Chapter 35 Shower Confessional – Aurora
SHOWER CONFESSIONAL
AURORA
Imanage to keep it together for the entire drive back to my apartment. The driver doesn't try to make conversation at all this time and I don't even mutter a goodbye as I exit the car before he can get my door for me, too afraid to open my mouth.
The key to the apartment clicks against the lock panel as I struggle to stuff it into the keyhole, hands shaking.
Come on.
Come on.
Once I'm in, I don't waste time getting my coat and boots off, so, so fucking grateful Céline is still out walking Ellie. With any luck she'll stay out a while longer.
I make it to the bathroom, fingers clumsy and stomach heaving as I fumble with the silencer.
I manage to get it open and on before it all comes up, but I wasn't fast enough to get to my knees in front of the toilet.
The mess hits the shower curtain and I grip the porcelain bowl as my body heaves a second time, expelling the lunch I forced myself to robotically eat after Ambrose showed me the documents on his phone.
Five fucking courses.
And all of them exit the way they came in.
When my body is completely wrung out and there isn't any more I could possibly get out, the weight of it all hits me like a sledgehammer to the chest.
I know who my parents are, and one of them is likely dead and the other is a monster.
The same monster who hurt the men that I…love.
At the door, Céline comes in with Ellie and I kick the door to the bathroom shut, completely unable to stop the pathetic gasping sobs spasming in my chest.
Leave.
Please, just leave.
Ellie barks at the bathroom door and I want to scream.
"Aurora?"
I push the toe of my boot against the door since the stupid thing doesn't lock, but she rattles the handle, trying to come in.
"It's okay," I croak between heavy, watery sobs. "I'm fine."
"You are not. Open the door."
Ellie whines and Céline leads her away. I hear a door close and hope she's left with Ellie again, but then the door pushes against my boot, harder this time, and I don't have the fucking strength to fight her right now.
Céline slips through the door, gasping when she sees me on the floor. I can't meet her eyes as she folds herself onto her knees and gathers me into her arms. I wish she wouldn't because that only makes the tears come harder.
I try to stay quiet—I don't want to scare Ellie in the other room—and Céline hushes me, rubbing my back, whispering calming words I don't understand in French as I come apart.
Her phone rings incessantly in her pocket and on the third time, once I've regained the ability to breathe without gasping, she grumbles and plucks it out.
"It's the boys," she whispers. "I should—"
I snatch the phone from her and silence it, shaking my head. "No, don't."
"What is it, child?"
"Th-they can't know," I urge her. "You can't tell them."
The soft wrinkles around her eyes deepen as she looks at me. "Aurora, I couldn't tell them what's going on here because I don't know. Talk to me. What happened?"
I shake my head, scattering tears, and drop my head. "No, it doesn't matter."
She lifts my chin, and the way she looks at me, with so much fierce care and empathy, I understand why the guys love her so much. Why they trust her above any others. Céline may have lost her own children, but she's still a mother.
"If it made you this upset, then it does matter."
"I can't…"
Her lips press into a hard line and her brows draw down. "You don't know me as well as the boys do," she says quietly. "But if there's one thing I am very good at, it is keeping a secret."
I frown. "I can't ask you to hide something from them. I wouldn't."
"You didn't. Is it something that would cause them harm?"
I shake my head. This truth won't hurt them. Not physically.
"Then you can tell me and you have my word I will not tell them."
She nods encouragingly.
"I don't know what you know," I mutter, sniffing as I pull back and sit heavily against the wall.
"I know they're trying to get something back which was stolen from them—from the man who hurt Elijah. I know you are helping them, as I am by being here."
I nod.
"That man," I start, the words scraping from my chest. "I found out that man…is my father."
Her lips part and she says nothing for a long, long moment. Then she places a hand on my knee.
"We do not have to carry the sins of our fathers, Aurora."
Then why is the weight of this so fucking heavy?
"Do you feel any sense of kinship with this man? Of loyalty? Would you choose him over Elijah, Atticus, and Seven?"
The suggestion is so laughable that I don't even feel the need to respond to it.
"Then it doesn't matter," she says when she reads the expression on my face. "It only matters if you make it matter. Blood does not always equal family. Look at me. I would do anything for those boys. Anything. They aren't my sons, but for me at least, they're family."
