Chapter 20 Aurora
AURORA
Be light.
Be light and push through the cracks.
I watch the clouds through the window of the jet and repeat the words over and over in my head like a mantra. I can do that. I can be light. I can get myself out of this mess. I just need to have courage, even if I have to fake it.
I can do it. I can be light.
I run my palm over the smooth cover of my new notebook.
Hand-bound, brown vegan leather, and deckled edges.
I bought it from a small stationery boutique in Adelaide, and the purchase felt like a promise.
A promise that maybe the dreams I’d once had could be revived.
Like there was still hope in who I used to be.
Who I could maybe become, if I just tried.
But then later that afternoon, I stared at the blank page for an hour before sliding it back into my bag without writing a thing. My new pen never graced the page.
The words are there. I can hear them at the edge of my consciousness, but I can’t grasp them.
Not yet. It’s frustrating, but it’s also exciting.
It’s been a long time since poetry was even a whisper in my mind, and right now, it’s humming.
Buzzing. Out of reach, but louder and more present than it’s been in four years. It’s not much, but it’s something.
I lean back against the headrest and close my eyes.
My breathing is calm and steady. I focus on that.
On how much better I’ve gotten at flying.
Every flight has been a little easier. I’m adjusting, and it’s proof that I can grow.
I’m proud of myself for that. I pull confidence from it, as much as possible, and I hold on as tightly as I can.
Again, it’s not much, but it’s better than nothing, and I’m going to need all the help I can get.
“Fuckin’ ace, innit?”
Crue’s arm lands heavily around my shoulders as we stand on the stone-paved path, staring up at the three-story beachfront villa Sav rented for our stay in Sydney. It’s gorgeous and huge, and just like with the lodge in Adelaide, it almost doesn’t feel real.
“Yeah,” I breathe out. “Ace.”
“Think we can get surfboards?”
I look toward the voice beside me and find the lead guitarist for Caveat Lover peering at us through aviator sunglasses.
“You can surf?”
He grins. “I could surf before I could walk.”
I narrow my eyes in question and tilt my head to the side. “I don’t think that’s physically possible.”
“It is if you’re surfing Santa Monica beaches.”
Beckett Walker, Caveat Lover’s bassist, steps in front of us, smirking at Rocky.
“Fuck you.” Rocky sings the words, then lifts his hand and brandishes his middle finger inches from Beckett’s face. “You don’t get an opinion, Walker. You spend all your beach time worrying about tan lines.”
Beckett puckers his lips and kisses Rocky’s finger. “You like my tan lines.”
I have half a second to analyze their interaction before Ezra pushes his way between them and wraps his arms around their necks.
“You guys can’t surf here. Don’t you know about the sharks? Shark attacks are disproportionately high in Australia compared to other countries. You want to lose a leg?”
“I could still play without a leg,” Rocky says, and Ezra groans.
“You want to lose an arm?”
“You’re more likely to be killed by a kangaroo than a shark, dummy,” Brynn says from behind us, and we all turn to face her.
She’s scowling at Ezra before turning a kinder expression on Rocky.
“Don’t listen to him. Odds of a shark attack are low, and Dad already said I could go if you went with me. ”
Rocky laughs, shrugs out of Ezra’s hold, and walks to Brynn. He reaches out and ruffles her hair. She pretends to gag, but she doesn’t push him away.
“C’mon, kid. Let’s go find some boards.”
“Yes!”
As they leave, she turns and sticks her tongue out at Ezra, and I watch him do the same in return.
“If you lose an arm, I’m not going to feel sorry for you, Boss!” He shakes his head with a sigh. “No one ever listens to me.”
“Last time I listened to you, I singed off my eyebrows and eyelashes,” Crue deadpans.
“You prove my point, wanker. If you’d listened to me, that wouldn’t have happened.” Ezra waves him off, then takes off at a jog toward the house. “I call dibs on the primary!”
I look between Crue and Beckett. “Is it always chaotic like this?”
“Yes.”
“Nah.”
They speak at the same time, and I smile. “Perfect answer.”
We head into the house, and everyone disperses down hallways and up staircases.
I stop in the foyer and stare awkwardly.
We were given no direction like at the lodge.
No room assignments. Am I supposed to just call dibs?
The thought makes me nervous. That might work for Ezra, but there’s no way I could do that.
I’d just as soon sleep outside and take my chances with a kangaroo.
“Hey. You good?”
I turn around and find Mabel standing in the doorway. I shrug.
“What exactly am I supposed to do?”
