Chapter 28 Aurora #2
“I’d be lying if I said you aren’t a big reason why I came to this realization,” I say softly. “But the decision to leave is for me. He’s chipped away at me for four years. If I stay, I know he won’t stop until there is nothing left.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
Her lips ghost over my hair as she speaks, her breath warming my scalp. Then she wraps her arms around me in a hug and moves her hand to the soft spot behind my ear, right on my pulse point.
“I’m here for you in any way you need, Roar. Anything you need. I’m here.”
“Thank you.”
I hold her tightly, feeling her heart pound against my chest and listening to her soft inhales and exhales. I’ve never felt safer than I do when I’m wrapped up in Mabel’s arms. I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to leave the comfort of her embrace.
But I know I have to.
Tonight, Mabel has a crowd of 80,000 people to dazzle.
Tomorrow, I have a life to ruin.
Only then, can I step into a better one.
“Sydney, Australia, how are we doing this evening?”
Sav’s voice is swallowed up in the boom of cheers and screams from the crowd, then her laughter fills the stadium as she turns to her band.
“That’s what we like to hear, isn’t it guys?”
Mabel pounds on the drums as if to say yes, it is, and like an extension of her hands, her lips, I feel each beat on my skin.
The Hometown Heartless always puts on a phenomenal show, but this one feels different for me.
It feels like I’m viewing it through new eyes, hearing it with new ears.
I can’t contain my giddy excitement, and I don’t even try to tear my eyes away from the drummer.
When Sav starts wooing the crowd some more and everyone’s attention goes to her, mine stays on the back of the stage. On Mabel. She’s all I see.
“Welcome to the Riot She Wrote tour, Sydney. We’re so fucking excited to be back here sharing new music with you, and we hope you’re excited too, because we’ve got a little surprise for you.”
The ground vibrates beneath my feet as the audience goes nuts, and the cheering gets so loud that I’m sure my ears will be ringing tomorrow.
“You might have noticed some camera crews around the venue, and that’s because we’ll be filming every show while were here in Sydney, so we need you to bring the energy. You think you can do that?”
Sav laughs again as the audience erupts with cheers.
“I knew we could count on you.”
Jonah strums his guitar, and Sav flashes him a smirk. “That’s my cue.”
She pauses, and in the silence, excitement rolls off the crowd in waves. She looks from Jonah, Torren, and then to Mabel before finally leaning back into the mic and casting her attention out at the crowd. Then she grins.
“Sydney, are you ready to fucking rock?”
I watch a smile take over Mabel’s face as the crowd goes wild, but then she looks at me, and my breath hitches.
In all the chaos, with a crowd of 80,000 people, it’s like we’re the only two in the place. She winks and blows me a kiss, and I ride that high for the entire two-hour show. It’s the exact thing I need to solidify my decision.
This is how it’s supposed to feel. Fluttering butterflies and good chills.
The bubbly, effervescent kind of nerves.
Pure, thrilling happiness. That’s what Mabel Rossi gives me.
If I have to set fire to my entire life, I’ll do it, because now that I know how this feels, I refuse to settle for anything less.
After the show, Payton escorts me back to the house we’re renting, and instead of waiting for everyone else, I head straight to my bedroom.
I can do this. It needs to be done. There’s nothing to be afraid of. His hateful words don’t matter anymore, and since he’s on another continent, when he tries to berate me, I’ll hang up.
“Brady, I don’t want to get pregnant,” I say into the mirror. “I want a divorce.”
I practice saying the words a few more times, changing the inflection and speed until I decide to stop stalling and just go for it.
“I can do this. Just be honest, and then hang up when he gets mean.”
I repeat it out loud as I unlock my phone and pull up Brady’s contact. I say it over and over in my head as the phone rings. When he doesn’t answer, I hang up, and I call again. It’s pretty early back home, but I know he’s awake.
When the voice mail picks up a third time, I get annoyed.
He would be livid if I let his call go to voicemail even once, let alone three times.
He would leave me a raging, horrible message, then continue to call every few minutes until I finally answered.
