51 AURORA
For the past several weeks, the forest has been our sanctuary, a quiet haven where all of us are finally finding peace.
And finally building something of our own.
“Watch your fingers, faun!” Tally roars from the roof, his torso glistening with a light sheen of sweat in the weak February sun.
My wolf is standing high on top of the shingles, bracing a massive, decorative cedar beam that caps the top ridge of the cabin. His muscles bulge as he holds it steady for the brackets to be secured.
“I’m so deft that I’m at DEFT-CON Three,” London shouts back, dangling precariously from the roof ridge by his knees, wild curls hanging upside down as he aggressively hammers a metal finishing plate into place.
Down on the porch, I swipe on a final streak of wood-stain and smile.
The second cabin is coming along beautifully.
Instead of just waiting around, biting our nails before the official decommissioning of Quo Reformare, we decided to learn construction.
By we, I mean me, Francois, Sky and London. Tally already seems to be able to turn his hand to just about anything.
Basil isn’t helping, but that’s a good thing.
He officially started school down in Ashgrave two weeks ago.
After a lot of cuss-filled, intense talks around our hearth, he finally agreed to be fostered by Opal and Gareth.
When London teased Basil about finally getting a proper mum and dad, he just crossed his arms, scowled, and claimed he was only doing it because the four of us were “far too annoying and bossy to live with anyway.”
Yeah right.
I’ve seen the way he subtly leans into Opal’s side, or hangs on Gareth’s every word. They are the perfect people for our prickly, young friend. Just the thought of him being able to have a stable home, and parents that love him, make my eyes well up.
Soppy.
“Is the stain finished on your side, Sky?” I call across to her.
“Not yet, some of us like to take our time and be precise, rather than rush and leave blotches.”
Yikes, called out.
Sky isn’t going to school. She’s still officially a fugitive like the rest of us.
A familiar whistle cuts through all the hammering going on.
I turn to see Opal walking up the dirt path, her arms laden with a massive, overflowing stack of thick woolen blankets. Trailing a few paces behind her is Basil, looking uncharacteristically neat in a brand-new denim jacket, a heavy school rucksack slung over one shoulder.
Opal stops at the edge of the clearing, looking up at the high timber arches of the second cabin. “Nice work,” she calls out. “You’ve done a magnificent job, all of you.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Tally yells back, leaning at an angle that makes me nervous to give her a grin.
“Be careful now!” She drops the linens onto our picnic table, then claps her hands together.
Putting down my brush, I walk over to give her and Basil a hug.
“Thank you, for all this, but we’ve more than enough bedding in our cabin.
You know what Francois is like—he just tells us to add whatever we need to the weekly delivery.
And some of us,” I point at London, “may have gone overboard on goosedown.”
Opal gives me a mysterious smile, smoothing down the top blanket. “Well, here’s some more, just in case you’ll need them.”
Yikes. She doesn’t think I’m pregnant does she?
That's…
Not possible.
Kind of unfortunately.
No, I don’t want kids, but I do want to have sex with the three gorgeous men who have made it very, very clear that as soon as I give the green light, ravaging is going to happen.
But it just doesn’t feel right to be having sexy time with Sky sleeping next door. I can’t shake the feeling it could trigger her.
Not that I’m wishing Sky away, not in a million years. It’s just something we’ll have to figure out. But a few more weeks of my virginity isn’t really a big deal, not when it comes to my girl’s mental health.
My musings are cut off by Basil yelling like a maniac. Opal raises an eyebrow.
“I’m presuming he just found the new additions to our cabin,” I tell her. “London decided both a highwire and a rope swing were necessary. Apparently it’s a crime against high-ceilings if we don’t make the most of them.”
“IT’S DONE!” London yells from the rooftop.
Opal and I swivel our gazes just in time to see London run down the shingles then back flip onto the forest floor. Tally, sensibly, climbs down the ladder.
Coming over, Tally kisses his mom on the cheek, as London pulls me into a hug.
“Where’s Francois?” Tally asks me.
“Online, trying to decide on which kind of Italian marble the countertops need. I keep trying to persuade him that the pine ones are fine as they are.”
