Falling Star: Book 2 of The Orion Series

Secrets

[POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNING] Talking about a dead sibling. Reader discretion is advised.

"Hey."

I must have fallen asleep at some point because Jake isn't there. I'm also in a patient room. I look to my right, shocked when I see Orion in the bed next to me.

"Orio?"

He looks a lot better. What little color he has in him has returned, so he no longer seems like a chameleon against the bed sheets. The dark circles have lessened, and he's sitting up.

He grins. "Once you were out of recovery I threw my weight around and convinced them to let us have a room together."

I smile at him weakly. "Thank you."

"My family just landed," he tells me a little sadly. "They'll be here in a bit."

I nod.

"Jake told me you talked to him."

I grin and nod. Orion rolls his eyes. "Finally."

I chuckle but immediately regret it.

"Hey," Orion tells me seriously. I look at him, surprised.

"I know you're the strong one in this relationship, and while I appreciate it, you need to settle the fuck down now, okay?"

I raise an eyebrow because that's literally all I have the strength for right now.

"Seriously. You re-opened your wound from moving around too much too soon. That's why I wanted you here with me--now you don't have to go down the hall."

I mumble a chuckle. "We're a wreck. I can't believe going down a hallway is too much."

"Yeah," he smiles at me, "but it'll get better."

"I appreciate it love," I mumble.

Orion cranes his head to the side and looks deeply worried. "Are you okay?"

I shake my head, and then put my head back and close my eyes. "I just had two surgeries. I'm just really tired..."

"Go to sleep, babe. Rest up. I'll be here when you wake up."

With a smile on my face, I do exactly what he says and go to sleep.

~

We're still in Colorado. The overwhelming majority of critiques Saturn Mutants have received are positive. Their style seems to have been officially dubbed terror rock, because after that Rolling Stone article it's what everyone is calling it.

Soon the harsher critics emerge. "They're trying to hard." "Their sound is disheveled and all over the place." "Sounds like a bunch of thirteen years olds having jam sessions in one of their parent's garage." "Tried to push the envelope, and failed."

Orion and everyone else merely laughs at it. It still shocks me how different professional Orion is compared to my boyfriend. It makes sense to an extent. Everyone tries to act professionally at their jobs. An unspoken truth is that work should stay at work and home should stay at home, regardless of the occupation.

I know Orio is living in constant fear of the band crumbling. I know his insecurities about not being good enough. So it's after we make celebratory love with one another for how well everything is going do I prod him a little.

"I'm happy the negative reviews aren't getting to you."

"Fuck 'em," he mumbles, still groggy in our post-coital snuggles.

I chuckle. "It doesn't bother you?"

He twists around in my arms, looking at me. I love how he looks, pale skin practically glowing against my dark tan, hair mussed and sticking every which way, his eyes wide and doeish. He blinks at me, his lashes fluttering. Even when he's not, Orion always looks like he's wearing faint eyeliner, a byproduct of dark lashes against such pale skin.