rock (22 page)

rhodochrosite

After the nurse tells us to prepare for Lila’s passing in the next few weeks, Jace disappears into the bush, which glows with pale morning light.

I shove my feet into a pair of Dad’s old shoes—the nearest available—and chase after him.

He must have broken into a run because I can’t see him through the gaps in the trees. I follow the creek around the bend to the cave.

He’s inside, huddled in the corner, his heavy breathing strained. For a moment, we’re kids again, and I’m looking at myself panicking in the closet. But Jace lifts his head and fast-forwards me twelve years.

I kneel next to him and rub his back. “It’ll be okay. We’ll make it through this. We’re a team: you, me, Annie, and Dad.”

“Because we’re family,” Jace says.

“Because we love each other.”

His breath hitches. He takes a long few minutes to stop trembling. When he does, he leans back against the smooth, damp wall and rolls his neck until he’s looking at me.

It’s dark in the cave, but not as dark as when we come out at night; the glowworms don’t seem to glow as much either.

“I want to forget everything, Cooper. Maybe laugh again. Just for a day.”

“Okay,” I say.
I’ll give you laughter in times of sadness.
“I promise.”

* * *

I think quickly, and half an hour later, I tell Dad I’m stealing Jace for the day and we’ll be back in the evening. He raises a brow then nods, watching me prepare a daypack with the essentials: water, food, and a picnic blanket.

I pull Jace from the loneliness of his room, my hand wrapped firmly around his wrist. “We’re going hiking.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

In ten minutes, we’re hurtling down the street toward adventure. An hour later, we arrive at Rimutaka Forest Park.

We pile out of the car, and I strap the daypack on. We’ve been quiet during the drive, but the contemplative quiet. The one that heals.

We hike through the bush, chasing our shadows over a long, narrow swing bridge, and over hills to the valley.

It’s late afternoon and few words have passed between us when our feet hit the rocky river edge. I lead him over the rocks, to a stretch where the stones are smaller, shifting under our steps.

Surrounded by majestic hills, a glittering river, and sun-warmed stones beneath us, this is the perfect spot.

I stop and so does Jace. He breathes in deeply as I take off my backpack, pull out a blanket and lay it over a bed of pebbles. The stones sink with us as we sit, but it’s comfortable the way they mold to our position.

I pull out leftovers from last night’s dinner—macaroni and cheese.

I hand him a fork and scoot closer so we can share. Our forks clink as we shovel down the pasta. It’s cold, but cheesy and delicious.

Jace drops some on his pants, pinches the insubordinate pasta and pops it into his mouth, licking this thumb. When we’re done eating, he casually rests his elbows on his knees and watches a flock of birds lift into flight and disperse in the sky.

He sighs and speaks softly, “I asked Mum about my dad.”

I wrap my arms around myself, hoping futilely to contain a shiver. “And?”

Jace scrubs his face, and his fingers drift over his forehead and dig into his hair. Toward his knees, he continues, “She said she’s sorry that she can’t give me more details about him.”

I watch the river water carve its memories on the rocks below as Jace’s words carve into me.

His voice stumbles. “I asked her what his name was again. ‘Roger, right?’ I said, and Mum nodded. Said that was right. Roger.” His blue eyes brighten in the warm afternoon sun. “But there was never any Roger. I made up the name to see if she’d trip up, and she tripped.”

I let out a slow, uneven breath. “That doesn’t mean anything, Jace. The nurse said the last stages of cancer make it hard to remember things. People can get really confused.”

He’s staring at me but I can’t look at him. I don’t want to see the apology that might be there. The apology and the final goodbye to
us
.

“Confused,” he repeats, and I close my eyes. A half-hearted breeze stirs between us like it’s dying. Like it’s a sign.

“Let’s go,” I say. I resist the urge to throw a rock in the river.

“No.”

I open my eyes. Jace is shaking his head. “No. I’m not ready to go back yet. Another hour. Please.”

Another hour before we have to go home and face reality once more.

“Besides,” Jace says, putting on a brave smile. “I haven’t laughed yet.”

His sadness overwhelms me, and I yearn to eliminate it in any way possible.

