“Can I . . . ?” I bite down on my lip, wondering if I should ask.
“Can you what?” he wonders with his forehead creased.
I let my lip pop free. “Can I see the tattoo?”
He hesitates before his fingers drift toward the bottom of his dark grey T-shirt. “Yeah, sure.”
“Are you sure?” I double check. “You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to.”
“No . . . I want to.” He grips the fabric. “Besides, you should get to see your artwork.” Summoning a deep inhale, he lifts the shirt up and slips one arm out of the sleeve.
Bright red and gold ink splatters up his side along with intricate shades that contrast with the dark lines of the feathers and cover the mark.
“It’s gorgeous.” You’re gorgeous. “Cole did an amazing job.” I climb off the trunk and move in front of Ayden to get a better look. “Man, I so need to get a tattoo.” Instinctively, I reach forward to touch him, but realize he’s probably not going to like that, so I pull back.
Ayden catches my hand. “I want to try something,” he whispers, his voice strained.
I nod, even though I don’t have a damn clue what he’s about to do. Don’t care, though. Let him do whatever he wants with me.
He slowly guides my hand back to him and, with an uneven breath, places my palm on his chest. His heart is hammering and slams against my hand.
I don’t say anything. I can barely breathe, knowing how important this moment is to him—to us.
“Your skin’s so soft,” I utter, afraid to move my hand and ruin the moment.
His hands slide to my hips, and his fingers inch up my shirt. “So’s yours.” He traces his finger back and forth along the speck of flesh.
A shiver courses through me, and I suddenly can’t breathe.
Air ripped from my lungs.
Heart bleeding.
I need to see all of him,
Every inch,
Feel the softness of him against me.
I want it so badly my soul aches.
I start to draw back because it seems like we could both use a break from the intensity, but my hands have other ideas, and my fingers drift up his chest. When he doesn’t protest, I inch my hand higher, keeping our eyes locked, making sure he’s all right. I don’t want to push him. If he so much as even looks like he’s freaking out, I’ll stop in a heartbeat.
When his eyes snap wide, I jerk back. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.” He counts to three under his breath then, with a swift yank, removes his shirt. “I want to . . .” His breath falters as I take in the sight of him.
While he was getting his tattoo, I tried my best not to stare. Right now, all I do is stare. Stare, stare, stare forever. He’s not ripped like a jock or sculpted like a model. He’s lean and toned and has a few scars on his skin. He’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, and it almost makes me cry that he’s mine.
“You’re so beautiful.” I gently place my hands on his chest and his skin is warm against my palms.
He shivers from my touch. “I want to feel you, too”—he takes a few shallow breaths—“against me.”
I want to ask him if he can handle that, but I don’t think he’d ask if he didn’t actually want to. And I want to too. So, so much, I can hardly stand it.
I step back and shut the door. Then I head back across the room toward him, lifting my shirt over my head.
His grey eyes soak me in as I fumble with the clasp of my bra. Once unfastened, I lower the straps from my shoulders and toss it on the floor. Then I turn to his iPod on the dresser, scroll to my playlist, and select “Youth” by Daughter.
“This seems like the kind of moment that needs a song,” I explain when he gives me a puzzled look.
As I climb up on his lap and put a leg on either side of him, he struggles to breathe evenly, and my heart slams against my chest. He’s nervous. I’m nervous. This isn’t a big deal just for him. I’ve never been this far with a guy before, and I’m glad Ayden is my first. Glad I get to experience a lot of my firsts with him.
He smooths his hands over my sides as I loop my arms around his neck and press my chest against his. The skin-to-skin contact is better than I could have ever imagined in my crazy, imaginative mind.
He’s warm enough to thaw a thousand icebergs,
Liquefy the world into water,
Melt the coldest of hearts,
Chip away at frigid souls.
He gasps as I clutch onto him. Then he slips his arms around me, presses me closer, and buries his head in the crook of my neck, kissing my hammering pulse.
A few tears land on my shoulder as he starts to cry.
“I love you,” I whisper just loud enough for him to hear.
He doesn’t say it back, but he embraces me with everything he has in him, and I know it’s his silent way of saying it back.
Chapter 15
Ayden
Saturday night might have been one of the most amazing nights I’ve ever had. Spending the night with Lyric in my arms, simply holding each other with our bodies connected, surpassed every good experience. She said I love you again, and I almost said it back.
