He nods. “Aye. Or something close.”
I stare out the window again. For the first time in a long while, I think of home without anger. Mostly, it’s a dull ache.
“Please don’t tell the others,” I ask.
“About what?”
“About this. About how bad it still is. The nightmares. The flashbacks.”
He nods. “I know.”
“They deserve a good night. A dinner without drama.” I fold my arms across my body.
“We’ll keep the peace.”
I let out a long breath. “One night.”
“One night,” he echoes.
The van bumps over a crack in the road. The years between us, the scars, the silence. All of it falls away.
We’re not rock stars or broken sons or men still learning how to love.
We’re two kids again, hoping for the best.
twenty-three
Avonna
The Same Week
Iwalkintotheroom barefoot.
A beautiful space. Warm wood floors, soft, neutral fabrics, a large bed dressed in linen sheets.
There’s a mirrored wall on one side of the room. A diffuser sends up tendrils of cedar and rose.
Elijah and Marius are already here. They’re barefoot too. Relaxed. Awake. Dressed simply in soft T-shirts and loose pants.
Comfortable.
Intentional.
Camille follows me in to check on the set up. When she’s satisfied, before she departs, she places her hand on my shoulder. “Avonna, tonight is the integration you desired. You’ve done the internal work. Let your body tell its truth. There is no performance. You are the one in charge.”
A breath sticks in my throat. She gestures toward the center of the space.
“Elijah, Marius, approach Avonna with care. Ask. Listen. Let her pace you.”
They move.
Elijah steps forward first. He doesn’t reach for me, though he and I have had sex in every position imaginable. Tonight is different.
He stands a foot away. “Avonna, may I touch you?”
“Yes.” I breathe in.
His hands find my arms. Light. A gentle stroke up from my wrist to shoulder. Like a musician brushing the strings before playing.
