Inspiring You (Unraveling You 4)

“We so sound like a cheesy love song right now.” She grins as she sings, “You inspire me. I inspire you. Let’s get together and run through a magical field of rainbows and butterflies.”

I snort a laugh. “Don’t pretend like you don’t actually want to run through a magical field of rainbows and butterflies. I know how much you love them both.”

“Okay, you might be right. But let’s never, ever include rainbows and butterflies in our songs.”

“Our songs?” I ask with a cock of my brow. “As in plural? Because we’ve only written one so far.”

“You and I have a lot of songwriting in our future.” As if she senses me tensing, she adds, “Ayden, I know you say you’re not going on this tour, but I’m still holding onto the hope that you will.” My lips part in protest, but she talks over me. “And even if you don’t make it, I’ll still be back in a few months, and we’re going to pick up right where we left off. Nothing’s going to change between us.”

Reality seeps in and my body trembles even more.

Misreading my fear, she starts to withdraw her fingers, but I place my hand over hers, securing her palm against my chest.

“It’s not that,” I say in an uneven voice. “It just scares me . . . Thinking about being away from you for three months.”

“It scares me too,” she admits, giving in easily as I wrap an arm around her and pull her closer so our bodies are aligned perfectly.

Surprisingly, I stop shaking and a warm calm settles inside me. I give myself a moment to breathe in the inner peace, to let it really sink through me, because I don’t get to experience calm very often.

“I know you think I’m being naively silly,” Lyric whispers. “But I’m still hoping we won’t have to be apart. That you’ll go in on Monday and do this experimental therapy treatment, and the police will be able to find your sister.”

I know that it’s not going to be easy. That it may take several tries for the treatment to work. That if it does work, it might be like opening Pandora’s Box, and my mind will be so fucked up that I’ll be back to where I started before I came to the Gregorys’. There’s also the possibility something could go wrong. That I could end up in shock, with more memory loss, or even heart failure. The risks are why Lila won’t let me go, and why Lyric looks like she’s going to throw up every time the treatment is mentioned.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” I tell her when I note the paleness of her skin.

“You don’t know that for sure.” She buries her face into my chest. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me.” I smooth my hand over the back of her head, wanting to promise her I’ll be okay no matter what happens.

But I can’t bring myself to lie to her.

I’M SO WORRIED ABOUT AYDEN, my stomach hurts. My heart . . . God, my heart is having the most trouble. I’m not sure how to convince it everything will be fine, that keeping this secret for Ayden is the right thing to do. I want to tell someone so they’ll stop him from going through with the treatment, but it feels selfish to do so. Not being able to help his sister has been silently killing him. If this treatment works—if he can remember enough to save his sister—then maybe he’ll be able to finally, finally live his life in peace.

“You smell like vanilla cupcakes.” My voice is muffled as I press my nose against his bare chest.

Ever since he told me he loved me, he’s been getting better with being touched. But he still trembles sometimes, and when things get really hot and heavy, we have to stop before he veers toward a panic attack. Right now, he’s extremely calm, though, at least for him, so I’m going to savor this moment for as long as he’ll allow it to continue.

He tangles his fingers through my hair. “That’s because Fiona sprayed me with some girly perfume crap this morning. She used so much of it that it soaked through my shirt.”

I laugh, nuzzling closer to him. “Really? Why’d she do that? Just to torture you?”

“She said I needed to sweeten up. That I was acting too grumpy and sour.”

“Why were you acting grumpy?” I cross my fingers that he’ll open up and tell me.

“I don’t know . . . I think I’m just stressed and have been taking it out on everyone.”

I inch to the side so I can set my palm on his chest and feel the rhythm of his heart. “Stressed out about the therapy?”

His heart slams against my palm. “I’m stressed out about a lot of things.”

I angle my head back and look up at him. “But right now, you’re worried about the therapy.”

“Are you trying to play therapist?” he teases even though his pulse is still racing.