“Lie down,” I tell him. He frowns slightly. “Trust me.”

He lies down.

“Close your eyes,” I say, feeling for small, flat pebbles. “Are they closed?”

“Yep.”

I crawl over to him and gently set one of the pebbles between his eyebrows. “Ideally this would be rhodochrosite, but concentrate on the weight and nothing else.”

“Roadoc—what now?”

I press lightly against the stone and draw back, careful not to graze him but keeping close. “Shhh. I’ll tell you later.”

Rhodochrosite. A magnesium carbonate mineral, light pink to reddish-pink, found in fractures of sedimentary and metamorphic rocks. A three or four on the Mohs scale.

The stone is used for healing loneliness, loss, a pained heart.

I keep still next to him, saying nothing, just admiring his smooth sun-kissed skin, the etches of humor at his eyes, the sharp angle of his nose, and his resting palms open in a show of complete trust.

After ten minutes, his lips curve into a curious grin. “Cooper?”

“Yeah?”

“What are we doing?”

“Did your skin prickle? Did you feel that rush like you do when you fall?”

He opens his eyes. “Are you sure that’s the stone?”

I lean forward, and our eyes lock. He breathes in as I breathe out, as though he’s pulling me closer. I press the stone against his forehead and a shiver rolls through his body.

Before I make a fool of myself, I remove the stone. “We should get going so we make it back before dark.”

ruby

Her birthstone.

They say rubies restore youth and vitality.

I say they lie.

Lila passes away two weeks later.

sapphire

At the funeral, our family comes forward one by one to say a few words.

Dad stands next to the closed casket and reads a letter Lila wrote him when he was eighteen and living in the States.

“It’s a very short letter,” he says, smiling at the yellowed note in his hand. “She sent it via airmail.” He swallows a few times. “It says
I miss you
.”

He holds up the paper. “That’s it, just those three words.”

He turns to the casket and touches it. His silent cry racks his body and his voice comes out warbled. “I miss you too. I love you.”

Annie sniffs next to me and I squeeze her hand tighter. Jace is on her other side and Annie is holding his hand too.

But Annie pulls away from us and helps steer Dad to the pew. Jace grabs him into a hug, but his eyes find mine over Dad’s shoulder.

Annie clears her voice and speaks into the microphone. “For a long while, Lila and I didn’t get along,” she says. “I pushed her away and refused to acknowledge she was important to my dad.” She looks over at us, lingering on Dad. “I am sorry for that, and I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate her every day she was around. She was a clever, funny, intelligent woman, and I wish I had known her longer. None of us can know what the future will bring. Lila has taught me to love every day, and to love fiercely.”

Jace goes up next but his words aren’t said, they are sung and played on the grand piano set on the other side of the casket.

It’s U2, because it was her favorite.

The church gives a collective sigh when he finishes. When he doesn’t move from the piano stool, I wipe my tears and move over to him. I don’t coax him off his stool; I sit next to him and pass him the stone I brought with me. Sapphire. “It’s her favorite,” I whisper in his ear. He clutches it.

Sitting in front of a sea of black dresses and suits, I pull out my speech and angle the microphone Jace used.

He’s warm next to me as I flick through my cue cards. I squint but I can’t read what I wrote. I stare at the mourners and focus on Dad and Annie.

Jace is leaning forward, resting his arms against his thighs, staring at the stone. His tears glisten as they fall onto the piano keys.

“She wasn’t my mother.” The words leap into the air and burst through the speakers to the far back of the church, where stained glass windows glow bright red and yellow.

I close my eyes and pray. Today I believe in God. Today I believe Lila can hear me. “You weren’t my mum,” I say again, “but you were mine too.”

Jace stirs. When I open my eyes, he’s looking right at me. His eyes are bright and he’s trembling.

“It’s true,” he whispers. Though his words are for me, the microphone gifts them to the church.

“What is?” I ask, pushing the microphone away from us.

“This.” He fingers the piano keys and starts playing. The chords choke a cry out of me. The song is so tender it hurts. It’s as though Jace is holding my soul with his hands and kissing it.

He doesn’t sing this time, just plays, but the words are there anyway.

It’s too much. Everything.

