“Come back?” I echoed like I’d never heard those words before.
“Home,” they said at the same time.
That one word felt like a Superman punch to my very soul, and it must have been apparent to them too, because Rhodes’s expression went into his harsh one, his ultra-serious face. “Home.” He paused. “With us.”
With them.
That wide chest that I’d found comfort in time and time again rose with a breath, his shoulders lowering at the same time, and he nodded—to himself, to me, I didn’t know to who—watching me with those incredible gray eyes. “Where do you think you’re going?”
What? “Going? I’m here…？”
It was like he didn’t hear my answer because his scowl went nowhere and the lines on his forehead deepened as he said slowly, sounding resolute, “You’re not leaving.”
They thought I was leaving?
My poor brain couldn’t understand because it repeated their words, because they didn’t make sense. None of it—none of this, even them being here—made any sense.
“You had your bag,” Amos tag-teamed into the conversation, glancing up at his dad for a second before focusing back on me. He seemed to be struggling with something because he took a deep breath and then said, “We… we thought you lied. We were just a little bit mad, Ora. We don’t want you to go.”
They really thought I was leaving them? Forever? I’d only grabbed my little duffel.
And it was then that I noticed what Rhodes had tucked under his arm. Something bright orange.
My jacket.
He had my jacket with him.
Suddenly my legs went weak, and the only thing my brain could process was that I needed to sit down, and I needed to sit down right then. That’s what I did. I plopped down on the ground and just looked at them, the snow instantly wetting my butt.
Rhodes’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t run away when we get into an argument.”
“Run away?” I choked out in surprise, and honestly, more than likely astonishment.
“I should’ve talked to you last night, but…” Rhodes’s jaw worked, and I could see his throat bobbing from where he stood, legs planted wide. “I’ll work on that from now on. I’ll talk to you even if I’m mad. But you don’t get to leave. You don’t get to walk away.”
“I’m not leaving,” I told them in a whisper, stunned.
“No, you’re not,” he agreed, and I swore my whole life shifted.
Then I remembered what the hell had gotten us to this point and focused. “I texted you and you didn’t text me back,” I accused.
His expression went funny. “I was mad. Next time, I’ll text you back regardless.”
Next time.
He’d just said next time.
They were here. For me.
I’d been gone an hour… and they were here. Pissed off and hurt. I felt my lower lip start trembling at the same time my nasal cavity started to tingle. And all I could do was look at them. My words were lost, buried beneath the tidal wave of love filling my heart in that moment.
Maybe it was my lack of words that had Rhodes taking a step forward, eyebrows still knitted together, his bossy voice the roughest I’d ever heard it. “Aurora—”
“I’m sorry, Ora,” Amos stuttered, cutting his dad off. “I was mad that you’ve been helping me with my shitty songs—”
“Your songs aren’t shitty,” I managed to say weakly, mostly because all of my energy was shifted toward not crying.
He shot me a pained look. “You’ve written songs that are on TV! That asshole won awards for your music! I felt stupid. You said stuff, and I didn’t take it seriously.” He lifted his arms and let them drop. “I know you wouldn’t do something on purpose to hurt anybody’s feelings.”
I nodded at him, trying to gather my words again, but my favorite quiet teenager kept on going.
“I’m sorry I got so mad,” he said solemnly. “I just… you know… I’m sorry.” He sighed. “We don’t want you to leave. We want you to stay, don’t we, Dad? With us?”
So this was what it was like to have your heart broken for good reasons.
It was only from the sincerity in his eyes and the love I had in my heart for him that I was able to say, “I know you’re sorry, Amos, and thank you for apologizing.” I swallowed. “But I’m sorry I didn’t just tell you both. I didn’t want you to feel weird around me. I wanted you to be my friend for me. I didn’t want either of you to be disappointed. I can’t write anymore,” I admitted. “I haven’t been able to in a really long time, and I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I don’t mind it, actually, and I guess I was scared that you’d find out and only want me around for that… and I can’t. I can’t do it anymore. I can only help now, for the most part. Nothing comes to me randomly on its own like before. It ran out after I helped Yuki.