And then he would yell. It wouldn’t matter if I was in the shower, in the garden, or had my hands full with dinner or laundry; he would scold and insult me until I apologized for missing his call.
The thought fills me with anger, hot and bubbling in my stomach. I haven’t been this angry in a long time. I don’t know if ever, honestly. I usually cower. I usually beg for forgiveness. Not anymore.
He truly does treat me so poorly. It’s been years of abuse, and just thinking about it makes me wish I could time jump straight into a life without him.
A life full of love, laughter, and light.
I can’t rewind, but I can start fresh. My eyes seek out my orchid and focus on the healthy bud.
Rebirth and rebloom. I can do that. I will do that, and it will be so beautiful. I can hardly wait.
A sense of urgency fills me as his phone goes to voicemail yet again, but this time I don’t hang up. This time, I dig my nails into my confidence, holding tight so it doesn’t slip, and let my anger bolster it as I leave a message.
“Hi. It’s Aurora. I didn’t want to have to do this on your voicemail, but since you’re not picking up, I guess I have to. Brady, I’m not leaving the tour. I’m going to stay and honor my commitment. And...”
I pause to collect myself. Do I tell him I want a divorce? That I’m leaving? For a moment, I almost do just to make it easier on myself, but then I think better of it. I don’t want to give him any extra ammunition to throw at me.
“And we really need to talk. It’s important, so please call me back when you get a chance. Goodbye.”
I hang up, then sit for several minutes just staring at the phone.
I wait with rigid muscles for it to ring, for him to return the call just to scream at me from across the ocean.
When my phone buzzes with a text, I about jump out of my skin before I realize it’s not from Brady.
Immediately, my fear vanishes, and I’m filled with those fluttering butterflies.
Mabel
Open your door, Sleeping Beauty.
I rush to let her in, and it takes all my strength not to collapse into her as soon as we’re alone.
She takes off her jacket and drops it on my bed, then sits to take off her boots. She’s still in her concert clothes, so she must have come straight back to the house. I’m so glad she did. I’m jittery and bouncing with adrenaline, but she always makes me feel calm.
“Hey. You played a great show tonight,” I say. “You all did, but especially you. I bet you got some great footage.”
She gives me a tired smile. “You looked like you were having fun in the audience. I saw you dancing and singing.”
“I had a blast. It was probably my favorite show of the tour so far.”
She stands and steps closer, several inches shorter now that she’s barefooted, and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear.
“And how are you feeling? About what you said earlier, I mean. Second thoughts?”
I shake my head. “No second thoughts. I actually tried to do it tonight, but he didn’t answer his phone.”
Her brows rise. “Really?”
“Yeah. I’m serious about this, Mabel. I want it done. I want it over.”
I want you, I almost add, but I bite my tongue. I told her that this decision wasn’t about her, and I don’t want her to doubt that.
She smiles softly, then leans in and presses her lips to mine. It’s sweet and tender, but I want more, so I deepen the kiss. Slowly at first. Timid. But when she responds, I grow bolder.
I run my tongue along her lower lip, just like she’s done to me, and she parts them.
Our tongues glide together, and I swear I can feel it on every inch of my skin.
My neck. My breasts. Between my thighs. I tug on her corset, pulling her closer, but she pulls away, and I’m left panting and confused.
“I’m going to shower, okay? After, if you’re not too tired, maybe we can hang out? Watch a movie or something.”
I try not to frown as I nod, and I watch her leave through the terrace French doors. Minutes later, the shower kicks on in her en suite bathroom. Then I start to pace.
Blood is pumping quickly through my body. My skin pulses with it. I’m still energized from the phone call, from the promise of my life without a cage, and after kissing Mabel, I can’t settle. I don’t want to settle. I want her.
An idea pops into my head, and with it are images that set my skin on fire.
That same sense of urgency grows stronger, more frantic.
I’m almost free. My new life is right at my fingertips, and I want it now.
I’m so tired of wasting time. Of wasting myself.
I want to close this dark chapter and start a new one. I want a life full of light.
I want Mabel Rossi, and I’m going to show her.