And I—can’t.

Can’t process it.

Abruptly, I leave the piano stool and hurry back to our pew. I want to run out of here. I want to yell and shake him, but . . . Lila.

For Lila I stay strong.

I stare at my shoes. Stare at her polished casket. Stare into the air as if my next breath will give me the answers.

I feel Jace watching me but I do not acknowledge the complicated web of feelings. Not in the church. Not at the cemetery. Not at the wake.

When night falls and the house breathes its first sign of peace, I grab a jacket and head out the back door. A strong breeze stings my eyes and freeze-dries the tears at my temples and jaw.

I’m no fool. I know Jace is following me. The rustle of foliage and the crunch of his step tells me he isn’t in a hurry to catch me.

I need to find a rock.

I stop outside our cave, at the edge of the creek. I sit on a flat boulder that rocks like a seesaw. I filter river stones through my fingers and look for the perfect one.

They’re too big, too small, too chipped, too broken. None are right. None are what I need.

From the corner of my eye, I catch Jace approaching from the path to my side. He sits on the other side of my boulder, lifting up my side until we balance.

I adjust to the position and continue sifting stones through my fingers.

“It’s true,” he says quietly. The vibrations of his song play inside me, beating out its rhythm on my heart, in my gut, in my groin.

More stones slip through my fingers.

Jace takes the back of my hand and slowly threads his fingers through mine. Jace dips our hands into the cool stones until my hand is again full of brown and grey stones. But this time, they don’t slide through my fingers because Jace’s fingers are there to catch them.

The warmth of his hand under mine sends shivers to my fingertips and toes.

Jace gently brings my hand to his lap. One by one, he picks up the stones and drops them until only one is left.

Jace traces around the stone, tickling my palm. He stops circling and closes my hand around the stone. “This,” he says, his voice cracking. “This is it.”

My heart beats harder and I raise my head to look at him. His eyes are swollen from tears and grief but there’s something else too. Something that glitters. Something that pulls more shivers out of me—

“I love you, Cooper,” he says. “I am
in
love with you, and I have been since I was fifteen and we watched the glowworms together.”

I look over his shoulder to the mouth of the cave.

His words draw me back. “The first moment I saw you, I knew my life would never be the same, though I didn’t know how much until later.”

He shifts enough to bring us closer, and the rock gently rolls. His tender gaze strokes my face.

“You are
my
rock.” He squeezes my hand the way I squeezed his on the soccer field at Newtown High. “I wish I’d been brave enough to tell Mum that.” His other hand cups the side of my face. I lean into it. “But you can bet I’m going to be brave enough from now on.” He leans in and inhales deeply but stops on the cusp of a kiss. “Do I . . . do we . . . is there a chance for an us?”

“Our story never sank,” I murmur. “The breezes carried it for us.”

“Sorry?”

I turn my head and kiss his palm. “Yes.”

“Yes?” He leaps up from the boulder and pulls me with him. “Yes?”

His sudden, deep laughter echoes in the stone still clasped in my hand. I’m laughing too. I grasp his wrist and tug him close. His breath catches and the laughter stops but the smile remains in the way he rakes over my face and lingers at my lips.

“Come,” he says, the words fanning over the side of my face and landing on the sensitive spot at my ear. “We have something we need to do.”

* * *

Jace unearths the brown envelope from his desk drawer and takes it out to our shared balcony. He rests it on the railing between us.

The tiny flap at the top of the envelope, where Jace and I tried opening it, winks in the moonlight.

“There’s too much weight between us.” He pulls out a lighter and flicks it on. The flame burns brightly, dancing orange and blue, twisting to the song of the wind. “But maybe we can make some of it go away?”

The flame bows and leaps. “You want to burn the truth?”

“No,” he says. “I want to finally
live
it. I had to travel the world to piece it all together, but the truth isn’t in this envelope.”

He’s waiting for me. He won’t do it unless I want it too.
Do you care?

“I don’t care,” I say softly. “Whatever it says won’t change how I feel. How I’ve always felt. If it weighs on you, burn it.”

He picks up the edge and hesitates. “You’re right, it doesn’t matter.”

