The next day, when Kyle comes over, I show him the warning note. I've already told him the gist of what has happened over the phone and he's definitely not happy about it. Upset would be a better choice of word.

I haven't shown the note to Aunt Abbie because I don't want her to freak out over this. Maybe I'm just overthinking things. Whatever it is, I'm telling Kyle first because 1) he's my boyfriend and 2) people often say that a third party always has a better and clearer view of the situation. He might catch details I've not thought about. After all, he has dealt with a lot more people and seen more crime movies than I ever have.

He's seated on the edge of my bed. As he scans the words, his eyes narrow in anger and his jaw clenches tightly. "This is the only note you've received so far?"

"Yes," I pause briefly. "What should I do? Should we call the cops?"

He ponders for a minute, weighing his options in his head. "The police won't act based on this note alone. They have always received fake calls and might think that this is just a prank by the neighbor's kids," he says. "I say we wait for a couple of days and see if more notes appear. We need to collect more evidence that'll convince them to help us."

He's made a good point, but something else perturbs me. I ball my fists and bite my bottom lip in trepidation. "What if this guy appears?"

Kyle's face softens, and he folds me into his arms. His embrace comforts me, his voice rumbles into me through his chest. "Not happening. And I won't leave you alone. I'll never let him hurt you."

"It's not me I'm worried about." I think of my aunt, uncle, and my baby cousin. Pulling them into such a mess is the last thing I want. "I don't want others to be implicated by this."

"Nobody's getting hurt. The person said he'll come for you if you remember your past, right? Well then, you'll have to convince whoever this person is by pretending you've moved on in life," Kyle states firmly, taking my hand and intertwining our fingers. "To go to great lengths to keep tabs on you, someone must have a feud with your mother. And you must have known something too, before the car accident. Who do you think is behind this? Do you remember anything?"

I try my best to recall, but nothing comes to my mind. "I don't remember, but I reckon it has to be related to my dad. In fact, I'm positive it's him. He's the only one that has been giving me the creepy vibes."

However, Kyle frowns at my assumption. "Riley, let's not rule out another possibility."

"Another possibility?"

He pauses for a second, hesitating. "I'm just saying this, but maybe it's not your dad. It's somebody else. Your mother wasn't reclusive. She would have known a bunch of people when she was alive."

Fear trickles through me, and my breaths are coming short and fast. I can't stand the thought of me being on the radar of several people. "No, no... That's not–"

"Calm down, Riley. You're hyperventilating." Kyle shifts me around so that I'm practically curled up on his lap like a child. He holds me to his chest and lets his hand pat my back in soothing circles. "Relax and breathe."

I do as he says, feeling embarrassment crawling up my neck. "S-sorry."

He presses a kiss on my forehead. "Don't worry, it's normal to be afraid. I'll be even more worried if you don't show any signs like this."

We sit in silence for a minute; Kyle holding me as I recollect my thoughts. Something clicks in my head and I almost leap off the bed in agitation, if not for him holding me in place. "Maybe this is all my dad's doing. Maybe he wants to scare me badly so that I will take up his offer and leave Lakeshore to live with him."

"That's possible," he agrees and lets out a sigh. "I guess we'll never know unless we speak to him in person. Only he has the answers that we want."

He might be right. "But how do we contact a man when we don't have his number?" And I remember the plane ticket my dad gave me. "Do we really have to wait until the departure date arrives so that we can meet him at the airport?"

"No..." Kyle frowns as an idea lights up his eyes. "His name is Marcus Wade, isn't it?" he asks, and I confirm it with a nod. "Leave it to me. My dad has his sources. I'll find it out for you."

I'm surprised. "You will? That's possible?"

He nods. "Of course. Didn't you used to say my dad is a mafia's boss? Hunting down a man is going to be such a simple task for him."

Red blooms across my cheeks at his teasing. "Ugh, Kyle!"

He chortles at my embarrassment and stands up to place me on my feet. "You look cute when you get all flared up. Like an angry chick."

