“Apparently, he changed his mind. It’s kind of funny, though. The two of them hook up with more people than I can count. They almost seem perfect for each other in this weird, sick, whore-ish way.”
“I don’t know . . . It kind of sounds like a disaster to me. I mean, neither of them have ever been in a relationship for more than a minute.” And I still don’t believe this is about Maggie.
“True, but I have hope.”
“That’s because you’re you.”
She smiles at that. “I am pretty amazing.”
“Yes, you are.” I stretch my legs out. “So, have you told Sage and Nolan about the tour?”
She hesitates then shakes her head. “Not yet.”
“Why not?”
She crosses her legs and reclines back in the chair. “Because I’m waiting for you to agree to go.”
“Lyric—” I start.
“My dad said we have until after we record our album. I’m giving you until then to decide. If you want to go, then I’ll tell Sage and Nolan.”
“I’m not going to—”
She covers my mouth with her hand. “I’m not asking you for an answer right now, so don’t give me one.” She lowers her hand and sits back in the chair. “Give it a few weeks, and then you can tell me your answer.”
I puff out a breath. “Fine.”
But, unless my sister’s found, I won’t go. I can’t take off, hit the road, and live an amazing life while I know Sadie is trapped in darkness somewhere.
For the next twenty minutes or so, Lyric and I chat about lighter things, like the song she’s decided we’re going to sing together. Listening to the sound of her voice and watching her talk animatedly, I fall into another world filled with ease and calmness. But the moment Cole walks out from the curtain, the bubble around us pops.
“Come on back, and let’s get this put on you,” he says with a nod of his head.
My knees shake as I stand up and cross the room. When Lyric laces our fingers together, I feel the slightest bit better, until Cole tells me to take off my shirt so he can put the sketching on my skin and make sure we get it in the right place before we start.
I glance between Cole, Ethan, and Lyric, knowing I have to do this since the tattoo is on my side, but knowing doesn’t make it any easier.
“I can step out if you want me to,” Lyric whispers softly enough so only I hear her.
She’s never seen me with my shirt off, but if I’m going to have her in here with me while I get the tattoo, then it’s going to have to happen. I guess it’s time to rip the band-aid off and get over one of my biggest fears. Having her here while I get the tattoo was my decision. Plus, she loves me, and I need to hold on to that.
“No, you’re fine.” I take my fiftieth nervous breath of the day, grab the collar of my shirt, and pull it over my head.
By the time I get it off, my pulse is racing so fast I swear I’m going to have a heart attack. It’s the first time anyone has seen me shirtless since I was freed from that house except on a few rare occasions when Lyric walked into my room without knocking. I’m terrified, yet I’ve made this huge step forward.
Forward, forward, forward.
Please, just let me fly
Instead of falling off the cliff.
Lyric dips her head to catch my gaze. “You okay?”
“Yeah . . . I think so.” I cringe at the wobbliness of my voice.
My heart races violently the entire time Cole aligns the drawing on my ribcage. I hope that, by the time I lie down in the chair, I’ll relax, but that doesn’t end up being the case.
Instead, I become nervous over the needle. I stare at the ceiling, deeply inhaling and exhaling while trying to picture myself in a calming place—near the ocean, in the mountains, all alone. It’s a relaxation method Dr. Gardingdale taught me, but it doesn’t help. By the time the needle pokes my skin, I almost bolt from the chair.
Nails, biting nails,
Scrape layer after layer,
Peel away your soul.
You’ll never be the same again.
We’ll make sure of that.
You’ll be tainted.
I don’t want to be tainted. I want to be whole.
I’m stronger than that. I have to be stronger.
Or else what do I have to live for?
“Hey, look at me.” Lyric’s comforting voice draws me away from my thoughts.
I open my eyes and find her staring down at me.
“Do you want to hear my story now?” she asks in a calm, soothing voice.
As I stare into her bright green eyes, a calm rolls over me. “Yeah, tell me the story.”
She smiles, drags a chair over, and sits down beside me, holding my hand. “So, guess who the blond woman at the bar turned out to be?”
I hear the buzzing of the needle, distantly feel it, but feel her more potently. “Who?”
“My dad’s half-sister.”
“What? Where the hell did she come from? I thought your dad was an only child or something.”
“Remember how I told you that he hasn’t had contact with his father or his new family in forever. Well, I guess his half-sister decided she wanted to see him. She recognized me because she saw pictures on the Internet and tracked my dad down that way. I guess she chickened out last weekend, though, after talking to me. Then she showed up at his studio last night.”
“What happened?”
“At first, my dad was irritated and thought she was there because she needed something. But, when he realized she was genuinely there to see him, they chatted for a while. I guess she wants to be part of our lives.”