17. Brooke
Chapter 17
Brooke
T he scent of hibiscus flowers mingles with fried food as I stand behind the library’s booth at the Hibiscus Festival, my smile plastered firmly in place. The annual festival has transformed the town square into a kaleidoscope of activity and color. Brightly colored banners flutter in the breeze, live music floats through the air, and the chatter of neighbors fills every corner. It should be the perfect day, yet I can’t shake the gnawing anxiety that’s been building all morning, thanks to my conversation the other day with Melissa. I still haven’t decided what to do, and its wreaking havoc on my brain.
Across the way, the local bookstore’s booth prominently displays a stack of books with Sophie Quinn emblazoned across the covers. My books. My secret. The sight sends a shiver down my spine as a teenager eagerly picks up a copy of Whispers on the Wind and squeals to her friend, “I’ve been waiting forever to read this one!”
I turn away quickly, clutching the edge of my table to ground myself. My heart races as I picture that same girl’s reaction if she knew the woman behind the booth—manning the library’s table with its stack of free bookmarks and brochures—is Sophie Quinn herself. The idea of losing this anonymity, of exposing that part of myself to the world, makes my stomach churn even though I’m thrilled that people want to read my books. It’s a double-edge sword.
"Looking good, Brooke!" Charlie’s familiar voice jolts me from my thoughts. She’s balancing a tray of appetizers from her booth, a masterpiece of hibiscus-themed creations. "Try one of these hibiscus rolls. I promise they’re amazing!"
I force a smile and accept one. "Thanks, Charlie." The roll is every bit as delicious as expected from a world-class chef, but my stomach is too twisted to truly enjoy it.
“You want to try my hibiscus tea or my hibiscus jelly?” Charlie asks, already pouring me a small sample cup of tea.
“Sure.” I take the cup, not wanting to hurt her feelings. The tea smells delightful, but my rebellious stomach protests before I even take a sip.
Nearby, Kendall commands the festival volunteers like the competent whirlwind she always is, clipboard in hand and her signature sunglasses perched on her head. Her voice is calm but authoritative, cutting through the festival noise as she directs people to various tasks.
A little further down, Kate and Grace are serving bagels and coffee at Kate’s booth, a nod to the much-anticipated reopening of the Bean I’ll uncover every single one of them. Mark my words—there’s nowhere you can run.”
The crowd erupts into whispers, people speculating and craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the mysterious Sophie Quinn. My knees threaten to buckle, and I clutch the table tighter, my vision swimming.
Trevor’s voice is low and warning as he steps forward. “ Vivian,” he says firmly, his tone carrying a weight that cuts through her bravado.
Vivian meets his gaze, her lips twisting into a sneer. For a moment, they seem locked in a silent battle before she turns away, basking in the attention of the crowd.
Before I can fully process what’s happening, the angry man with the torch shouts again, drawing everyone’s focus back to him. The flame flickers dangerously close to the books as he raises the torch higher and beats on his drum faster.
“Sir,” Jax’s voice rings out as he and Eli arrive on the scene in uniform, their calm authority cutting through the tension. “You need to put that torch out and leave the premises.”
The man resists, his voice rising in protest, but Eli steps in, grabbing the torch with practiced ease and tossing it into the nearby harbor, extinguishing the flames with a hiss. “Time to go, buddy,” Eli says, his tone firm as he also grabs the mallet to keep the guy from beating the drum anymore.
The man continues shouting as they lead him away. “God will condemn all who read such books to a fiery death! I promise you that. A fiery death!”
The crowd watches the police escort him away, murmuring among themselves, but slowly, the commotion fades as people return to the festivities. Trevor turns back to me, his eyes filled with concern.
“Are you okay?” he asks gently, stepping closer. “You’re white as a ghost.”
I nod mechanically, but the truth is, I feel like I’m drowning. Vivian’s words, the crowd’s curiosity, the angry man’s condemnation—it’s all too much. “I think I need a minute,” I whisper, my voice trembling.
Trevor reaches for my hand, his grip strong and steady. “Let me get you out of here.” He looks over at the booth next to mine, “Charlie. Watch her booth for her, will ya?” He doesn’t wait for an answer and pulls me away from the festival .
I hesitate, my eyes searching his face. Will he feel the same way about me once he knows the truth? What happens when the secret I’ve been so carefully guarding is finally exposed?