“Well, it’s a bit of a free for all at the moment, but everyone is claiming rooms.”
My shoulders slump, and she smiles before stepping beside me and jutting her chin toward the staircase.
“C’mon. We can do it together. The house is huge, and there’s a pool house, too. That’s where the Caveat boys will stay.”
“But Ezra called dibs on the primary bedroom.”
Mabel laughs. “He’ll be corralled.”
On the upper level, I find Claire, Jonah, and their daughter already in one room, then another room occupied by Brynnlee. Mabel leans closer and lowers her voice.
“The trick is knowing who is safe to room beside.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if you’re next to Claire and Jo, you risk hearing Teddy in the middle of the night. She’s usually a pretty good sleeper, but it’s always a gamble.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“Brynn is always safe, and so are Sav and Levi. Ziggy will bark sometimes in the morning when she needs to pee, but not often. You want to avoid Callie and Torren at all costs, though. Hopefully there’s a lower-level room they can stay in.”
“What? Why?”
“That way they can fuck without us having to hear it.”
I snort an awkward laugh and try to act cool despite the heat rushing to my cheeks. “So? I can wear my headphones for fifteen minutes.”
Mabel smirks. “Try all night.”
I’m nearly bowled over with shock, and my next sentence escapes in a squeaky, whispered rush.
“They have sex all night?”
I can feel my eyebrows practically in my hairline, and Mabel glances at me curiously.
“Yeah. Headboard banging and moaning you can hear through a cinderblock wall.”
The look on my face must be a doozy because she steps closer and lowers her voice.
“What? You look shocked as hell.”
I dart my eyes around the hallway to make sure we’re alone—I hadn’t even noticed we’d turned a corner—and try not to dwell on the fact that the tips of my ears are on fire.
I wouldn’t be able to confess this to anyone else, but Mabel has never once judged me.
In fact, I feel more comfortable with her than I have with anyone else in years.
Maybe with anyone else ever. She knows more about me than even my own husband, and she makes me feel safe and normal.
It makes me want to tell her everything just to hear her confirm that I’m not a complete failure of a human.
Unlike Brady, Mabel doesn’t get condescending when I ask questions or get confused. She doesn’t jump on opportunities to patronize or belittle me. She makes me feel heard and seen. She makes me feel worthy, and it’s something I didn’t know I’d been needing.
I take a step closer, check the hallway once again to be absolutely certain no one will overhear, and lower my voice.
“I just...I guess I didn’t know people actually did that.”
“Did what? Have sex?”
“No, I know people have sex. But for that long? And so loud people can hear you? Hours? Headboards banging? That’s movie and book stuff. That’s not real life.”
Mabel’s face is blank as she blinks at me before lifting her eyes over my shoulder.
“Here.” She pushes past me and opens a door, then steps into an unoccupied, lavishly decorated bedroom. “This conversation needs privacy.”
I follow her in and let her close the door behind me, then she plops onto the bed and pats the mattress beside her.
“Sit, Roar. Let’s chat.”
“I sound terribly stupid, don’t I?” I say on a sigh as I take a seat on the bed next to her.
“No.” She shakes her head adamantly and holds eye contact. “Not stupid. Never stupid. Inexperienced? Yeah, sure. But not stupid.”
I roll my eyes “Right. That’s why you’re about to give me a birds and bees lecture.”
She purses her lips, hesitating, and I sigh again.
“Go ahead. It’s fine.”
“I’m going to ask you a deeply personal question.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. As if I need a warning. “Haven’t all of our conversations been deeply personal?”
She smiles and continues. “I know you’ve had sex, but have you ever enjoyed sex?”
I don’t even have to think about my answer. “No.”
“Have you only had sex with your husband?”
I shake my head. “No. I had a boyfriend in high school.”
She pauses, and I don’t miss the slight crease on her forehead. I brace myself for the next question I know is coming.
“Have you ever had an orgasm?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Have either of those men brought you to orgasm?”
I think of my encounter with Brady right before I left to come on tour.
He’d gone down on me, and I came. The first and only time it’s ever happened during sex.
But if I’m going to be honest with myself, I was pretending it wasn’t him.
Can I really say he brought me to orgasm?
I don’t actually know the answer, so I shrug.
“Kind of? Maybe?”
Mabel’s lips curve downward, and mine follow.
“That’s not normal, is it.”
“Actually, unfortunately, it is pretty normal.” I feel relief for a split second before she adds, “But it doesn’t have to be.”
My eyes widen. “It doesn’t?”