The light snaps off.

Jace shifts, fingers stroking the top flap. He wedges one finger under and slides it to the other side. The flap waves in another breeze. He dips his fingers in and starts to draw out the papers, but I cage his hand with mine.

What if he thinks it doesn’t matter now but later it does?

Do I want to risk that?

I free the lighter from his other hand and command the flame to rise once more. I do not hesitate. I draw his hand away and light the envelope. It catches the flame and it curls with the fire. Cinders break off and float away on a breeze.

We watch each other over the burning DNA results. My skin prickles from head to toe.

When there’s nothing left except us and ash, relief washes away the tension in my shoulders.

Jace closes the distance, brings me in close, and wraps me in his warmth. We hug like this, shifting from foot to foot and nuzzling closer, closer—

I press a kiss under his ear. It’s soft and light but only for a second. Jace stills.

We look into each other’s eyes, and much like the first time, we stir up a whirlwind of passion. Kissing, touching, and stumbling to his bed, we collapse. Jace lays on top of me, kicks off his shoes and pushes mine off with his toes as he kisses me deeply.

Our cocks align and we rut against each other through our pants. Somehow I work off his jacket and our shirts.

He pulls me into a sitting position, straddling my hips. He kisses me once more and leans over to pull something out from under his bed.

I rest my forehead against his shoulder and kiss his upper arm. His skin pebbles against my lips.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

He pulls out a mirrored mask from under the bed and dangles it between us. When it spins, it hits both our noses.

“This time when we make love,” he says softly. “There’ll be no pretending.”

* * *

Raw, honest, naked. His hot skin presses against mine as we kiss. My fingers push through his hair, squeeze his neck and skate over his shoulder blades. I press him closer. His greenstone hook is cool between us, imprinting on my chest.

Jace is right. This is it.

Just us. No masks. No double meanings.

I suck on his neck, drawing in his scent to make it mine. My lips work up to his ear. Our hearts hammer like music.

I capture his ear lobe and tease it with my teeth. His hips swivel and his hard cock slides against mine. “I need to be close.”

Jace pulls back enough to look down at me. The heat, passion, and need in his eyes reflects my own. A swelling tenderness—

He dips and kisses me lightly. “I need that too.”

He kisses me again as he rips open the condom package. My cock throbs as he squeezes me and rolls it on. He’s generous with the lube and takes his time stroking it onto me. I gasp at the firm, slick touch, and desire plows through me, jerking me up. I cup his neck and kiss him again, and push him down onto the bed. My mouth roams his chest, lightly biting his nipples. My fingers run through the lube at my cock and push at his entrance.

I’m impatient. Needy. I try to be gentle but I drive my fingers into him. He’s pleading me for more. Nothing is enough. A decade of heat begging to be released.

“Please, Cooper. I need you.”

I align myself and pause, cock nudging his entrance. Our eyes meet. “I love you, Jace.”

I press into him. We both moan. He’s so tight, gripping me so hard. His hands are on my hips, urging me closer—

Another moan.

Memories crash into me with every thrust. We’re standing in the cave on our toes, arms wide, imagining what it would be like to fall into the stars.

Like this. It feels like this.

We’re at Rainbow’s End, sitting in the stern of a giant swinging ship. It rocks us so high I think we’re going full circle. For a second, it hovers. Gravity steals my scream and tickles every inch of me senseless before slamming back into me as we fall.

I thrust again and again and again, and Jace lets out small pleasured grunts. He arches into me, head slamming against the pillow as if he’s lost to everything but the love and the mounting pleasure between us.

I scratch along his arms and urge them upwards, where I knot our hands together. My hips swivel, my thrusts short and slow.

We are talking on the phone, one of our weekly conversations when he first moved. I am lying on his bed, the heel of my hand resting on my hard groin.

Then we are in the cave again, and I’m confessing my feelings for him.

As if he can read my mind, he lifts his head and catches my lips into a kiss. “Cooper!”

My name falling so deep and urgent from his lips spikes our passion toward climax. I take hold of his cock and stroke him in time to my thrusts. The build of his orgasm makes his ass clutch my cock. We ride the last waves as they peak, peak, peak—