The words burned on the tip of my tongue,
Scorching metal,
Ready to brand our souls
Forever.
I didn’t quite make it there, but I’m not too upset with myself. In fact, I’m probably the happiest I’ve been in a long time.
All that changes Monday morning when I open the car door to go to school. In the center of the driver’s seat is a piece of paper wrapped by a faded pink ribbon.
Knife
Hair
Sadie
Sacrifice.
It’s time we finally talked, Ayden. Meet us as the Golden Center Docks tonight at 10:00 pm if you ever want to see you sister again. And make sure to come alone.
“Sadie,” I whisper, my hand trembling as I tumble into a memory.
“Ayden, help me!” she cries through the darkness.
I can’t see her anywhere.
Where is she? Where is she? Where is she?
I search the darkness and see a woman with blood red hair.
Red hair, like blood.
Then I see Sadie chained to a wall, her pink ribbon stained with drops of blood.
“We’re always watching you.”
I blink from the memory, my body quivering as I jerk my hand back. I can’t touch it, not when there might be fingerprints.
My gaze skims the neighborhood, searching for a face I can’t remember. Since it’s early May, the neighborhood is buzzing with the summer air, and people seem to be everywhere. Short, tall, thin, heavy, a guy with blonde hair, a woman with red hair, and it feels as if they’re all watching me.
Blood, blood, blood everywhere.
Red nails.
Red hair.
Blood, blood, blood.
I run up the driveway to the house, throw open the back door, and stumble into the kitchen.
“Ayden.” Lila’s head snaps up from her breakfast, and her eyes widen as she shoves the chair back from the table. “Oh, my God, what happened?”
“A letter,” I barely get the words out as I point at the back door. “There’s a letter on the seat of the car.”
Ethan is storming for the back door in less time than it takes me to suck in my next breath. “Stay here,” he warns as he rushes outside, slamming the door behind him.
Lila hurries over around the table to me as I sink down in a chair.
“The note . . .” I lower my head into my hands, guilt crushing my chest. “It had my sister’s hair ribbon on it . . . It had to be hers.”
Lila kneels down in front of me and folds her arms around me. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
Five minutes ago, I would have agreed with her.
“No, it’s not,” I croak. “The note said that, if I want to see my sister again, I have to meet them at the Golden Center Docks tonight.”
br /> “Don’t worry. That’s not going to happen.” Lila hugs me tightly until Ethan comes back in.
She stands up, and the two of them exchange a hushed conversation in the doorway. After they’re done with their discussion, Ethan rushes upstairs while Lila ducks into the living room to make a phone call.
When she returns to the kitchen, she sits down in the chair beside me.
“Ethan’s going to get everyone off to school before the police show up,” she tells me. “Detective Rannali is going to come here and collect the note, search the area, and dust for prints. He wants you to be here to ask you some questions, though.”
I nod, balling my hands into fists underneath the table, wishing I could go back to Saturday night and have Lyric hold me again.
“I wish the detective would have still been watching the house. It’s like they were waiting for them to leave to make their next more.” When I say it aloud, I realize how true that might be.
“You should text Lyric and tell her she’ll need to find a ride,” Lila says, watching me like a hawk, as if she expects me to crack apart like I used to. “Ayden, everything’s going to be okay. We’re going to take care of this.”
I want to break apart, shatter into pieces, but I’m stronger than that. I can feel the strength where the fresh ink stains my flesh and in the lingering memories of Lyric’s lips against mine and the feel of our flesh touching.
Strong.
Strong.
Strong.
I dig my phone out of my pocket and send Lyric a text.
Me: I can’t take u to school this morning. Something came up. Sorry.
Lyric: Everything okay?
Me: I’ll talk to u at school, okay?
Lyric: Okay.
I know she’s probably worried now, but I don’t want to give the details of what happened via text.
I put the phone away then spend an hour waiting for the police to show up and another hour after that for them to dust for prints. The entire time, I’m trying to figure out what to do about the note. As risky as it is, I think I need to do what they requested and meet them. Am I terrified out of my goddamn mind? Yes. Will I hate myself if I don’t do it? Yes. The biggest problem is going to be convincing Lila to let me go.
After the police are finished dusting for prints and the letter is bagged, Detective Rannali sits down in the living room with Lila and me to ask me some questions—if I’ve seen anything suspicious, if I know why they sent me the letter.
When he’s finished, I have a few questions for him about Sadie and the case. Call it a last resort to the inevitable—that I’m going to have to meet those people at the dock.
