Come on.
Once I'm in, I don't waste time getting my coat and boots off, so,sofucking grateful Céline is still out walking Ellie. With any luck she'll stay out a while longer.
I make it to the bathroom, fingers clumsy and stomach heaving as I fumble with the silencer. I manage to get it open and on before it all comes up, but I wasn't fast enough to get to my knees in front of the toilet. The mess hits the shower curtain and I grip the porcelain bowl as my body heaves a second time, expelling the lunch I forced myself to robotically eat after Ambrose showed me the documents on his phone.
Five fucking courses.
And all of them exit the way they came in.
When my body is completely wrung out and there isn't any more I could possibly get out, the weight of it all hits me like a sledgehammer to the chest.
I know who my parents are, and one of them is likely dead and the other is a monster.
The same monster who hurt the men that I…love.
At the door, Céline comes in with Ellie and I kick the door to the bathroom shut, completely unable to stop the pathetic gasping sobs spasming in my chest.
Leave.
Please, just leave.
Ellie barks at the bathroom door and I want to scream.
"Aurora?"
I push the toe of my boot against the door since the stupid thing doesn't lock, but she rattles the handle, trying to come in.
"It's okay," I croak between heavy, watery sobs. "I'm fine."
"You are not. Open the door."
Ellie whines and Céline leads her away. I hear a door close and hope she's left with Ellie again, but then the door pushes against my boot, harder this time, and I don't have the fucking strength to fight her right now.
Céline slips through the door, gasping when she sees me on the floor. I can't meet her eyes as she folds herself onto her knees and gathers me into her arms. I wish she wouldn't because that only makes the tears come harder.
I try to stay quiet—I don't want to scare Ellie in the other room—and Céline hushes me, rubbing my back, whispering calming words I don't understand in French as I come apart.
Her phone rings incessantly in her pocket and on the third time, once I've regained the ability to breathe without gasping, she grumbles and plucks it out.
"It's the boys," she whispers. "I should?—"
I snatch the phone from her and silence it, shaking my head. "No, don't."
"What is it, child?"
"Th-they can't know," I urge her. "You can't tell them."
The soft wrinkles around her eyes deepen as she looks at me. "Aurora, I couldn't tell them what's going on here because I don't know. Talk to me. What happened?"
I shake my head, scattering tears, and drop my head. "No, it doesn't matter."
She lifts my chin, and the way she looks at me, with so much fierce care and empathy, I understand why the guys love her so much. Why they trust her above any others. Céline may have lost her own children, but she's still a mother.
"If it made you this upset, then it does matter."
"I can't…"
Her lips press into a hard line and her brows draw down. "You don't know me as well as the boys do," she says quietly. "But if there's one thing I amverygood at, it is keeping a secret."
