1. Aurora
ONE YEAR LATER
I ’m a good girl. That’s what people always say about me. That I’m kind, sweet, polite, they comment on my good grades and my volunteer work, and say I’m a credit to my family, and most people would agree with that statement, and I am all of those things. There is just one little problem:
I’m in love with my stepbrother. And his two best friends.
That’s not very ‘good girl’ of me now, is it?
Everest Monroe, my stepbrother, my first love, my first enemy.
The boy who used to let me sneak into his room during every thunderstorm, now he’s a man who acts like I don’t even exist. His once warm presence in my life is now nothing but a cold shoulder that I have to beg for attention from, and I don’t even know why.
Everest came into my life after my parents got divorced, and though I was too young to fully understand what that really meant, I just knew that my mom and dad seemed happier apart.
Then it wasn’t long before my mom met David.
My stepfather is a great man, a good father, and absolutely perfect for my mother.
They fell for one another hard and fast, and seeing them together never bothered me, because one moment it was just my brother Archer and I, and the next we had Everest.
He came along and it was like our family was finally complete, and with him came his two best friends.
Griffin Blake is the fire to his ice. He’s popular, loud, brash, outgoing, slightly dangerous, and a massive playboy. He’s everything you’d expect from a privileged son born to wealthy parents, and he doesn’t care who knows it.
Harden Haze is their silent sounding board. The boy who gave me my first kiss and stole my heart with nothing but regret. He’s dark, damaged, and doesn’t care if the world and everyone in it burns, as long as he’s the one who can light the match.
The three of them together were my protectors, they cared for me, watched over me, I thought they may have even loved me, but then they left for college and everything changed.
It’s been a year of unanswered texts and calls, of not coming home for holidays, acting like I don’t exist. Except now I’m here with them and they can’t avoid me forever.
Fairfield is a small town, Fairfield University is even smaller, so they won’t ignore me, not again, not this time.
The party is in full swing by the time I get to their house, because of course it is, they live on Hockey Row, why wouldn’t it be?
It’s barely 11pm but there are still people spilling across the lawn, drunkenly talking and making out, and I ignore them all as I stride up the path and push inside.
The house isn’t much better, the same house my other brother Archer once resided in.
Except now any trace of him and his team has been erased, aside from the hot tub that still sits on the back deck.
No, instead it’s my other brother who lives and of course parties here now, him and his friends.
I spy some of their teammates hanging around the kitchen island and living room, their faces familiar enough, but none of them are the three guys I’m looking for.
Pushing through the writhing bodies, I grab myself an unopened bottle of beer from an ice bucket, slamming it down on the edge of the counter to crack open the cap, before taking a slow drink and surveying my surroundings.
I hate parties, I always have, but after what happened at my mother’s charity event when I was sixteen, I have avoided them altogether, until now that is.
No, now I won’t leave until I set eyes on my stupid brother and his dumb friends.
It isn’t long before I hear one of them, not surprised in the slightest that it’s Griffin’s deep laugh, carrying in over the music from the back deck.
He always is the life of the party. I follow the familiar sound, trying not to let myself be stunned at the sight of him after so long, I mean, it’s not like I haven’t seen him in pictures.
His brown hair still shines bright, even under the dull light of the moon, and his whiskey-colored eyes are sharp even in his no doubt drunken haze.
He’s so familiar yet feels like a stranger at the same time, but when his eyes meet mine in surprise, it’s as if the last year apart just melts away.
“Rora,” he yells in both question and greeting, my nickname sounding like a prayer falling from his lips, as he pushes away from the multiple girls that were at his side and strides toward me without pause.
I don’t know what I expected when I saw him, but it wasn’t this.
When he reaches me, his arms are around me before I can stop them, and he is picking me up and spinning me in his embrace like old times.
“Fuck, I missed you.” His words are grunted into my hair, and tears burn the back of my eyes at his admission, because I’ve missed him too, all of them.