“What about those pictures on the website?” I ask. “Have you looked into those? They seem like someone could find them if they went looking for them.”
“We’ve done some research into that, but all the places have yet to be tracked down.” He clicks his pen and presses it to a notepad he fishes from his suit jacket pocket. “And, Ayden, let me stress that you searching for those places is not an option. We believe that was what your brother was doing right before he was murdered. We’ve had some witnesses give us statements that he was on some sort of mission to find his sister.”
“How did he even know she was taken?” I wonder, taken aback.
He went looking for her? Risked everything to find her?
“I think the two of them somehow managed to remain in contact. We pulled your brother’s phone records, and Sadie sent him a text a few days before she was taken.”
Sadie and her bad feelings. She was always having them and was usually right. She had a bad feeling the day we were taken, warning him that she had a feeling something bad was about to happen.
Sadie.
Sadie.
Sadie.
I’m going to help.
Please, just hold on.
“We’re still investigating into it more.” He writes something down then glances at Lila. “I have to ask about the amnesia therapy. How have they been coming along? The last update we received was quite a while ago.”
“That’s because he stopped treatment,” Lila replies curtly, folding her arms. “We didn’t see the need for him to keep doing them when there wasn’t any progress.”
“As of now, that treatment might be the only thing that will help us identify the perpetrators.” He seems irked. “I wish you would have informed us that he’d stopped them.”
“What about what the note said?” I intervene. “Are we going to talk about that?”
His irritation lessens, as if he were waiting for me to bring it up. “I was planning on mentioning it, yes. I want to know how you feel about it.”
“He’s not going to meet those people anywhere,” Lila snaps. “I’m not going to let him.”
“I’m eighteen,” I mutter, knowing I’m going to upset her and loathing myself for having to do it.
In the end, this is about saving Sadie.
Lila narrows her eyes at me. “I don’t give a shit how old you are. You’re my son, and you’ll do what you’re told.”
“Living a life where I could be kidnapped is just as risky,” I point out. “I need to do this. Maybe, if I do, it’ll lead us to Sadie.”
Lila tears up. “I can’t let you risk your safety like that. If you go there . . . alone . . .” She shakes her head. “No, I won’t let you do it. I can’t lose you.”
“He wouldn’t be alone,” the detective chimes in. “We would have officers around the area. The Golden Center Docks couldn’t be a more perfect area for this. There are trees and plenty of other places to hide. Plus, it’s secluded from the city.”
Lila glares at him. “I’m not letting you use him as bait.”
“I’m not being used as bait,” I insist. “I need to go there for my own sake. Do you know how bad it would eat away at me . . . ? How bad it does eat away at me that I can’t save her? She’s there, and I’m here. She’s suffering, and I’m not.”
“Ayden, I . . .” She has no clue what to say to the truth of my words.
“Besides, if we do this, it could lead to some arrests and maybe put an end to this,” I press. “I—we—could all finally have a fucking normal life.”
It might be the biggest and longest speech I’ve ever made, and there’s definitely a shock factor to it.
Lila sniffs back tears. “I just want you to live the life you deserve without all this pain.”
“Then let me do this for myself. For my sister.” I shut my eyes and take a deep breath. “For my brother.”
When the room grows quiet, I open my eyes.
She’s staring out the window, her eyelashes fluttering against the tears. Detective Rannali catches my gaze and gives me an encouraging look. I don’t give a shit about him, though. I’m not doing it for him. I’m doing it for my sister and myself. And for my brother.
“I want assurance that no harm will come to him.” She looks over at the detective. “I won’t agree to this unless you can give me that.”
He nods. “Of course.” He tucks the pen and notepad into his pocket. “We’re not going to put your son at risk. We’ll do this safely, and if anything looks suspicious, then we’ll pull him out.”
Lila’s gaze lands on me. “You have to promise me the same thing. If at any time something seems wrong, you’ll leave.”
I nod, some of the tension alleviating in my chest, but it’s replaced by fear.
Am I really going to do this? See them again? The people who stole my life from me?
Her gaze elevates to the ceiling as she dabs her eyes. “I hope I don’t regret this,” she mutters. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”
Even though I’m not the touchy feely type, it seems like the kind of moment where I should give her a hug, so I wrap an arm around her and give her a pat on the back.
“Thank you . . . and not just for this. For taking me in and making sure that I didn’t . . . well, you know.”