Across the Vanishing Sky (Starlight Grove, #1)(23)

Bruce hiccupped. “He doesn’t give a damn that he turned our lives upside down for the past nine months. That we’ve spent endless time, resources, worry.”

“Selfish,” Holly bit out. Not directed at Bruce but at the person hurting her friend.

The vehemence in Holly’s single word caught me off guard. It was so at odds with her warmth from when I first met her. But we all had our triggers. Maybe this was one of hers.

Aster reached out with a light hand, resting it gently on Holly’s arm for a moment before turning to Bruce. “Hurts like hell when someone chooses that.”

The way she said the words spoke of experience, which had me curious.

“Like a damn brand,” Bruce rasped.

“And all we can do is remind ourselves that it has nothing to do with us. Addiction is a disease—one with no easy cure. And the only one out there requires choice from the afflicted,” Aster went on.

Alma made a clucking sound with her tongue, nodding in agreement. “My Maya. She was in that life, making choices that put her at risk. And now, I constantly have to battle being terrified for her out there and furious she left her children behind without a second thought.”

Bruce scrubbed a hand over his face as he turned toward the woman. “I don’t want to hate my grandson, but that anger…it’s so fierce.”

“It’ll always be there,” Alma told him. “Flashes of it so potent they steal your breath. But they come further and further apart. Time.”

“How can we help?” Aster inquired. “What do you need?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know,” Bruce muttered. “Now that I know he’s alive and wasn’t taken by some monster, that he’s not dead, I just…feel lost. Like I don’t belong here. Don’t belong anywhere.”

Holly leaned forward, dipping her head to meet Bruce’s gaze. “You’ll always belong here.”

I found myself softening toward Holly’s earlier harshness. There was more than a good heart underneath it all. And when you lost someone, you sometimes needed to channel it into purpose.

Bruce sucked in a stuttered breath. “He’s not missing anymore.”

Holly’s eyes misted. “Neither is my boy. But I’m still here.”

Hell. With as young as Holly was, she had to have lost her son at far too young an age. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to pull her into my arms and hold on tight. Which was the ultimate lesson, wasn’t it?

Someone might not be your kind of people, there might be something about them that annoyed you or that you disliked, but they were a human being. Someone with losses and triumphs, traumas and loves. And, most of all, they deserved support when they needed it.

“We all have a place here,” Cora said softly next to me.

Aster nodded. “That’s right. We all belong because of shared experiences and the commitment we’ve made to support one another however we can. You think you can still do that?”

Bruce lifted his head and met Aster’s pale-blue gaze. “I can do that.”

Her mouth curved into a soft smile that told him he was seen. “Good.”

Holly leaned back in her seat, wiping her hands on her dark jeans. “Anyone else?”

I felt Cora shift next to me. Her gaze dropped to her lap, where she plucked at a loose thread on her jeans. “Tomorrow’s the anniversary. Eleven years since my mom disappeared.”

This was different. It was the kind of share that didn’t come with news or developments. The kind that was only put out there because it needed someone to bear witness. Over a decade without someone you loved…

A different sort of ache took up residence in my chest—the kind borne of fear. The kind that asked if I’d still be here ten years from now, saying the same sorts of things. The kind that wondered if I, too, would never find answers.

“Sometimes,” Cora began, clearing her throat, “sometimes I wonder if she just decided to leave, peaced out on me and my dad and started over somewhere without the complications of family. I don’t know which would be worse: her choosing to leave or her being stolen from us.”

Bruce made a sound of agreement in the back of his throat.

Cora’s head lifted, her eyes finding his. “Either way, it’s pain. Part of you is frozen—the you that you were when they went away—and part of you is this whole different person.”

An invisible match lit the ache in my chest then. As if soaked in kerosene, it flamed to life. “Like they wouldn’t even recognize you if you passed them on the street,” I whispered.

Cora turned to me, her expression pained but somehow relieved at the same time. Because I’d seen her, because I knew her pain. And that was the magic of Compass.

“Exactly,” she agreed.

I felt another gaze on me and looked up to find Aster’s understanding eyes studying me. She sent me a gentle smile. “Do you want to share what brings you to Compass, Brae? There’s no pressure—”

I shook my head as if shaking off that suggested pressure. The longer I waited, the harder it would be to open that wound. My fingers dug into my jeans-clad knees. “My best friend—more like my sister. The person who helped me raise my son.”

My gaze flicked to Owen, and I watched for a moment as he raced around the playground, glasses bouncing up and down on his nose. I swallowed hard. “We were here, in Starlight Grove, on a girls’ weekend a year ago. She disappeared on a hike.”