“You’re wrong about that,” I say in just above a whisper, smiling.
Wyatt slides his hand to the back of my head and brings our faces so close that our noses touch. “I’d never lie to you. I’d never try to hurt or confuse you.”
But he is confusing me. As our mouths meet, and I taste his lips and our breaths mingle, I can’t understand what’s happening to me. How can this be Wyatt who is turning my body to liquid heat? How can I be kissing him back as if I’m starving for him? How can I feel what I’m feeling for Wyatt when Ty still owns a giant piece of my heart?
Shaken, I pull away, my heart in my throat.
“Wow.” Wyatt exhales. “Was that Iris or you?”
“Me.” I feel myself blush.
“And you were kissing . . . ?”
“You.”
He grins. “I hoped you’d say that.” Reaching back, he opens his door.
Wyatt is out of the truck, around to my side, and opening the door before I can move. He takes my hand to help me climb down, and we walk into the cabin together.
I lay the folder on the coffee table, then peek into Mom’s bedroom. She’s still asleep, snoring softly. Closing her door, I return to the living room and whisper to Wyatt that everything is okay.
“I’ll come by after practice tomorrow,” he says. “We’ll figure all of this out, Lil. I’ll even try to talk to your mom, if you want.”
Still dazed by our kiss, I nod, unable to speak.
“Well, see you later.” His gaze roams my face. “Don’t forget my graduation ceremony tomorrow night.”
I stand at the front window and watch him drive away, stunned by what happened between us in the truck . . . and how he made me feel.
I don’t go to bed after Wyatt leaves. Propped up against a pile of pillows on my bed with Cookie stretched out at my side, I stare down at the folder of articles Ty gave me, afraid to open it. My parents have betrayed my trust in so many ways. I’m not sure how many more of their lies I can handle.
Cookie sighs so deeply he moans. “I know what you mean,” I murmur, stroking the velvet oval of his ear. My lips still tingle from Wyatt’s kiss. I want to regret what happened, but I don’t. Still, I’m torn. Shouldn’t my new feelings for Wyatt erase all my feelings for Ty? Even though I kissed Wyatt and liked it, it’s Ty I want to talk to now. Ty’s voice I want in my ear, his dark eyes I want to look into. The same dark eyes that calmed me that morning on the peak when Dad was dying and I was out of my mind.
I want so much to believe that his feelings for me really kept him from leaving Silver Lake. I can’t stand thinking that he had an ulterior motive for getting close to me. Could it be true that he only came here to persuade Mom and Dad to talk to his parents?
“Iris,” I whisper aloud, and hold my breath.
She’s here, of course. The white noise that I’ve become accustomed to, the constant snowy static in the background of my mind that’s easy to ignore because it’s always there. “Is this how you felt about Jake?” I ask.
There’s a break in the hiss, a hiccup so brief that I might’ve missed it if I hadn’t been desperate to hear. And in that tiny space of time, the sighed words: Find him.
I’ll try. Hoping for a miracle, I ask, Did Ty’s story bring back any memories? Other than our aunt, I mean?
A reporter . . . he said my music had an incredible soothing effect. I played for patients in hospitals . . . nursing homes.
Mom said you helped her, I say.
Her lupus. The music made her forget the pain for a while.
Encouraged by how much is coming back to her, I ask, What else, Iris? Who is the man who scared you? What did he make you do?
Can’t remember. Jake will know. . . .
Dread presses down on me as I open the folder in my lap. At the top of the pile of clippings I find an article from a 1993 newspaper about an investigation of Dad’s research. I stare at it for a full minute, hesitant to read what’s there. Finally, I take a breath and start at the top.