “That seems doable.” He turns to me. “What do you think?”
I shrug, so damn confused. “Um, it sounds good to me, sir.”
He nods, looking relieved as he stands up straight. “All right, you’re not allowed to do anything for a week.”
I keep my head down as I breathe in relief. “Okay, sir.”
“And stop calling me sir,” he sternly adds. “That’s part of your punishment, too. From now on, you have to call me Ethan.”
I’m relieved he didn’t ask me to call him dad. That I couldn’t handle, since I’ve never called anyone dad before. Getting kicked out I can’t handle either, not anymore. Hell, I can barely handle the fact that they seem to want me around, despite the fact I’ve messed up.
“Okay.” As I’m starting to relax, Mrs. Scott enters the room, dragging Lyric in with her.
“Your daughter would like to tell both of you something,” she says, staring at a very pale looking Lyric.
Lyric sighs then looks at her dad. “I’m sorry that I drank some of your scotch and smoked your secret cigarettes.” Her dad’s eyes widen, as if he’s been busted, while Lyric continues, “And, Mr. Gregory, you should know that it was my idea. I talked Ayden into going into my father’s office and into drinking. And he didn’t smoke. That was all me.” When her gaze flicks over at me, the damn girl smiles and winks.
I got your back, she mouths as she wanders around the counter and takes a seat beside me. She leans in and whispers in my ear, “I’m going to make this up to you by helping you find your brother and sister. I promise.”