“I know. I was right here, remember?” I ask, starting for the door.

“I know. That was a test to see how your memory is.” She walks ahead of me and pushes the door open so I can go through.

“My memory’s fine.” But that’s not the truth.

I may be able to remember tonight, but I still can’t remember that time in the house. Part of me wonders now if the reason why I blocked it all out isn’t just because of the trauma and horrible things that happened to me in that house. Maybe my mind is trying to protect me from the pain of who was behind it all.

Could it be my real father who chose to break me, his own flesh and blood?

As soon as I step foot into the waiting room, my worries momentarily vanish, and all my thoughts center on one thing or person, anyway.

“Ayden.” Lyric’s eyes light up when she sees me. She sprints across the room, pushing people out of her way to get to me. When she reaches me, she throws her arms around me and almost knocks me to the ground. “I was so worried . . . I don’t even . . .” She stops talking and holds me tightly.

“Careful, Lyric,” Lila says from beside us. “He might have a concussion.”

Lyric starts to pull back, but I place my hand on the small of her back and press her closer. “She’s fine,” I tell Lila.

I won’t let her go.

Not until she knows.

Ethan gives me a pat on the back while Lyric remains latched on to me.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Her eyes are red like she’s been crying.

I’ve been crying, too, but not because I’ve been worried for my safety. I cried during the ride to the hospital because the woman got away. My hope to find Sadie got away.

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.”