A sad smile tugs at one corner of my mouth, and she gives my knee a squeeze. "And now, that extends to you."
She pulls some toilet paper from the roll and dabs the tears from my cheeks.
"I won't tell them," she assures me. "But you should. You may not think they'll accept it, but I know they will."
When she's finished, she hands me the slip of paper for me to blow my nose as her phone starts to ring again.
Atticus is probably losing his mind. I was supposed to reach out to them using the burner phone and silencer as soon as I got back.
"You can answer it," I tell Céline. "Tell him I'm fine and I'll call in a few minutes."
She nods and gets to her feet, extending a hand to help me up.
She holds it in hers for a moment longer once I'm standing. "I can only imagine what you must be feeling."
Céline knows a bit about my history. We talked for hours while she colored, cut, and styled my hair in Paris.
So when she says it, I know she means it.
What orphaned child wouldn't imagine one day finding out their parent never stopped trying to get back to them?
It's a dream shared in some form or another by every other kid I met in the foster system.
"Yes?" Céline says as she picks up the phone. "Yes, she's here."
A pause.
"She's fine. No, Atticus, she's in the bathroom. No, I will not go get her. She said she'll call you in a few minutes."
Vaguely, I hear Atticus still trying to argue on the other end, and I almost cave and tell her to give me the phone, but she surprises me by hanging up mid-Atty-rant.
"That boy needs to learn some patience."
I let out a watery laugh. "He means well."
"And don't I know it. But his delivery could use some work."
Now I laugh in earnest, not because she's right, even though she is, but because I just defended him.
I need to get my head on straight before I totally lose my mind.
"I'll leave you to it."
I point to the silencer. "We should…"
She nods, and I shut it off.
"There you are," she says right away, in a suddenly near-perfect American accent, and I get the sense she's helped the guys more than she let on in the 'old days' they're always talking about. Céline is good at this.
"Hi, sorry, I don't think lunch agreed with me."
"Poor dear. Do you want me to come back and walk Ellie again later for you?"
"That's okay. I've got it. Some air might help."
"And you're away this week, right?"
Céline gives me a coy look, and I should be happy that I'm going to spend the week with the guys, but the reminder makes me want to throw up again.
"Yeah. I'm back Friday for Halloween, though. There's a party I promised to go to with a friend. I might need help with Ellie that evening if you can?"
Her brow crinkles, trying to tell if I'm serious or if this is part of the acting. I nod to tell her I am serious and she nods back.
"Of course I can. Let me know what time."
"I will."
"Have fun this week!"
When she leaves, I wonder if maybe it's best to cancel the whole thing. It was going to be really hard for Atticus to swing it without drawing suspicion anyway.
I drag my sorry ass to the bedroom, and am greeted by Ellie, who comes to see if I'm all right with some tentative face kisses as I fold myself onto my knees in front of the bed and dig for the burner phone between the mattresses.
There's a slew of texts waiting for me when I open it.
Multiple ones asking how it went, requesting a debrief, getting progressively more concerned as they pop up onto the screen and vanish one by one.
The last one isn't as concerned, and I know this one came in after Céline told Atticus that I was fine and hung up on him.
Unknown
Sorry. We can debrief when you get home. Your ride will be there at six sharp. Be ready to go.
Please.
The nicety as an afterthought is so Atticus that I roll my eyes. I should be annoyed, but the still aching thing in my chest squeezes, and I don't know why. I blame the fact that my entire worldview just tilted, and I still don't have my feet under me.
My fingers hover over the keys.
Sounds like Atty managed to find a way to bring me home for the break, like he promised. I guess it's too late to cancel now…
I bite the dry skin on my lower lip, and slowly type my reply.
Aurora
I'll be ready.
I'm about to tuck the phone away again when another message pops up.
Unknown
Are you okay, Trouble?
I hesitate, and my eyes burn again, but I refuse to let even one more tear fall.
I'm not this pathetic person. I left her in Amherst when I left Jesse. She's dead and buried. I had front-row seats to her funeral, and that casket is staying in the dirt where it belongs.
I forgot who the fuck I am, but I remember now. And I won't forget again.
My eyes stop burning, and my stomach settles as I unclench my body, softening everywhere except the one place I need to keep hardened.
Am I okay?
I type out the reply.
Aurora
Yes.
See you in a few hours.