Twisted Read Online Free Page A

necessary.” I feel guilty about all the time he’s wasted on me, a complete stranger. It’s time to let him off the hook.
    He stares back at the house for a second. “Are you sure?”
    â€œYeah.” I try to sound convincing. “You’ve gone above and beyond.”
    â€œWell … I did spend a few years in the Boy Scouts.”
    â€œAnd it’s obviously paid off.” I force myself to smile, to reassure him.
    The car door is now dripping wet. I finish getting out, hook my bag over my shoulder, and walk around to the driver’s side window.
    â€œThanks for everything, Liam,” I say.
    â€œLike I said, no big whoop. And drop by the coffee shop sometime. I’m there most nights.”
    â€œOkay. Maybe.” I step back from the curb and wave.
    He sticks his head out. “I’m going to wait here until you’re in.”
    I nod and make my way up the walk. When I get to the front step I turn and look back. I realize the upset feeling in my stomach isn’t completely about seeing Aidan again; a bit of it is about saying goodbye to Liam. Liam, who only knows me as Lyssa — anonymous Lyssa. In spite of all the crap that came earlier, this past hour has been my first taste of normal in a long time. And it was … nice. Then again, I guess it depends on your definition of normal.
    The lights are on inside the house, but the porch is in complete darkness. I go to ring the bell, but the door swings open before my finger makes contact.
    There he stands, the brightness from inside the house making him look like he’s glowing around the edges, like he’s not real, like he’s an angel. Or a ghost. My breath catches, blocking my words. I didn’t expect to feel this way.
    I hear Liam toot his horn and drive off.
    Aidan looks past me over my shoulder and frowns. “I could have picked you up, you know.”
    My words are still blocked.
    He glances up at the porch ceiling. “Sorry, the bulb’s burnt out. Come in. Here, let me take that.” He holds a hand out for my bag.
    Wordlessly, I pass it to him and step into the hall.
    For a long moment we study each other. I take in every tiny detail. The changes are subtle. His dark eyes are the same, but set in a face that looks older. His brown hair is slightly shorter, not so long and “Shaggy from Scooby-Doo ” anymore. He’s still tall, but he looks even taller because he’s lost weight. I wonder what he thinks about me. Do I look the same as I did two years ago? Then I remember … he was at the funeral. He would have seen me this morning.
    Aidan moves first. He sets my duffle bag down, circles his arms around me, and envelops my body with his. All I want to do is hug him back, but I’m hurt. Hurt about this morning, hurt about the last two years. My body remains completely rigid. I’m a cardboard cut-out.
    He gets the message and lets go. I back away from him. I don’t know what to do with myself, where to look, what to say. Using my front tooth, I scrape at a dry flake of skin on my lip until I taste blood.
    He nosily clears his throat. “I’m sorry about your mom, Lyssa.”
    Finally I speak. “People said you were there this morning.”
    â€œYeah.” He nods.
    â€œWhy didn’t you come and talk to me?”
    He drops his eyes. “I didn’t know if you’d want me to.”
    A few seconds go by. “What about Vince? Did you talk to him?”
    His head jerks up. He looks insulted. “No.”
    â€œThen why did you come?”
    He drops his eyes again. “She was always good to me, your mom. I know I didn’t make it easy.”
    That’s an understatement. Aidan was the poster boy for “troubled teen.” I knew he smoked drugs; I could always smell it on his clothes. I’m sure Mom could smell it too, but she ignored it, probably to keep the peace. I figure Vince was more an expert in “eau