London suddenly pops a faun-ear. “Ooh, more visitors!”
Though we are more relaxed about strangers approaching these days, I still take Opal's hand and pull her into the shadows. London hoofs it back onto the roof, crouching low and ready to pounce.
“Are you sure this is really necessary?” Opal asks me.
“Better safe than sorry.”
Then I hear it. A whining engine, coughing and struggling up the steep driveway. Within a beat, a battered, mud-splattered old pickup truck rounds the final bend, its engine rattling.
We all recognize the driver immediately.
“Jim!”
I’m always so pleased to see Layla’s dad. He looks a decade or more younger than when ‘The Director’ had him.
He slams the truck into park right in the middle of the clearing, a massive, face-splitting grin stretching across his kind features. The window is rolled down and I can hear country music on his radio.
Strangely, he doesn’t get out, just sits there, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the steering wheel.
I look at Tally and London, then shrug.
Stepping out of the main cabin, laptop under his arm, Francois joins us.
Suddenly, a canvas tarp in the back of the truck bed bursts open. “SURPRISE!”
Two figures spring straight up from the truck bed, covered in loose straw and laughing hysterically.
Layla and Clay.
“Lay!” I scream, bolting across the clearing as she leaps over the side of the truck bed. Within a second I’m throwing my arms around her neck as she squeezes me so tight I can barely breathe. Clay and Tally are hugging and laughing.
“What’s going on?” Sky steps out then her mouth drops open. “Lay?” The girl bursts into tears.
Layla immediately drops me and runs to Sky. “Hey, babe, did you miss me?”
Opal, who stands by the picnic bench with her arms crossed, looks thoroughly smug.
“That’s why you brought the extra bedding,” I accuse her, laughing. “You knew!”
“Guilty as charged,” Opal says softly, her eyes welling. “I knew they were out and had a strong suspicion you all would be one of their first stops.”
Behind me, the scent of cologne signals Francois stepping closer. He slips his laptop under one arm and reaches out, taking my hand. His fingers are slightly tense, and when I look up, his usual assurance is gone. He casts a hesitant glance over toward Clay and Tally, who are still laughing.
Yeah, I get it.
Clay and Layla never got to know the real Francois, but only time will fix that.
Before the awkwardness can even settle, Clay pulls away from Tally’s bear hug and jogs over to join us.
He stops directly in front of Francois and puts out a hand. “I hear you saved the day, man,” Clay says, his voice genuine and entirely devoid of any Digger malice. “How ‘bout we start fresh?”
Francois blinks, a wave of visible relief washing over his features. He lets go of my hand to firmly clasp Clay’s, nodding once. “I would like that very much.”
???
By the time the sun disappears behind the trees, Jim’s truck is chugging back down the mountain path. Opal has also headed off with Basil, because the kid is going to debate club.
That I’d love to see.
Now, the seven of us are gathered around the massive family table that Tally and London spent three days building from reclaimed oak.
“Pretty sweet, T-man,” Clay whistles. “Fucking fancy.”
We’re in the main cabin. The kitchen area is filled with the warm, rich scent of sizzling butter and wild herbs. London is singing about little-fishies in little-dishies while passing out plates of steelhead trout.
Tally and Sky had landed it just yesterday.
“Dig in!” he calls out.
Francois steps up to the table, carrying three bottles of a crisp white wine. He brought several crates from his father’s cellar. Filling everyone’s glasses, there is a distinct lightness to his posture. It fills my heart with joy.
“To freedom,” Francois says, raising his glass.
“Freedom,” we all echo, clinking our glasses together.
The log fire crackles, and the scent of pine is everywhere. The golden wires that connect me, London, Tally and Francois hum with contentment.
“This is fucking good, English,” Layla grunts through a mouthful of fish.
“It’s dark, can someone get the lights?” I ask, lazily. All three of my guys exchange glances.
What’s that about?
The next second, Francois casts an emerald green globe of light to hover above the table. “Very witchy vibes,” Layla snarks.
London blinks rapidly, and starts moving his hands too. Within seconds, a warm, deep amber globe pops up just above my head.
