Page 195 of Burn Like An Angel

Lennox gestures towards the art studio. “Looking at some paintings, I think.”

Slapping his shoulder, I head for Ripley’s attached studio. These days, it’s more like organised chaos. The space gets messy when she’s having a bad week and can’t stop. That and the times she doesn’t have the energy to even move.

When those episodes hit, I come in and reset her workspace for her. We both work from home while Lennox is often at the gym he part-owns, and Raine makes use of a rented studio a few streets over to rehearse in peace for his upcoming tour dates.

Through the drying racks, I can see Ripley standing with Brooklyn and Harlow. Logan, Brooklyn’s chubby toddler, bounces on her hip. Both women are a few years younger than Ripley, but they became fast friends.

She learned to love Brooklyn through the friendship we formed with her guys while she was gone. What began with an awkward drop-in and Thai food slowly blossomed through bonding over our similar experiences.

As for Harlow and how she ended up in our extended family, that’s a whole other story. But having survived her own ordeal, she slotted into the close dynamic we’ve all formed over the last decade.

“How do you feel about the documentary airing?” Brooklyn asks.

A finished canvas clutched in her hands, Ripley stares down at the swirls of paint. “I’m glad the footage was salvaged from the memory cards.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Harlow runs a hand over her shoulder-length ringlets. “It’s okay to have mixed feelings. This is a huge step.”

“No… I’m relieved.” Ripley chooses her words carefully. “I knew I’d never feel at peace until I told our version of events. We never had that closure.”

Brooklyn coos over her little boy. “We just want you to be happy, Rip. Even if I didn’t do an interview myself, I respect your decision to sit down with the journalist.”

“You do?” Ripley glances at her.

“Of course.”

“I was a bit worried about your reaction.”

“No need to be.” Brooklyn flashes her an easy smile. “You have to do what’s right for you. We all heal in our own ways. I know I did. You’ve waited a long time to find your peace.”

“I don’t know if I’ve found it yet.” Ripley hikes up a curved shoulder. “But this feels pretty damn close. I needed to purge myself of all the things I did back then.”

“Are you worried about backlash?” Harlow asks fretfully. “I know firsthand how cruel the media can be.”

“You know what? I’m not. What can they possibly do to me that’s worse than what we went through?”

After Ripley puts the canvas back in its place, the three women embrace, all squishing Logan between them. He squeals loudly at all the attention. Brooklyn swipes under her silver-grey eyes when she steps back.

“I’m proud of you, Rip.”

“Thank you.”

Harlow rubs Ripley’s arm, a warm smile making the burn scars that cover her neck wrinkle. “The world needs your voice. I’m proud of you for using it.”

Letting them all hug again, I wait a second before interrupting.

“For the record, I’m proud too.”

Her head lifting, Brooklyn points an angry finger at me. “You! Who the hell sets fire to a damn recording studio?”

Harlow bites her lip while Ripley just smiles exasperatedly. I keep my distance so Brooklyn can’t slam her fist into my face. It’s happened once or twice. She has the firepower of a fucking nuclear arsenal.

“Erm, me?”

“What were you thinking?” she demands.

“I was… feeling some stuff.” I shrug it off. “Lots of stuff.”

---