The Replaced
Page 56
“Kyra?” The hairs that had already been standing on end vibrated as his voice, a voice I’d been waiting to hear for three and a half weeks, a voice I’d willed myself to dream about, brushed over them.
I was running then, closing those last steps that separated us. I didn’t stop to ask why he was here, or to worry about whether Griffin or anyone else was watching, or what they thought about me or Tyler or the fact that we knew each other. I launched myself at him, and he caught me, wrapping his arms around me, and it was amazing to feel him.
To smell him. To know his heart was beating just inches beneath my own . . . that it was beating at all after everything he’d been through, after everything I’d put him through.
It had been a risk to take him to Devil’s Hole, and it had paid off. Tyler had been Returned.
“Tyler. Oh my god, Tyler . . .” I couldn’t bear to let go. I might never let go, I thought as I got lost in his embrace. He felt leaner than I remembered, which wasn’t at all impossible, and possibly more muscular, like maybe he’d been following the same workout regimen as the rest of Griffin’s camp.
But his T-shirt had that same Tyler smell I remembered, which made me think of home, and the thought came to me that I was home as long as I was with Tyler. I wanted to tell him so many things, including that, but for now, this—right here—was more than enough. More than I could have dared to hope for.
“Kyra,” he repeated, and I wondered how many times he’d said my name at the same time I’d said his. “I . . . I can’t believe you’re here.”
“I know,” I said back, while he pulled away and gazed down at me with this wonderstruck look in those incredible-amazing-brilliant green eyes of his, and I tried to decide if they were more brilliant than they’d been before or if they’d always been this dazzling. “I was thinking the same thing. How did you get here? How long have you been back?” My face crumpled as the tears finally broke to the surface. “I . . . I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.”
Tyler crushed me to him, his chin bumping against the top of my head. It was all so familiar—the hug, and being consoled by Tyler, who was like that, familiar—that I almost didn’t hear what he said next. I mean, I heard it, it just didn’t make sense to me. “I was gonna say the same thing to you. I don’t think anyone thought they’d ever see you again.” His arms tightened and his voice rose, an elated kind of sound. “I can’t even imagine what Austin would think if he was here.”
My heart stopped again, but this time in a bad way.
And then he pulled back, and that hopeful look on his face fell away. “We can’t tell him,” he explained, saying it like this was new information to me, his voice dropping super low as he tried to make me understand. “Austin, your parents, they can’t know you’re back.”
I blinked. What the hell was he even talking about? They couldn’t know what . . . that I was back? I turned to Simon, whose face gave nothing away, and then to Griffin, who had her eyes trained solely on Tyler, and wasn’t paying any attention to me at all.
“You two know each other?” she asked Tyler, and there was something slippery about the way she looked at me, like she totally already knew all this. Like I’d been played.
Tyler glanced back at her and put his arm around my shoulder in a very pal-like way. Pals, he told her with that gesture, and my stomach sank achingly. “This is the neighbor I was telling you about. Kyra Agnew.” He shrugged, and his pal-hug tightened. “I’ve known her since . . . forever. No one’s seen her in . . .” He did the math and blinked at me, and even before he said how long it’d been, I wanted to vanish again because I knew where he was going with this. “Five years,” he finished, grinning down at me and letting out a low whistle. “Five long years.”
“You’ve known all this time,” I accused Griffin, wishing she hadn’t sent Tyler away, but seriously glad to be alone with her so I could have the chance to give her a piece of my mind. “I heard him—he told you my name. He told you I’d been taken. All this time we were in the same camp and you knew we knew each other. You knew he’d want to see me, and you didn’t bother telling either of us. Why would you keep us apart like that? What’s wrong with you?”
But Griffin, or “Griff” as Simon so adorably referred to her, didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed by my allegations, not in the way I wanted her to be. I wanted her to be ashamed the way a normal person would have been.
Instead she stared at me expressionlessly, like the dictator I suspected she was. “I did it for Tyler. He’s only been here a short time, and I wanted to ease him into camp life. Keep his old life separate from his new one. You showing up here, that was . . . inconvenient. I would’ve told him eventually.”
“Bull.” My hands were shaking at my sides and blood pounded past my ears as I challenged her.
Griffin just snorted. “Really none of your concern what I do, or do not, tell my people.”
“Tyler’s not one of your people.”
“He is now. Ask him.” She smirked, and I knew she had me. I’d seen him. I’d seen the way he looked to her as his leader. And I’d heard the way he’d described me—like I was his brother’s girl and the two of us were pals, the way we’d been before I’d come back.
“How did that even happen?” I asked, trying to stay angry with her but losing steam. “How did you . . . find him?” It was supposed to be me, I wanted to shout at her. Or maybe I wanted to shout it at myself for failing yet again. I was supposed to find him.
