After leaving the library in a haze of shock,ItookAurorafor a bite atJokers, a honky-tonk bar off the beaten path, before heading back.
The entire time we ate, her nose was in the book.Iwas half-convinced she was going to finish it before we even leftBeaufort.
She had curled up on the truck bench seat with the receipt from the bar holding her place in the book.Anodd energy wafted off her like tendrils of smoke.Icouldn’t quite put my finger on it.Itwas a mystic magic, dancing between good and evil.
“Huh?” she said as she looked up from the page she was reading.
I rested my arm across her shoulders and gently stroked her hair. “Ifeel like we just unlockedPandora’sbox.”
To my surprise,Aurorashut the book, leaned into my touch, and closed her eyes. “Inever knew she was an author.”
“Were you two close?”
Aurora shook her head. “No.Ineed to call my mom and see what she knows.AuntJuniper. . .Shealways seemed like a piece of family lore.Shewas the weird aunt, you know?Notthe kind that people avoid, but the kind where she was always doing something crazy.Likea 'big catch' story.Everytime it's told, the fish gets bigger, the catch gets more harrowing, and the story gets more fantastical.”
“AuroraArcher. . .”Iworked the pseudonym around like a question and a statement all in one. “That’sa pretty badass name.”
A fleeting smile graced her lips as she traced the edge of the book cover with her finger. “Ialways felt like the odd one out in my family.”
“What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “It’sjust my mom and me.Inever knew my dad.Momis . . . she’s very analytical.Shehas her own hobbies.Butit’s like she’s left-brained andI’mright-brained.Butinstead of complimenting each other, we don’t understand each other.Everythingis literal to her.Ifit’s imaginative, she dismisses it as being childish and frivolous.Shedoesn’t listen to music.Doesn’twatch movies.Definitelydoesn’t read for fun.Ifshe reads, it’s non-fiction.Don’tget me wrong—she’s a great mom.Butwe don’t . . . speak the same language.Shenever understood whyIchose to try to be an author.Shejust accepted it becauseIwas making money and doing fine.Andwhen it all went to hell,Icould feel her disappointment every time she looked at me.”Sheclutched the book a little tighter. “Butthis . . .MaybeI’mmore like my family thanIthought.”
Well, shit.Thatwas the mostAurorahad ever opened up to me.Therewas hope in her voice on those last words, like she had found a kindred spirit in the memory of her aunt and the revelation of who she was.
“Tell me something,”Isaid as the road dipped into the forest that shrouded our end of the coastline from the rest of the world. “Themoney-stealing ex.”
Aurora stuck out her tongue and pretended to gag.
I chuckled. “Youheard from him?”
“No.AndIdon’t want to.”
I shifted in my seat as we rumbled over a pothole. “Noteven to get him to pay you back?”
She huffed. “I’drather stay broke than deal with his bullshit.Whatabout you?”Auroranudged me with her elbow. “Anyexes drain your bank account?”
I didn’t expect her to turn the tables on me, but if she was feeling talkative,Iwasn’t about to shut it down. “Nah.Luckily, my bank account is safe and sound.”
But she wasn’t letting me get off that easy. “What’syour story?Whyare you still single?Anddon’t give me the 'just haven’t found the right one' bullshit.You’rea catch.”
“You thinkI’ma catch?”Iteased, nudging her with my arm. “I’mflattered,Roar.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’mjaded, not delusional.Nowspill, hotshot.”
“I think we’re all a little jaded,Roar.Lifeisn’t kind to anyone.”
Her eyes softened. “What’syour story?”
“I’ve never gotten serious enough with anyone to let them around my bank account,”Iquipped, butAuroradidn’t buy the joke.Shejust waited me out untilIspoke up again. “Ilost my brother,Lucas, whenIwas twenty.Hewas sixteen.Wentswimming and got caught in a rip tide.”Istrangled the steering wheel, trying not to let the memory get the better of me. “Iwas a rookie with the fire department when it happened.Wewere called for a joint response with theCoastGuardandEMS.”Ibit the inside of my cheek. “Theyfound his body a few miles down the coast.”
“Oh,Jack.I’mso sorry,” she said softly as she squeezed my knee.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Myfolks packed up and moved inland.Theycouldn’t bear to be around the water anymore.”
“But you stayed . . .”
It felt likeIhad swallowed sand.Ilicked my lips, but it was no help. “Somedelusional part of me thinks one dayI’llwake up and find him walking up the beach to the house with that stupid smile on his face like nothing ever happened.”
