6. Aurora
6
Aurora
The morning is hot today.
Unlike the usual chilly dawns, the air feels sticky.
Humid.
Yesterday felt like a dream, unreal.
It’s left my body on high alert, making sleeping in an impossible task.
Pulling my eyes from the ceiling, I look next to me at the empty spot on my bed.
A part of me thought Rocco would sneak into my room in the middle of the night and claim the spot.
My heart flutters at first before feeling heavy.
My expectations are built on what I’ve watched in the past. Not just the adult films that make me aroused, but romantic films that end with happily ever afters.
I don’t even know if a man like Rocco can experience a happy ending.
Outside of that heated moment, every time I’ve looked his way, he’s had this look in his eye.
A look of pain. One of hatred, for no one but himself.
My brother has the very same, but at least he tries to hide it from me.
A sigh slips from my lips as I push upright, the sheets pooling around my waist. Outside, dawn lingers in that fragile, half-born state—just a sliver of gold bleeding through the trees, too pale yet to burn away the remnants of night.
Too early. Far too early.
I drag myself from bed, my bare feet hitting cool hardwood.
The air nips at my sleep-warmed skin as I pad out of my room, desperate for something—anything—to douse this lingering heat.
A glass of ice water.
A cold shower.
As long as I avoid the place I know where Rocco is sleeping, I should succeed.
Ending up in the kitchen, I smell coffee already brewed.
The bitterness makes my nose wrinkle, but it’s not the scent that makes me want to avoid the room.
Ren is leaning against the island, a tired expression on his face.
How am I supposed to meet his gaze after what I’ve done?
He won’t let Rocco stay if he finds out.
I don’t want him to leave.
Not yet.
The floorboard creaks under my weight, and he turns slowly, like it takes effort.
His eyes are laid bare without his eyepatch: one dark brown, sharp even in exhaustion; the other milky white, adrift.
Both find me anyway.
Always find me.
His face is all hollows and shadows in the dim light.
He looks wrecked. Then again, he always does.
“You’re up early.” His mouth quips up, his gaze softening.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I admit as I drift past him to get some juice.
Grabbing a glass, I pause at the paper hanging on our fridge.
A torn, crumpled sheet with fancy cursive.
A wedding invitation.
Camellia Parada’s name and a man’s I don’t recognize.
Rocco’s sister. This wasn’t here the day before.
It looks like it belongs in the trash.
Why did Ren hang it up?
He’s scrolling through his phone, his finger flicking across the screen as he mindlessly sips at his drink.
Humming in the back of my throat, I fill my cup with juice and take the seat across from him.
The silence feels heavier than normal.
It’s the guilt of hiding a secret from him, I’m sure of it.
“He’s not causing any issues for you, is he?” Despite asking the question, he doesn’t lift his gaze.
“I’m sure he’s disrupted the peace you’re used to.”
The peace I hate, actually.
But I can’t possibly tell him that.
Not while he works so hard to keep me safe from harm, ensuring that I’m comfortable.
“It’s nice having someone around,” I confess as I mumble against the glass.
“How long will he be staying?”
I can’t sound too hopeful.
Ren is smart. He’ll know why my voice wavers or why my eyes fall in disappointment.
Once he puts the pieces together, Rocco will be gone.
“As long as he needs to, I guess.” Sucking on his teeth, he sighs into his coffee.
“I didn’t mean to throw him here without warning. He just…”
My brother looks frustrated with himself.
I’ve been the only person Ren’s gone out of his way for.
It’s amazing watching him get worked up because of another person.
“You’ve never mentioned him before.” Cradling my glass, I sneak in my curiosity.
“How are you two so close? How did you meet?”
His mouth twitches with amusement.
Okay, maybe I’m not as sneaky as I want to be.
“You were just a kid at the time. Doesn’t surprise me that you don’t remember him. Then again, he didn’t look like he had a stick up his ass during our teenage years.” He snorts at the memory, a good one for him.
“Back then, our families wanted to create ties, bonds.”
Ren might keep me in the dark about how things are run now, but the past?
That, I remember.
Too well.
Late nights with our mother hovering over our father’s slumped form.
The rough ones—when the liquor burned hotter than his temper, and the walls shook with things I wasn’t supposed to hear.
Drifting my hands to my lap, I dig my nails into my thighs as I remember the painful nights, too.
The ones where I bit the inside of my cheek until it bled.
Before Ren knew that our mother wasn’t the only one in the path of those drunk rages.
But my smile never wavers.
It’s practiced. Perfect.
It keeps him talking, even when every word feels like a splinter under my fingernail.
I want to listen. I do.
Even if the past tastes like blood on my tongue.
“We didn’t get close until after I took over. Back then, he had a loving family. He didn’t need to dirty his hands, not yet. If it weren’t for him getting thrown in the position with poor preparation, if he didn’t come to me for help…” Ren sighs again, his smile melting away.
“He wouldn’t have made it to where he is today.”
“What happened? Why did he–”
My brother scowls, his eye darkening as he stares blankly at his phone.
“His father was murdered. He had no choice.”
Ren and Rocco are practically twins.
Two sides of the same coin.
Does that mean…
“Did he—”
“He didn’t,” he quickly answers.
“Someone else took out his father. Elio was…”
I watch the way his face pinches up, and I can see the wall he’s suddenly building.
“Honestly, the details are grotesque. You don’t want to know, seriously.” He forces a laugh and brings his cups to his lips, drinking his coffee.
I’m willing to bet it’s cold.
He’s always wanted to keep me in the dark about the fine details of the lives we grew up in.
Ren can’t always be the one to protect me from the shadows.