“Maybe.” I push up, straddling him, and my pulse accelerates as his gaze drinks in my chest. “I just know how you are . . . that you shut down sometimes and don’t talk about your feelings. What you’re doing Monday is super huge, and I just want you to know that you can talk to me, and hopefully, I can help make you feel a little less nervous.” I sweep my hair to the side and flash him a grin. “Making people feel better is one of my many talents.”

“And just how are you planning on making me feel better?” he asks, grazing his fingers across my breasts.

Like every other time he touches me, butterflies lose their mind inside my stomach. “Well, I wasn’t planning on doing that, but if that’s what you want then . . .” I trail off as I lower my lips to his. “I’ll give it to you.”

A husky moan escapes his mouth as I suck on his bottom lip. He cups the back of my head and draws me closer, sliding his tongue into my mouth. My body doesn’t feel like it’s under my control anymore as I rock my hips against his. He groans, but stiffens. I know he wants to do this just as much as I do—I can feel his hardness through his jeans. But wanting and having are two different things with Ayden, and I wait for him to stop us, like he usually does.

But after counting under his breath, he kisses me more fiercely as he grinds his hips against mine. He repeats the movement over and over again, moaning and gripping onto my waist. My hips move rhythmically with his as I lose myself in him. My hands drift down his chest and to the top of his jeans. I want to touch him like he touches me.

Touch him, touch him, all over.

Never let him go.

I wait for him to stop me and when he doesn’t, I undo the button of his jeans. His stomach muscles tense, but he continues kissing me. With a nervous breath, I dip my hands inside his boxers.

He groans something incoherent about trusting me as his body trembles. I worry I’ve pushed him too far, but then he seals his lips to mine and kisses me so forcefully I swear I’m going to have a bruise. I fall blindly into the moment, part of me wishing I never had to return. That I could just stay this way, him and I in this perfect place where he lets me touch him.

If only I could hold on forever.

Hold onto him forever.

He’s come too far

Just to fall all over again.

I can’t lose him.

The fear is always there in the back of my mind that therapy is going to change him, remind him why he has such a difficult time letting people touch him.

What if I lose him?

“You’re not going to lose me,” he breathes raggedly as he blinks up at me, his eyes glossy, like he’s high from our kisses.

“Did I say that aloud?

” I sound breathless. “Sorry, I thought I was talking to myself in my head.”

He chuckles. “You know that makes you sound kind of crazy.”

“Good for me you already love me,” I tease. “Crazy or not, you’re stuck with me now.”

“That’s perfectly okay with me,” he says. “Just as long as . . . as long as you’re okay with being stuck with me.”

I don’t answer with words. I answer with a kiss.

We make out for at least another hour before we put our clothes back on and lie down on my bed side by side.

“You should just spend the night,” I say as I trace the folds of his fingers.

“I wish I could, but I don’t think your dad would appreciate coming home to that.”

“My dad’s way more chill than he was when he first learned about us.”

“Yeah, maybe . . . But since I want him to stay chill, I think I should probably not be in your bed when he gets home.”

I jut out my lip, knowing he’s a sucker for the move. “That sounds like no fun at all.”

He laughs, shaking his head as he rolls on his side. “As much as I love giving you your way, I can’t this time.”

“Oh fine.” I sulk. “Can we at least do something fun tomorrow, though?” Before Monday when everything could change.

“I actually promised Everson I’d go to his football game with him.” He strokes my cheekbone and my eyelashes flutter uncontrollably. “You should come with me.”

“To a football game? Blah.” I make a face. “But if that’s what you’re doing, then count me in.” I dazzle him with a grin. “Man, it’s a good thing I love you.”

A small, rare smile graces his lips then he kisses me again.

“You taste minty,” he whispers against my mouth. “And kind of sugary.”

“That’s because I just ate mint chocolate chip ice cream before you came over.”

He takes another taste, before propping up onto his elbow. “Tell me something happy. I need happy right now.”

“Happy, huh?” I drum my finger against my lips. “Well, today at school, I won an award for that project I entered in that art contest.”

“Really?” The pain in his eyes briefly diminishes. “That’s amazing, Lyric, seriously.”