Chapter 7 Crack, crack, crack
Crack, crack, crack
Aurora
“You have the most amazing son, Rory,” Electra whispers almost reverently as we watch Emett and Exton do some hockey drills on the frozen lake in front of us.
“Yeah, I do,” I agree. “Even if he’s a small menace at times who is determined to embarrass me into the ground.” This morning a clear testimony to that statement.
As soon as Exton and Electra opened their front door, my son lost all the manners I tried to teach him over his four years of life. I swear, if he could he’d move in with them right here and now and follow one of his favorite hockey players everywhere like a puppy, day and night.
Emett’s high-pitched laugh reaches us where Electra and I are sitting at the edge, covered in blankets. Her on her wheelchair, me on a camping chair Exton managed to find somewhere in the garage. I smile, my heart filling with joy and warmth at seeing him this happy—even when he’s embarrassing me.
A smile that hitches at my friend’s quiet words. “That’s what you wanted to talk to me about that day, wasn’t it?”
I still, memories of that day resurfacing unbidden and unwelcomed, making my hands shake and I’m grateful for the mountain of blankets that hide my body’s reaction.
It’s been five years, yet I can still smell the damp air mixed with metallic notes of my own blood and motor oil as rain covered me like a blanket.
But that’s not what Electra’s asking about. She doesn’t know what followed after our missed date. And I’d like to keep it that way. So I just nod.
“Yeah, I was going crazy in my own head and needed to talk to someone. You were that someone for me.” I turn to find her sorrow-filled gaze already locked on mine and wonder if she doesn’t already know the rest of the story.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice cracks, her icy blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I’ve let down a lot of people I loved.”
Oh God, is she blaming herself for the sins of everyone else? I should’ve known that’s that what this was about. Electra always carried too much on her shoulders, and it seems she decided to take on yet another weight. As if she isn’t already dealing with enough crap this life had served her.
“By doing what? Going after your dreams?” I ask, but she refuses to look at me. “That’s not something you need to apologize for—least of all, to me.” Finally, her eyes snap to mine, looking almost shocked, and I feel my shoulders drop, my face softening.
“We all have our own storms to chase or chase away, Electra, and I’ll never blame you for that. You are the best of the best, so I’d say the gamble paid off.”
She watches me curiously for a beat, as if trying to decipher what storms I’ve got raging around me, but she must sense my reluctance because she sighs and willingly continues the conversation about her career. “Was. I was the best of the best.”
The shadows in her eyes are back, and I almost want to laugh. Look at us. All the promises growing up. All the sacrifices to not end up broken and alone, yet here we are. But while my situation doesn’t have a solution, Electra’s does.
“No, you are.”
“God, you sound just like Exton. Did he give you a list of sentences to repeat to me?” She quirks an eyebrow, and I chuckle, shaking my head.
“No, but since that’s the truth, maybe you should start listening to the two people who love you.”
Electra freezes and starts chewing on her lip as she gazes over at Exton.
Yeah, my friend, that six-foot hulk with sexy brown curls, a body made out of marble, and the most sinfully dazzling smile man is head over heels for you, in case you didn’t know.
She may not be ready to admit it, but I’m glad she has him in her corner.
Exton can be a straight-up asshole, but I think that’s exactly what Electra needs right now, as weird as it sounds.
“He’s great with him.” I nod toward Exton and Emett as he runs him through drills, correcting him when it needs be and praising him for the smallest accomplishments. He’ll make a great dad one day.
The kind every kid deserves.
The kind I gave up looking for a long, long time ago.
Electra watches them curiously, her head tilted as she seems to come to the same conclusion.
“Yeah,” she agrees softly before clearing her throat. “But please for the love of everything in this world, do not tell him that. His head is already way too big.”
“Which one?”
I waggle my eyebrows playfully and Electra’s jaw drops theatrically.
“Aurora!” Her gasp is filled with humor.
“What? Tell me you don’t know.” I quirk a playful eyebrow at her. Electra blushes almost immediately. “Ha!” I shriek in victory. “I knew it!”
“No! No, no, no! I don’t know anything like that,” she says, rolling her lips.
“But I might have a few very good guesses,” she adds after a moment and we both dissolve in a fit of girlish giggles because what else do you discuss with your best friend.