I’m an adult, not the tear-eyed little girl I used to be when it was just us against the world.
I can handle myself.
When it involves Rocco, I want to know what I’m getting myself into.
I don’t think the damaged man is going to reveal the information himself.
“Renato, I want to know.” My frown matches his, our stubbornness equal.
Finally, my face softens.
“Please.”
“I don’t want you to be scared of our guest,” he shoots back, refusing.
Fear is the last emotion that man is going to draw from me, that’s for sure.
“He can’t be that bad if you left him here with me.” Jutting my chin, I cross my arms across my chest.
Cursing under his breath, he sighs.
“Fine. But don’t even think about locking yourself in your room when I leave again.”
Nodding in agreement, my brother continues.
“Elio was not a cruel man. He loved his kids. Hell, he took me in a few nights when Rocco and I were still befriending each other. Maybe he had selfish intentions, or maybe he had a good heart. Either way, he cared about his family. Loved them in a way many would call a weakness. Like how I love you.”
Meaning, Rocco’s father was overly protective, stopping at nothing for their happiness.
He tells me about Rocco’s mother.
About her affair with another man behind his father’s back during his youthful years.
He mentions Camellia’s name again, his half-sister, a bastard child.
But to Elio, she was his.
His princess. An anomaly in what typically happens when such betrayal takes place.
“She looked identical to their mother,” he explains, his eyes going off in a daze.
“Down to those same cold blue eyes. Appearance-wise, they could’ve been twins. Personality-wise, opposites. His sister was sweet. His mother?”
He doesn’t finish.
Doesn’t need to.
The silence says it all.
“Camellia found Elio dead, poisoned. Rocco discovered their mother had been the one behind it. Rumours spread like wildfire before that Camellia’s real father went missing after her birth, and more whispers came out that she had been planning his demise since.”
I hold my breath.
“And what did Rocco do?”
Ren squints, his lips parting.
“I killed her.” Behind us, a tired voice speaks out.
“Then staged her disappearance as a runaway case. The bitch got off easy for what she did to us.”
We both jerk, taking him in.
Hovering in the archway of the kitchen, it’s unknown how long Rocco’s been listening.
“She admitted what she’d done, claiming that my family had ruined her happiness.” Lifting away from the arch, he approaches us.
“Rocco,” Ren starts, warning in his voice.
He doesn’t care. He’s got that darkness in his eyes as he stares only at me.
“I snapped. Strangled her until she stopped begging me for her life.” Reaching the island, he leans against it and jerks his head toward Ren.
“At the time, I’d never dealt with a dead body before. Didn’t know what to do with her. So I went to someone who has. Someone who is all familiar with dealing with killing his own.”
My breath catches in my throat as his upper lip curls, the memory not a good one for anyone involved.
Ren killed our father for good reason.
Our mother had already run away long before.
He didn’t have anyone to direct his anger at, and I was right there.
Like mother, like daughter.
I don’t like the memory.
It’s one I’ve purposely blocked out.
Moving out here made it easier, and now I understand why Ren’s tried so hard to keep me away from it all.
The past was terrifying.
Haunting.
The fight that broke out.
The yelling. Ren lost his eye, but the loss of our father was greater.
I barely hear the sound of my brother’s chair scraping back before I see him on the move.
“Aurora, leave.” My brother isn’t polite, the order is a demand.
He doesn’t want me to see him get violent.
Not after last time.
“She’s not a fucking child,” Rocco barks out a laugh, finally tearing his eyes away from me.
“She’s a full-grown woman, trust me—”
I gasp as I hear the sound of bone against flesh.
I can’t even blink before my brother swings his fist, hitting our guest.
“What did you do?” The words come seething, and in this moment, there isn’t any exhaustion on his face.
It’s something darker.
As he watches Rocco stumble and hit the ground, his fingers curl and uncurl like he’s debating how he wants to do a final blow.
I knew this was going to happen.
The last man who’d put his hands on me ended up bloodied.
“You want to die that badly? When in the fuck did you become such a coward?”
Rocco doesn’t deny his claims as he sits on the floor, and my chest hurts.
My legs shake as I move.
I don’t think as I put myself between both of them before my brother can do more damage.
Between them, my breath comes out shaky.
“Please stop. Ren, please. ”
When I look over my shoulder, Rocco doesn’t meet my gaze.
He looks frustrated.
Angry . But at whom?
He stays on the ground, cradling his cheek.
Already, the skin is swelling.
“Don’t go telling people stories that aren’t yours to tell.”
Ren’s nostrils flare, and his knuckles grow pale from how tight his fists are.
“You’re a grown man. The past is in the past. Get the hell over it.”
He wants to do more, I can see it on his face.
I’ve seen him angry before.
When he doesn’t think I’m looking, I am.
Even if I don’t understand these bonds and ties, I know Ren wouldn’t forgive himself if he shattered this relationship because of the heat of the moment.
A shaky breath rattles through me before I pivot, my knees hitting the ground hard enough to bruise.
Rocco flinches when I reach for him, but I don’t stop.
My fingers brush his swollen cheek, feather-light.
“It’s not his fault.” The words scrape my throat raw.
“I asked. I wanted to know.”
I can see the emotions in his eyes.
Not just pain and anger, but something deeper.
Buried under everything, pushed to the surface.
Vulnerability.
While Ren chokes out my name, I turn toward him.
“If you hurt him any more, I won’t forgive you.” Keeping my voice steady and firm, I turn back and ignore anything Ren has to say.
“The next time I want to know something, I’ll come to you.”
With my promise settling in the still air, I can already tell I’m going to have to push to keep him around until he can forgive himself for his past.
Even if my brother is on edge now, there’s no better person to get him there.