Inspiring You
Page 11
He shrugs, looking out the window. “That all depends on if he can find the woman or not.” His jaw tightens as he shakes his head in dismay. “Lyric, I’m so sorry for putting you through this.”
“Don’t start,” I warn. “You’re not putting me through anything. It’s not your fault those people are insane and won’t leave you alone.”
“It’s kind of my fault, though, if it’s my father who’s in charge of their group,” he utters quietly.
I reach over and set a hand on his scruffy cheek. “None of this is your fault. Trust me. Kids aren’t responsible for the bad stuff our parents do. If that were the case, then I’d be responsible for every time my mom gets a speeding ticket when she decides she’s going to race some dude in a sports car. Or when my dad secretly smokes in his office.”
“Smoking and speeding tickets aren’t really the same as kidnapping and murder.”
“Ay.” My heart is breaking for him. “You’re the sweetest guy I’ve ever met in my entire life. You’d do anything for the people you love, so trust me when I say you’re in no way responsible for anything that your father does. You need to stop being so hard on yourself.”
He blows out a breath. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right.” And a little shocked that I convinced him. “I’m always right, even when I’m wrong.”
A half smile surfaces. “There you go again. Making up your own rules.”
I open my mouth to keep going, but the officer knocks on the window, scaring the bejesus out of me. Ayden jumps too and quickly rolls down the window.
“It’s all clear,” the officer, who’s probably in his mid-twenties, says as he leans down and looks inside the car.
“You found the woman in the red rain coat, then?” Ayden asks, still tense.
“I tracked her into the school,” he says, nodding. “She’s actually the art teacher, Miss Merrybellton, or something like that.”
“And she was wearing a raincoat?” Ayden gapes at the officer in disbelief.
“I’m actually not surprised,” I tell Ayden. “Miss Merrybellton can be a little,” I circle my finger around my temple, “off her rocker sometimes. She’s always trying all these new styles. Today must be inappropriate weather attire day.”
“Well thanks for checking on it,” Ayden says to the officer, his eyes still wide with fear and worry.
“That’s what I’m here for. And it’s good you told me. We need to check out all suspicious activity,” the officer replies then steps back. “Now you should probably head home.”
Ayden rolls up the window, pushes the shifter into reverse, and backs out of the parking space.
He’s silent for most of the drive, which instantly puts me into worry mode. But every time I strike up a conversation, he gives me one or two word responses that lead to nowhere, and I worry he might be regressing.
My thoughts drift to my life before Ayden. I’ve always been a happy, positive person who’s had a good life. My mom and dad have been the rock stars of parents, always showing me unconditional love. I’ve always been able to chase my dreams. I’ve always had a roof over my head. But even with everything, I still felt something was missing. That something was Ayden.
I didn’t know it back then. Didn’t realize it when we first met. It took me time to get there—took us both time. And now that I have it, there’s no way I’m going to lose it.
When we get home, Ayden parks the car in front of the garage then twists in his seat to face me. “We have to leave in a half an hour.” He chews on his bottom lip as he glances at the door of his house. “I’m not sure what to tell Lila since I normally don’t go to appointments on Monday’s.”
“Just tell her you’re stressed and need to talk to someone,” I suggest, unbuckling my seatbelt.
“But how do I explain why you’re coming with me? And why we’re going to a doctor’s office instead of the normal therapy office building.”
My jaw just about smacks the floor. “We’re going to a doctor’s office?”
He slips the keys out of the ignition and opens the door. “It’s just a precautionary measure in case something unexpected happens.”
“I read a little about this treatment, and from what the articles said, you’ll be put under sedation. Is that true?”
“I’ll be under but I’ll still be able to talk, at least from what I understand. But I think I’ll be really out of it.” When he sees the panic in my eyes, he cups my face between his hands. “Everything’s going to be okay. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”
“Don’t start,” I warn. “You’re not putting me through anything. It’s not your fault those people are insane and won’t leave you alone.”
“It’s kind of my fault, though, if it’s my father who’s in charge of their group,” he utters quietly.
I reach over and set a hand on his scruffy cheek. “None of this is your fault. Trust me. Kids aren’t responsible for the bad stuff our parents do. If that were the case, then I’d be responsible for every time my mom gets a speeding ticket when she decides she’s going to race some dude in a sports car. Or when my dad secretly smokes in his office.”
“Smoking and speeding tickets aren’t really the same as kidnapping and murder.”
“Ay.” My heart is breaking for him. “You’re the sweetest guy I’ve ever met in my entire life. You’d do anything for the people you love, so trust me when I say you’re in no way responsible for anything that your father does. You need to stop being so hard on yourself.”
He blows out a breath. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right.” And a little shocked that I convinced him. “I’m always right, even when I’m wrong.”
A half smile surfaces. “There you go again. Making up your own rules.”
I open my mouth to keep going, but the officer knocks on the window, scaring the bejesus out of me. Ayden jumps too and quickly rolls down the window.
“It’s all clear,” the officer, who’s probably in his mid-twenties, says as he leans down and looks inside the car.
“You found the woman in the red rain coat, then?” Ayden asks, still tense.
“I tracked her into the school,” he says, nodding. “She’s actually the art teacher, Miss Merrybellton, or something like that.”
“And she was wearing a raincoat?” Ayden gapes at the officer in disbelief.
“I’m actually not surprised,” I tell Ayden. “Miss Merrybellton can be a little,” I circle my finger around my temple, “off her rocker sometimes. She’s always trying all these new styles. Today must be inappropriate weather attire day.”
“Well thanks for checking on it,” Ayden says to the officer, his eyes still wide with fear and worry.
“That’s what I’m here for. And it’s good you told me. We need to check out all suspicious activity,” the officer replies then steps back. “Now you should probably head home.”
Ayden rolls up the window, pushes the shifter into reverse, and backs out of the parking space.
He’s silent for most of the drive, which instantly puts me into worry mode. But every time I strike up a conversation, he gives me one or two word responses that lead to nowhere, and I worry he might be regressing.
My thoughts drift to my life before Ayden. I’ve always been a happy, positive person who’s had a good life. My mom and dad have been the rock stars of parents, always showing me unconditional love. I’ve always been able to chase my dreams. I’ve always had a roof over my head. But even with everything, I still felt something was missing. That something was Ayden.
I didn’t know it back then. Didn’t realize it when we first met. It took me time to get there—took us both time. And now that I have it, there’s no way I’m going to lose it.
When we get home, Ayden parks the car in front of the garage then twists in his seat to face me. “We have to leave in a half an hour.” He chews on his bottom lip as he glances at the door of his house. “I’m not sure what to tell Lila since I normally don’t go to appointments on Monday’s.”
“Just tell her you’re stressed and need to talk to someone,” I suggest, unbuckling my seatbelt.
“But how do I explain why you’re coming with me? And why we’re going to a doctor’s office instead of the normal therapy office building.”
My jaw just about smacks the floor. “We’re going to a doctor’s office?”
He slips the keys out of the ignition and opens the door. “It’s just a precautionary measure in case something unexpected happens.”
“I read a little about this treatment, and from what the articles said, you’ll be put under sedation. Is that true?”
“I’ll be under but I’ll still be able to talk, at least from what I understand. But I think I’ll be really out of it.” When he sees the panic in my eyes, he cups my face between his hands. “Everything’s going to be okay. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”
