Page 53 of The Temptation of Truth
“What else did you use to want? Before now.”
“A greenhouse and poetry.”
I feel her eyes on me, assessing my reaction—searching for any hint of judgment—so I smile.
“Tell me more.”
In the silence that passes, I almost expect her not to answer, but then she surprises me.
“I went to school for creative writing. I wanted to be a published poet. I didn’t have delusions of grandeur, though. I didn’t think I’d become famous or anything like that. I just wanted to see my words in print with my name on the book cover. I wanted to create something that would last.”
Something that would last.
I feel that statement in my bones. It’s why I clung so hard to this band, even when everything was falling apart. For so long, nothing in my life was stable. Nothing was certain or true. Nothing was built to last. But this band, this family. We had staying power. I knew it. I believed it as fiercely as I believed my own heartbeat, and I couldn’t let go.
“I get that,” I say honestly. “It’s one of the reasons Heartless is so important to me. I’ve helped create something that will last long after we’re all gone. And the greenhouse? You want to grow flowers?”
“Yeah. Flowers. Vegetables. Greenery. Everything. Anything. I want to grow it all. I think I like plants more than people.”
I laugh at the smile I hear in her voice, and when I look at her, I can see proof of the truth in her words. Here, surrounded by things that grow wild and untamed, she’s glowing. She belongs.
“I think you need to rework that life plan, Roar.”
Her eyes shoot to mine. “Why?”
I twirl my fingers in a circle around her face. “Because anything that makes you smile like this should be a priority. You should look like this all the time.”
She blinks, her voice dropping to a whisper that nearly blends in with the breeze.
“Like what?”
“Alive.”
Her lips part, that same expression from earlier passing over her features. Like she’s been found, but she doesn’t know how to handle it. Like she doesn’t know if she wants to return to hiding or not.
When she doesn’t speak, I give in to temptation and brush my fingers over the sunscreen on her collarbone. She sucks in a sharp breath, but she doesn’t move away. Her lashes flutter, like she’s fighting the urge to shut them, and she ever so slightly leans into my touch as I rub until the white cream disappears.
“Sunscreen,” I whisper. “You missed some.”
“Thank you.”
The hushed rasp of her voice makes goose bumps appear on my arms and chest. I step back, filling my lungs once more with the clean, calming scent of eucalyptus in hopes that it will slow my galloping pulse. It doesn’t.
I don’t trust myself not to do something I shouldn’t, so I turn back to the trail and start walking. After three steps, she follows, and I catch her toying with her necklace again.
“What’s on your necklace?”
Aurora drops her hand and offers me a small smile.
“More personal questions, Mabel?”
She tosses my own evasive words back at me, and damn if it doesn’t make my stomach flip. She’s being playful, and I want more of it. I let out a laugh that dances between us. It lightens the mood, but it doesn’t lessen the tension. It almost seems to grow thicker, crackling, drawing me closer to her.
“Too much too soon?”
She shrugs coyly. “That depends.”
“On what?”