Then all eyes turn to Tally as he grunts and frowns.
“Relax,” Francois tells him.
“It’s not so easy in front of an audience,” he replies through gritted teeth.
“You’ve got this, Burt,” London comments, looking like a kid waiting for Santa.
And indeed he does—a beautiful golden ball of light swirls from his fingers and out up into the air like a helium filled balloon. We all cheer.
“Magic, boss?” Layla grins. “Not so working class now, are ya!”
Clay nudges her. “Have you seen where he’s living? The bossman is bourgeois these days!”
Talking of which.
“What are your plans now?” I ask Clay and Lay. “I know you just got out, but…thoughts?”
Lay answers first with a shrug. “Find a crib, I can’t go back and live with my folks. Love them, but Gods, no. Opal said I can pick up some hours at the clinic which will help.”
“Clay?”
He sighs. “Honestly, no idea. I’ve handyman skills, but no one in Ashgrave has the money to employ someone like me. Do it yourself, is the town motto.”
“Er, I think you’re misquoting,” Tally grins, pointing a fork at him. “It’s actually ‘DIY or die’, remember?”
They laugh, Layla joining in.
“I am not understanding,” Francois frowns.
“Of course you aren’t, Frenchie. But it’s simple. Do everything yourself, because if you waste money paying someone you won’t have food on the table,” Layla explains.
Wow.
I imagine Francois is feeling the same as me. Embarrassed and guilty about the wealth-divide in this country. There’s not much we can do about that, but we can help with one thing.
“What if you moved into the second cabin up here? There are four bedrooms, two bathrooms, so you’d have plenty of space…” I trail off as they look at me open-mouthed.
Finally Lay finds her voice. “Wait, what?”
“Rory, no,” Clay adds. “We can’t just move into your space.”
“This land is for our pack,” Francois says firmly, making me so proud. “There’s more than enough room up here for all of us.”
“And if Shane stops fussing about countertops,” London chimes in. “It’s move-in ready!”
Tally rests his hands on the table, his tone calm, certain, and full of authority. “We all want this. No contracts, no expectations. Just a home.”
Layla looks between the four of us, and I see a tiredness in her that is bone deep. She’s been fighting so long. “I don't even know what to say. I guess rich-pricks have their uses after all, right, Barbie?”
Sky suddenly pushes back her chair, getting to her feet. She looks directly at Layla, her eyes huge. “If you guys take the second cabin…Lay, can I please move in with you? Please? It’ll be like Quo.”
“It will be nothing like Quo, you little idiot,” Lay growls. “But sure, you were a pretty good roomie.” She freezes. “That is, if, like Barbie and the rest say you can. Shit, how does this crap work? Am I a fucking responsible adult now?”
That gets everyone laughing again.
The small spike of emotion I feel about Sky choosing Layla over me fades away. She and Layla shared a bunk bed every night in Quo, there is no reason why she wouldn’t want to be close again to her dearest friend.
Like she can read my mind, Sky skips around the table, stopping in front of me.
“I’m not trying to hurt your feelings, Rory, it’s just, I missed Lay so much and honestly…
” she drops her voice. “The sexual tension around here can get a little much. If I move out you can finally bone. Please finally bone, for all our sake.”
Layla and Clay smirk as I catch Tally’s eye from across the table.
His golden gaze darkens with a sudden, intense heat that makes my stomach do a spectacular flip.
Beside me, London lets out a low, slow whistle, his fingers subtly trailing a warm path down the small of my back while Francois’s lips curve into a thoroughly wicked, knowing grin.
My face burns, turning hotter as my mind flashes back to one of the first supply packages Opal had sent us weeks ago.
Tucked alongside the toilet paper and dishsoap, was a brown paper bag containing several months' worth of birth control pills and several boxes of condoms.
I’d started taking the pill the very next morning.
“Yeah, you should move in with them,” I tell Sky, kissing her cheek.
London leaps up and runs to the tall dresser. In a second he comes back clutching a piece of card and a marker.
“What are you doing?”
“Making a sign,” he sing-songs. “Don’t come knocking if this cabin is rocking.”