YoungBloods

Chapter 15

Aurelia woke to the soft gray light bleeding through her window. Her pale blue sheets tangled around her legs, her cherry red dress crumpled in a delicate pile at the foot of her bed. The perfume of the night before still clung faintly to her skin — rosewater, sweat, and something warmer… something familiar.

She lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling. Her chest felt tight, not in pain, but in the ache of things long buried and suddenly resurrected.

DJ.

He had been real. Not a ghost. Not a memory or a half-remembered dream. He had stood there, breathing and beautiful, looking at her like he never left.

Her fingers curled over her bedsheet.

She should be mad at him.

She wanted to be mad at him.

But the moment his voice touched her name, everything inside her crumbled like a house built on sand.

After he left, she'd cried for weeks. Long after everyone told her to let it go. Maybelle would sit beside her on the front steps, arms around her as she sobbed into her knees. Every day, Aurelia waited with a small, battered suitcase packed beside her — two dresses, a brush, and a photograph of them as kids. She’d sit for hours, watching the corner of the street, hoping to see his face again.

He never came.

Not after a month.

Not after a year.

Not after nine.

When the storms rolled in — thunder shaking the windows, lightning cracking across the sky — she used to crawl into bed early and leave her window cracked open, just a little. Hoping he’d still remember his way back in storms. Hoping maybe he’d climb through and wrap his arms around her like he used to.

But he never did.

No letters. No phone calls. Not even a whisper of his name. Only the silence. The world moved on and expected her to, too.

And she tried.

She went to school. She smiled at parties. She danced with boys who had clean hands and shallow hearts. But no one ever saw her the way DJ did. No one made her laugh like he did. No one made her feel the way she felt when he was close — like she belonged somewhere, like she was safe.

And last night, under those speakeasy lights, when their eyes met… it was like nothing had changed.

He still looked at her like she was the only person in the world.

And somehow, despite all the time, all the heartbreak, all the waiting...

She still wanted to run to him.

Aurelia sat up in bed and pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin there. Her blonde curls framed her delicate features, sleep still soft in her blue eyes. She bit the inside of her cheek.

“Damn you, Devon Spencer,” she whispered into the quiet.

Because no matter how much she tried to move on…

He was still home.

Aurelia and Maybelle strolled through the bustling streets of Chicago’s Southside, the sunlight casting golden streaks through the haze of smoke and city grime. Despite the summer warmth, Aurelia kept her arms folded across her chest. Her thoughts were still tangled from the night before — DJ’s voice, the way he looked at her, the heat of his hands on her waist, the ghost of his lips that still lingered on her skin.

Maybelle kept sneaking glances at her.

“You’ve been in La-La Land all damn morning,” she finally said, her tone playful but edged with concern. “You thinking about him, ain’t you?”

Aurelia didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

Maybelle shook her head with a smirk. “Girl, I swear, you’re about to trip over your own feet, daydreaming like that.”

Aurelia finally smiled, but it didn’t last. Her face dimmed as they rounded the corner — and nearly collided with a tall, smug figure leaning against a polished black car.

Wyatt.

Dressed in an expensive white summer suit, sunglasses perched cockily on his nose, and an unlit cigar between his fingers, he looked like arrogance personified. Two of his crew flanked him, mean-faced and heavyset, watching the girls with cold amusement.

“Well well well,” Wyatt drawled, pushing off the car. “Just the little darling I was looking for.”

Aurelia’s smile faltered. “Mr. Cane,” she said politely, dipping her chin. “I’m afraid I can’t talk long, I’ve got plans.”

Wyatt c****d his head. “Plans?” He stepped closer, eyes roaming her dress like he owned the threads. “You promised me a second date. Let’s not play hard to get now, baby girl.”

Maybelle took a subtle step between them, but Wyatt’s eyes never left Aurelia. Aurelia smiled tightly and shook her head.

“I didn’t promise anything. I said maybe. And right now, I’m—busy.”

“Busy?” Wyatt scoffed. “With what? Reading books and sipping tea with this loudmouth?” He nodded toward Maybelle with a sneer.

Aurelia’s jaw clenched, but she kept her voice even. “Please, I don’t want to cause a scene.”

But Wyatt wasn’t backing down. He stepped forward, invading her space, and grabbed her arm firmly.

“Come on, sugar,” he said with a low grin. “It’ll be fun. I’ll show you a real good time. Better than any street rat ever could.”

Aurelia tensed, panic flickering across her face.

And that’s when a voice cut through the noise — smooth, low, calm like the eye of a storm.

“Let her go.”

Wyatt froze. He turned slightly, eyebrows twitching as he caught sight of a tall figure walking casually from the shadows, toothpick between his teeth, dark eyes steady and unreadable.

DJ.

He was a vision of cold confidence, dressed sharp in black and red, the sun catching the sharp lines of his jaw and glinting off the cufflinks at his wrists. His face was unreadable, but his eyes — those burning dark eyes — were locked on Wyatt’s hand gripping Aurelia.

Wyatt didn’t let go. “Who the f**k do you think you’re talking to, you Spook?”

Aurelia gasped, her mouth parting.

DJ’s smirk was small — dangerous.

He spoke softly, clearly. “The lady said no. A real man listens. And he sure as hell doesn’t put his hands on a woman unless he’s lovin’ her.”

Wyatt’s grip finally loosened, and Aurelia pulled her arm back. She took a step away, standing slightly behind DJ. Her heart raced.

Wyatt turned fully now, jaw flexing as he looked DJ up and down. “You’re the one who’s been fuckin’ up my business.”

DJ didn’t flinch. “Just cleaning up the city,” he said coolly. “One rat at a time.”

From across the street, Aron's voice called, “Everything alright, DJ?”

DJ nodded subtly, never taking his eyes off Wyatt.

Wyatt’s lip curled, but he didn’t move. His crew tensed behind him, but didn’t step forward. Not with all the people watching — and not with two police officers standing a block away eyeing the confrontation from their patrol car.

Wyatt seethed. “This ain’t over. Watch your fuckin’ back.”

DJ stepped forward once, just enough to make Wyatt’s crew stiffen.

“I’m countin’ on it.”

Wyatt hissed through his teeth, then turned, barking at his men. They stalked off, pushing past pedestrians. DJ didn’t move until Wyatt’s car peeled off around the corner.

Aurelia stared at him, breathless.

“You alright?” DJ asked her without looking, his voice low.

She nodded slowly. “Yeah… I am now.”

Their eyes met — and even Maybelle kept quiet.