Dick and heartbreak. The two things that go hand in hand.
We find ourselves in the most comfortable conversation, as if these past five years didn’t happen.
As if we didn’t come out of them a little worse for wear and in this moment, I’m so grateful to have her back.
I didn’t realize how much I needed my best friend.
How much I missed the simple act of talking about nothing with someone who’d never judge you.
The tension I carry on the daily was just ebbing away.
Out of nowhere, we hear a deep rumble, and both our heads turn at the sound of an approaching vehicle. A huge forest-green truck is coming into view, prowling through the snow terrain like a mean panther through its domain.
I’m about to ask who that is because Electra clearly knows the newcomer, when the driver steps out and hollers, “Electra!” His deep, low voice waking up the frozen forest around us.
The forest and my heart.
My breath hitches. The wind surrounding me, stills.
It’s a man. A gorgeous, tall, utterly stunning man.
His caramel-blond hair is perfectly styled in that carefree kind of way.
Short stubble covers his angular, perfectly chiseled face.
His well-worn dark wash jeans mold his thighs to perfection, and he’s wearing a black puffer jacket that looks as expensive as it probably is.
A few neck tattoos are visible from the neckline of the tight shirt under the jacket.
Those don’t look like they belong on him.
Not with the blinding smile he’s wearing or that swaggering attitude that says he’s a good golden boy.
And I almost bought into the whole scheme if I hadn’t looked up into his eyes.
I don’t know this man. I have no idea who he is, but for some inexplicable reason, my heart sends out a warning thump through my ribcage at the sight.
It’s loud and powerful and almost feels lost. Like one half of it is trying to run away from the man’s gaze and the other wants to leap into his arms and never let go.
The beating intensifies, making it difficult to draw a full breath, and I close my eyes, trying to calm my heart.
They don’t talk about how confusing your life will be after you borrowed someone else’s heart.
They don’t explain how many times your body won’t feel like your own.
For weeks, months, after the surgery I had to remind myself who I was.
Every morning I’d wake up and feel something I’ve never felt before.
Have these thoughts in my head that didn’t belong there.
It was the price I had to pay for a life I was gifted.
And I thought I finally had it under control, only to sit here and wonder how was it possible for my heart to be at war with itself.
Because everything about the man feels both familiar and not. Like I’ve known him in another lifetime but also someone who’s a complete stranger. And while my eyes might be curious, my skin, my heart and my head are flickering with awareness. With fuzzy memories I can’t quite decipher.
I’m sure I’ve never spoken to him. Right?
Maybe I’m projecting because I knew those good golden boys. I knew them…and this guy? He’s not one of them. Then why does he want to make us all believe otherwise?
I look over at Electra to see if she’s seeing the same thing, but my friend seems to be perfectly oblivious, smiling.
Damn it, Aurora, this guy is just a guy. Stop being ridiculous and stop finding loopholes in every next person you meet.
He must be one of Exton’s teammates, and I squint, trying to figure out if I can remember exactly which one, seeing as Emett talks about all of them nonstop. The guy does look vaguely familiar, but I can’t place him just yet.
Yet somehow it didn’t stop you from reading his attitude, Aurora. Or your heart from acting all chaotic. My helpful brain is being a smart-ass once again.
I shouldn’t care what he looks like or who he is, or anything else about him. And my heart? Well, that thing has been living its own life for five years now.
Shaking my head, I draw the blankets around me closer and turn my attention back to my son and Exton, determined to not care.
But a moment later, my lids drop over my eyes as that cold, bone searing wind comes back. Whip. Rumble. Crack, crack, crack. I suck in a deep breath as it pierces through the ton of knit fabrics and straight into my heart, making it beat wildly.
I don’t believe in magic, astrology, or other supernatural stuff. But I do believe in mother nature that’s been hell-bent on warning me. And that’s exactly what this is. I’m sure of it.
I haven’t felt anything like it since that night. And now it’s back.
My eyes snap to the newcomer; my breath picks up. Is it him? Are you warning me to keep away? The wind picks up, shaking me from the inside out.
I’m still reeling around my own wild thoughts when Electra smiles and waves him over to us.