Cheeks flushing, I grab my pillow and hit him with a warning look. "Stop teasing me."

"Alright, alright." He grabs both my wrists to stop my assault. "But you're feeling better now, right? Come on, let's get out of the house."

He tugs me to the door, but I skid to a stop and pull him back. My body's as stiff as a wooden log. "Out?"

"You heard me right the first time." When he sees fear and hesitation reflecting in my eyes, he takes me by my shoulders and holds my gaze firmly. "Just because you've been receiving threats doesn't mean your life has to change. You cannot hide forever in the house, Riley. Don't give in to the person by letting him have control over you. Show this guy that you're strong. Prove to him you're not the frail person he thinks you are."

Emotions bubble up my throat, threatening tears to form in my eyes. I don't know how Kyle always does it, but his words are a breath of fresh air through the waters that have swallowed me whole. He has always been helping me to keep a clear head and holding me strong on my feet. Without him, what would I have become?

I have to be strong. Not just for my sake, but for everybody who has been by my side.

"Kyle?"

"Yes?"

"You know you're the best boyfriend ever, right?"

He grins at me. "I absolutely love hearing that line. Say it again?"

I shake my head at him in disbelief but still comply with his shameless request—by rising to my toes and placing a kiss on his lips, vaguely aware of his startled yet happy reaction.

***

We find ourselves at the movie theaters, along with Blaire and Ian. They're calling it a double date and honestly? I love the idea of spending time with my boyfriend and friends. Normalcy is something I've always been yearning for. Today, I'm casting aside all my troubles to let loose and have fun.

They are bickering over which movies to watch — horror or action. When we cast our votes, the latter wins. Blaire's clearly disappointed because she can't witness me behaving like a wimp again, but she gives in.

"You guys are buying me caramel popcorn."

Kyle arches a brow at her. "Not the salted ones?"

"Ew," she pulls a face. "Who eats that?"

"Oh, they are for salty people," he jokes. "Like you."

She rolls her eyes. "Puh-lease. You can't be any worse than me."

"Am I?" He turns to me instead and Blaire follows suit. Suddenly, both of them are having me decide—boyfriend versus best friend. "Who's worse between us?"

Flustered, I shoot Ian a look for help, but he raises his hands and retreats. "I'll die a horrible death than you if I answer that question in your stead—so nope."

"Ugh!" I turn back to the expectant Kyle and Blaire, taking their hands and forcing them to shake them in reconciliation. "No fighting, kids. Or no popcorn for either of you."

They pout at me before glaring at each other. The boys get into the queue for the tickets and popcorn. Kyle shoots me a worried look as we girls head to the nearest restroom, but I wave at him to tell him I'll be fine. I'm not alone.

I listen to Blaire as she grumbles over a tummy ache. "I blame it all on the Thai green curry," she sniffs from inside the cubicle. "Ian has been wanting to try out interesting food recently."

I wince on her behalf. I've never tried green curry before, and the sound of it intimidates me. "That was very adventurous of you guys."

"I'm regretting it right now," she groans. "Unlike Ian, my stomach's pretty delicate. Foreign food entering my stomach makes me squeamish all the time. That boy... If only he knows how far I'm going just to make him happy."

I chuckle and pinch my nose. "I'll wait outside, Blaire. Don't die on me."

She gives me another half-groan like she's being strangled to death. While waiting, I text Aunt Abbie to let her know I won't be returning home for dinner. Typing mid-sentence, someone knocks into my shoulder from behind and I hold on to the wall beside me for support, almost dropping my phone. When I glance up, I stare at the back of a tall man, his face concealed by a cap. For some strange reason, he has a hoodie over his head even though we are indoors, making it even harder to discern his features.

"Sorry," he grunts.

"Oh, it's alright—"

He dips his head and hurries down the corridor, disappearing from my sight. He's gone before I know it, looking like he's in a hurry. I brush off the matter quickly, thinking it's just an accident, except that something strikes me as peculiar.

His voice.

I swear I heard it before from somewhere.