Page 103 of Finding Home

My phone buzzes in my pocket, so I stop dancing and check it, thinking Caleb or my mother is texting to ask if Raine fell into the toilet or what. But to my surprise, it’s a text from an unknown number, claiming to be from my ex-boyfriend, Trent; presumably, because I’ve blocked his old number.

Hey, Aubrey. It’s Trent. I won’t bother you again after this. Just wanted to say I’m sorry for what I did to you and I’m glad you found a good guy to take care of you right. I saw the news about C-Bomb shooting Claudia’s father. So fucking wild! When I saw that, I thought, “Damn, C-Bomb let me off easy!” Haha. Honestly, getting slapped on the street by the best drummer in the world was pretty cool. Plus, he knew my name? AWESOME! It’s too bad I can’t tell the story to anyone, cuz then I’d have to admit the awful thing I did to deserve it. It’s a bummer, but I deserve the punishment. At least, I’ll always have a cool memory. Anyhoo, just wanted to wish you and C-Bomb the best and tell you I’ll always be sorry and ashamed of what I did. Take care, Aubs. I really blew it with you. PS I swear I’ll never contact you again, so tell C-Bomb not to hunt me down and do to me what he did to Ralph! Haha! Damn.

I can’t believe my eyes, so I start reading the whole thing again. But midway through, Raine proudly shouts on the other side of the stall door, “All done!”

As the toilet flushes, my mind races. Should I delete this unexpected text from Trent? No.Good, bad, ugly. That’s my deal with Caleb. One I plan to honor forever. Surely, when I show him this text later tonight, he’ll laugh about it, anyway. But even if he doesn’t, I’ve got to tell him. Caleb’s always going to tell me all his deep, dark secrets; so I’m never going to hide anything from him in return.

“Hey, you!” a female voice says brightly, just as the door to the stall swings open and Raine emerges.

I turn to look at the source of the voice, and to my happy surprise, it’s Caleb’s sister, Miranda, bounding into the bathroom in a cowgirl get-up: denim shorts, boots, and a hat.

“Miranda!” I shout, rushing to her to hug her, as Raine shouts, “Auntie Manda!”

We both head over to her, with Raine toddling in front of me; and of course, Miranda hugs Raine first. “Rainey!” she shrieks, scooping up her niece, and then we all squeeze each other in a squealing three-way hug.

“What are you doing here?” I gasp out.

“You made the Summer Festival sound better than a club in Ibiza, so I decided to see it for myself.”

I snort. “Well, Ibiza, it ain’t.”Not that I’ve been there. “But it’s definitely a fun time.” I look her up and down, as Raine dances around excitedly about her glamorous presence. “I’m loving the fit, girl. You definitely dressed the part.” Miranda normally dresses in designer clothes. Or at least, everything she wears looksdesigner to me. So, this cowgirl get-up is a new look for her.

Miranda looks down at herself. “You don’t think I overdid it?”

I laugh. “Not at all. You’re perfect.” I turn to Raine. “Did you wash your hands?” I know the answer to my question. I just want to hear her say it.

“I fo-got.”

“I don’t blame you. Auntie Miranda is a pretty exciting distraction.” I guide Raine to the sink and cue her to wash her hands for the length of the usual song; and as she does that, I tell Miranda all the fun stuff she should do at the festival—the carnival games, the cake walk, the contests, and so on; and Miranda looks genuinely thrilled by all of it.

“The auction will be starting any minute now, but youcan do everything, right after that. The festival games stay open for a couple hours after the auction is done.”

Raine calls to me that she’s done washing her hands, and then holds up her tiny, clean palms as proof.

“Good girl. Now, let’s get back out there and dance with Auntie Miranda before the auction starts.”

Miranda leads the way, texting someone as she goes. And suddenly, the band abruptly stops playing its current tune, “Brown Eyed Girl,” mere seconds before they get to my favorite part: the sha-la-la-las.

“Why’d they stop?” I ask, as we step outside the bathroom into the evening air. But I’ve no sooner asked the question than the band starts playing a new song. One I think I recognize by its instrumental introduction alone.

When the singer begins the first verse, my hunch morphs into certainty, and I throw my hand over my mouth. The song the band is playing is “All of My Love” by Led Zeppelin. The one Caleb named asmine. What are the odds?

I look around eagerly for my man, excited to drag him onto the dance floor, whether he likes it or not. But, damn it, Caleb is nowhere to be found. I spot my parents on the dance floor, having a blast. Plainly, my father is enjoying his newfound freedom in his walking boot.But where’s Caleb?

“Let’s dance,” Miranda chirps to Raine, taking her hand. And of course, Raine expresses unadulterated excitement.

I follow the giddy pair, still scanning the faces for Caleb’s. But no dice. That’s weird. With Caleb’s height and brawn, he’s normally easy to spot in a crowd.

“Dadda!” Raine squeals.

“Where?” I ask, eager to find him before the song ends.

“Dere!” Raine points toward the stage, which makes no sense. But when I follow the trajectory of her tiny, raisedfinger, I see him. To my surprise, Caleb is sitting behind the band’s drum kit, joining in on the iconic song.Oh my god. The band must have begged Caleb to play on a song, and my romantic, swoony man suggestedthisone!

I can’t believe this man. His grand gestures and declarations of love never cease to amaze me. Nobody else at the festival will understand the sentimental meaning of this song to me. But it doesn’t matter becauseIknow what it means, and I’m swooning like crazy.

When Miranda, Raine and I reach the dance floor, Caleb’s eyes find mine. As our gazes mingle, he winks and beams a glorious, radiant smile at me, without missing a beat in his drumming.

“All of my love,” Caleb mouths, inaudibly, as the lead singer delivers those same words into his microphone for the crowd.

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