“But what the hell are you doing here?” he asks, not a hint of hostility in his tone, as he drops me back to my feet and searches my stare with his.
“He won’t like this,” he adds quietly, and I can smell the liquor on his breath, burning me almost as much as his last four words.
“Then it’s a good thing I don’t give a fuck what he likes.” My words are curt, as I shove him away from me, only now just catching Harden’s eyes from across the deck, where he sits silently nursing a drink.
Unlike Griffin he doesn’t have a horde of girls around him, even though, with his blond hair and green eyes, he is just as striking as his friend, but it’s as if people can detect the sadness that pours out of him in waves.
There is actually a physical gap between him and the nearest person, just how he likes. Except when it used to be us .
I don’t bother holding his stare, as I flick my eyes back to Griffin, noting the bottle of vodka in his hand.
“I can see you haven’t changed,” I add, snatching the bottle from between his fingers and draining a few mouthfuls, more than I would in other circumstances, but right now I need the courage.
The sting of the group of girls, now all staring at me because I have stolen the attention of their favorite toy, is rough, and I have to fight not to fidget.
Especially when Griffin lets his stare drop down my body slowly.
“I wish I could say the same, sweetheart,” he grunts, taking in the short black dress I’m wearing, that I’ve paired with some stiletto boots.
It’s nothing like how I used to dress, but I’m not the little girl he remembers.
“Come on, let’s go have a game and catch up,” he adds, tossing his arm around my shoulder, nodding at Harden to follow, as he leads us back inside and down to the basement.
For a moment it feels like nothing's changed, but deep down I know everything has.
Like the house, the basement hasn’t changed much, it still has a couple of sofas and a small table, though they are different from the last time I was here, and I’m glad to find a pool table has been added along one of the walls.
There are people scattered around, drinking and having fun, just not as many as upstairs, and I find my heart rate settles a little.
Especially as Griffin moves to set up the table, his glare alone making those who were already playing abandon their game, as Harden slides up beside me.
He doesn’t say anything of course, and he especially doesn’t touch me or try to hug me or greet me in any manner, but still his silent and unwavering presence next to me is something I’ve missed deeply.
He’s always been calm to his own storm and I was always an unwavering mountain that he could never move.
“You stopped writing,” I whisper, trying not to let myself sound too hurt by that fact, and I swear his mask slips just for a second when I look at him, showing a fraction of emotion from his otherwise black heart, before he hides it again without any kind of response.
I scoff at his silence, as I tip back more of the vodka, wishing I’d just stayed in my dorm instead and let this fucking wound between us all fester even more.
Ever and I grew up together, our bond was quick, easy, simple, or so I thought, but my bond with his friends was different, slower.
It began with Griffin first, as soon as Everest started bringing him over to the house he introduced himself, and I was entranced instantly by his outgoing personality, endless stories, and his slight penchant for danger.
He would bring me candy bars and sneak me out of bed to watch the stars down by the pool, all the while telling me he would marry me one day.
He would laugh at my jokes and taunt Everest whenever he was in a mood, and would genuinely just make me feel like I was someone’s first choice.
He’s my best friend, or at least he was, but he’s also Everest’s too, and that has always been the problem.
With Harden it was slower, quieter, which isn’t a surprise given his disorder.
He has selective mutism, which wasn’t as severe when we were younger, but it seems to have gotten worse as the years have gone by.
In all the time I’ve known him, I have still only heard him utter a few words or phrases, and it isn’t often, and though I know he talks more in front of the guys, it isn’t much.
Our friendship started on Post-It notes.
I would sneak them into his bag when he first started coming over, featuring dumb questions like what was his favorite color or movie and stuff, but it soon turned into more.
The years went by and the Post-Its turned to letters, one a week, sometimes more if things were really bad for him, but I haven’t received one now in almost ten months, and I pretend it doesn’t break my heart as we stand here without a word left between us.