I was running then, closing those last steps that separated us. I didn’t stop to ask why he was here, or to worry about whether Griffin or anyone else was watching, or what they thought about me or Tyler or the fact that we knew each other. I launched myself at him, and he caught me, wrapping his arms around me, and it was amazing to feel him.
To smell him. To know his heart was beating just inches beneath my own . . . that it was beating at all after everything he’d been through, after everything I’d put him through.
It had been a risk to take him to Devil’s Hole, and it had paid off. Tyler had been Returned.
“Tyler. Oh my god, Tyler . . .” I couldn’t bear to let go. I might never let go, I thought as I got lost in his embrace. He felt leaner than I remembered, which wasn’t at all impossible, and possibly more muscular, like maybe he’d been following the same workout regimen as the rest of Griffin’s camp.
But his T-shirt had that same Tyler smell I remembered, which made me think of home, and the thought came to me that I was home as long as I was with Tyler. I wanted to tell him so many things, including that, but for now, this—right here—was more than enough. More than I could have dared to hope for.
“Kyra,” he repeated, and I wondered how many times he’d said my name at the same time I’d said his. “I . . . I can’t believe you’re here.”
“I know,” I said back, while he pulled away and gazed down at me with this wonderstruck look in those incredible-amazing-brilliant green eyes of his, and I tried to decide if they were more brilliant than they’d been before or if they’d always been this dazzling. “I was thinking the same thing. How did you get here? How long have you been back?” My face crumpled as the tears finally broke to the surface. “I . . . I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.”
Tyler crushed me to him, his chin bumping against the top of my head. It was all so familiar—the hug, and being consoled by Tyler, who was like that, familiar—that I almost didn’t hear what he said next. I mean, I heard it, it just didn’t make sense to me. “I was gonna say the same thing to you. I don’t think anyone thought they’d ever see you again.” His arms tightened and his voice rose, an elated kind of sound. “I can’t even imagine what Austin would think if he was here.”
My heart stopped again, but this time in a bad way.
And then he pulled back, and that hopeful look on his face fell away. “We can’t tell him,” he explained, saying it like this was new information to me, his voice dropping super low as he tried to make me understand. “Austin, your parents, they can’t know you’re back.”
I blinked. What the hell was he even talking about? They couldn’t know what . . . that I was back? I turned to Simon, whose face gave nothing away, and then to Griffin, who had her eyes trained solely on Tyler, and wasn’t paying any attention to me at all.
“You two know each other?” she asked Tyler, and there was something slippery about the way she looked at me, like she totally already knew all this. Like I’d been played.
Tyler glanced back at her and put his arm around my shoulder in a very pal-like way. Pals, he told her with that gesture, and my stomach sank achingly. “This is the neighbor I was telling you about. Kyra Agnew.” He shrugged, and his pal-hug tightened. “I’ve known her since . . . forever. No one’s seen her in . . .” He did the math and blinked at me, and even before he said how long it’d been, I wanted to vanish again because I knew where he was going with this. “Five years,” he finished, grinning down at me and letting out a low whistle. “Five long years.”
“You’ve known all this time,” I accused Griffin, wishing she hadn’t sent Tyler away, but seriously glad to be alone with her so I could have the chance to give her a piece of my mind. “I heard him—he told you my name. He told you I’d been taken. All this time we were in the same camp and you knew we knew each other. You knew he’d want to see me, and you didn’t bother telling either of us. Why would you keep us apart like that? What’s wrong with you?”
But Griffin, or “Griff” as Simon so adorably referred to her, didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed by my allegations, not in the way I wanted her to be. I wanted her to be ashamed the way a normal person would have been.
Instead she stared at me expressionlessly, like the dictator I suspected she was. “I did it for Tyler. He’s only been here a short time, and I wanted to ease him into camp life. Keep his old life separate from his new one. You showing up here, that was . . . inconvenient. I would’ve told him eventually.”
“Bull.” My hands were shaking at my sides and blood pounded past my ears as I challenged her.
Griffin just snorted. “Really none of your concern what I do, or do not, tell my people.”
“Tyler’s not one of your people.”
“He is now. Ask him.” She smirked, and I knew she had me. I’d seen him. I’d seen the way he looked to her as his leader. And I’d heard the way he’d described me—like I was his brother’s girl and the two of us were pals, the way we’d been before I’d come back.
“How did that even happen?” I asked, trying to stay angry with her but losing steam. “How did you . . . find him?” It was supposed to be me, I wanted to shout at her. Or maybe I wanted to shout it at myself for failing yet again. I was supposed to find him.
