“Yeah, but like I heard Aunt Lila say that night, they knew it was a possibility that this could happen and they still chose to adopt you.” She gives my hand a comforting squeeze. “That’s how special you are.”
Even though I don’t entirely agree with her, I brush my lips against hers. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” she says, then she grabs the back of my head and fiercely kisses me back.
Her tongue slips out and parts my lips, causing a shudder to ripple through my body. A good shudder. One that makes me excruciatingly ache inside, long for more.
Suddenly, the door bangs shut. Lyric and I jump apart, breathless and gasping for air. Lila strolls into the kitchen with grocery bags in her hands.
“Oh good, I was just about to go look for you two,” she says, dropping the bags on the countertop. “I need your help.”
“With what?” Lyric asks, still holding my hand as she roams over the counter.
Lila undoes the buttons on her coat and shucks it off. “With my event tonight. I had a few waitresses cancel and I need fill ins.”
“You want us to mingle with my mother’s pretentious clients.” Lyric scrunches up her nose.
“They’re not pretentious.” Lila digs around in the bag and starts pulling out cans of condensed milk and stacking them on the counter. “They’re artists, like you.”
Lyric sits down on a barstool. “And I’m very pretentious.”
Lila shakes her head, but smiles. “Oh Lyric, you remind me so much of your father sometimes. Always so full of sarcasm.”
“Why thank you,” Lyric replies, beaming with pride. “Because of your compliment, I’ll give you a free night of my ever-so-awesome waitressing skills.”
A laugh slips from my lips as I sit down beside her. “Guess that means you get mine, too,” I tell Lila. “But mine aren’t so awesome.”
“That’s okay.” She throws the empty bag into the drawer. “At this point I’ll take whatever I can get.”
We start opening the cans of milk while Lila whisks eggs in a bowl, giving us directions on how to cheese fondue. After a few minutes, Lyric whispers for me to tell Lila about the knife.
I loathe giving her more bad news, knowing she’s only going to get more stressed than she already is. I still recap the details, and Lila rushes out of the kitchen to call the detective and tell him.
“She seems upset.” I open the fridge to grab a stick of butter.
“Of course she’s upset.” Lyric takes the butter from me and drops the stick into a small plastic bowl. “You’re her son and some creepy dude snuck into your room and stole a knife from you because he believes in some icky ritual.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” I tell her as she places the bowl into the microwave and presses the timer.
“I’m betting that’s what the detective will say to her. They’re investigating this group, right? They have to know about their rituals.”
I hate that she’s probably right about the group and the rituals. That she knows so much about this. That stuff like this exists in our lives.
When Lila returns to the kitchen a minute later, her eyes are bloodshot and her cheeks are streaked with the remnants of tears.
“Ayden, you need to make sure that you have someone with you at all times for the next few days.” She goes right back to mixing.
Lyric and I trade a look from across the kitchen island.
“How come?” Lyric aligns the lid of the can with the opener and opens the top. “Because the man still hasn’t been caught?”
“Yes. It’s just a safety measure until they can track down the guy and find out if he’s part of this group—get a positive ID on him. They dusted for fingerprints but nothing came up.” Lila taps an egg against the side of the bowl and separates the shell. “The detective brought up the therapy sessions and wants to have another visit to discuss how they’re going. He said we could do it when you guys go down to look through some photos”
“I don’t know why he wants to visit about that. Nothing’s changed. I still can’t remember,” I mumble as the microwave dings.
“Honey, that’s not your fault.” Lila retrieves the bowl of melted butter from the microwave. “You’re doing everything you can by trying.”
I nod, unable to speak. I feel like such a failure over the fact that I’ve gotten nowhere with my memories because my fear of remembering is hindering the progress.
“Ethan’s going to have to go to the concert with you guys,” Lila adds as she pours the butter in with the eggs. “I mean, we were going to go already, but he’s going to have to be backstage with you, to keep an eye on things.”