14. Owen
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Owen
The garage was quiet. Too quiet.
I was wiping down a socket wrench when Mason walked in, looking pissed, and tossed something onto the workbench.
A key. Brass. Ornate edges.
A little worn.
I glanced at him. “Okay. And?”
“Recognize it?”
I picked it up, turning it over. “Should I?”
“It’s from Page Turners.”
That got my attention. I looked up. “You sure?”
“Aurora's sure.” His tone was sharp. “Said it's the same kind her uncle has in the basement.”
I frowned. “Where’d you find it?”
“Here. In the shop.”
I let out a slow breath. “You have no idea how it got here?”
Mason’s jaw tightened. “No, Owen. I don’t.”
Shit.
I set the key down. “Ethan?”
“I'll ask him, but I doubt it.” Mason ran a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t make sense. Why the hell would we have a key to her place?”
Good question.
I’d never set foot in Page Turners before Aurora came back. Neither had Mason, far as I knew.
Which meant either Ethan had some explaining to do…
Or we had a bigger problem.
I exhaled. “Adding this to the growing list of weird shit happening around here.”
Mason grunted. “No kidding.”
I rolled the key between my fingers. Something about this felt off .
Mason crossed his arms. “We need to ask Ethan.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Let’s…”
The shop door swung open, and Hank Lawson stepped inside, all smug confidence and fake charm. He wore a tailored jacket, too nice for a place like this, and smelled like expensive cologne.
Mason stiffened.
I clenched my jaw.
Hank fucking Lawson.
“Afternoon, boys.” His voice had that oily smoothness that made my skin crawl. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”
Mason didn’t move. “What do you want?”
Hank smiled like we were old friends.
We weren’t.
“Same thing I wanted last time. And the time before that.” He slid his hands into his pockets. “I’m making another offer.”
My hands curled into fists.
The auto shop. He wanted it.
Just like he wanted half the damn town.
“No.” Mason’s voice was flat.
Hank tsked. “You haven’t even heard my price.”
“Don’t need to.”
His smile stayed, but there was something sharp in his eyes. “You boys are holding onto a sinking ship. I’m offering a lifeboat.”
Mason stepped forward, tension rolling off him in waves. “We’re not selling.”
Hank sighed, shaking his head like we were disappointing children. “You're making a mistake.”
I stepped beside Mason. “Pretty sure it’s our mistake to make.”
Hank studied us for a beat. Then he chuckled. “Stubborn, just like your grandfather.”
Mason’s jaw twitched. I took a slow breath, keeping my temper in check.
Hank adjusted his cufflinks. “Well. The offer stands. But don’t wait too long. This town’s changing, whether you like it or not. When you're ready to hear my price, let me know.”
He turned and strolled out, whistling like he hadn't just threatened everything we’d built.
The second the door shut, Mason exhaled sharply.
“Asshole.”
My mind went back to the mistakes we seemed to be making lately, but nothing came up in our investigation. Could it have been a coincidence that we got complaints from our clients at the same time Hank started pestering us about selling?
He seemed like the kind of guy who would do anything to get his way, but I doubted he’d bothered to tank our business like that.
"Yep.” I ran a hand through my hair. “What do you think his plan is for Medford?”
Mason snorted. “To turn it into a generic place—nothing special.”
I rolled my eyes. “Where the hell is Ethan?”
Mason rubbed his jaw. “Gym, I think. Let’s go.”
We didn’t have to. A second later, Ethan walked in, shaking out his damp hair. His shirt was soaked with sweat, knuckles red.
Probably went too hard on the bag.
He paused when he saw us. “What?”
Mason didn’t waste time. “Hank was just here.”
Ethan’s expression darkened. “That son of a bitch.”
“Offered to buy the shop again.”
Ethan rolled his shoulders like he was physically shaking off the thought. “What’d you tell him?”
Mason gave him a look. “What do you think?”
Ethan’s jaw clenched. “Next time, call me. I’d love to tell him personally where to shove it.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not like he's giving up,” I muttered.
Mason sat on the edge of the workbench, crossing his arms. “That's not all.”
Ethan raised a brow.
Mason grabbed the key and held it up. “Recognize this?”
Ethan frowned, stepping closer. Then his brows pulled together.
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I found it in a lockbox a while back.”
Mason and I exchanged looks.
Ethan eyed us. “What?”
Mason’s voice was tight. “That key’s from Page Turners.”
Ethan’s frown deepened. “Is it?”
“Something in the basement,” I added.
Ethan turned the key over in his fingers. “Huh.”
“That's it?” Mason snapped. “You find a key to her place and just… huh ?”
Ethan sighed. “I didn’t know where it was from. Figured it was something Pop left behind.” He looked between us. “You think this means something?”
Mason scoffed. “You don’t?”
Ethan rolled his shoulders, but his eyes were sharp.
Too much shit was happening at once. Too many weird connections.
We needed to clear our heads.
I clapped Ethan on the back. “Lucky’s?”
He exhaled. “Yeah. Let’s get a drink.”
Lucky's was already buzzing when we walked in. The smell of beer and fried food filled the air, country music twanging from the old jukebox.
The three of us headed straight for the bar, tension still thick between us.
Ethan ordered whiskey. Mason and I stuck to beer.
None of us spoke at first. We just sat there, letting the alcohol work through the frustration of the day.
It was Mason who finally broke the silence.
“We need to figure this shit out.”
Ethan let out a dry laugh. “Which part? The key? The shop? Hank? Or the fact that we’re all sleeping with the same woman?”
Mason and I both shot him a look.
“What?” He shrugged. “It's the elephant in the room.”
Mason swirled his beer, staring at the amber liquid. “So what do we do about it?”
Ethan exhaled. “Hell if I know.”
I leaned back, stretching my arms over the barstool. “We could fight about it.”
Ethan arched a brow. “You wanna take a swing?”
I huffed. “Not really.”
“Good.” He smirked. “You’d lose.”
Mason groaned. “Jesus, can we be serious for a second?”
I drummed my fingers against the wood. “Alright. You wanna be serious? Let’s be serious. What if we’re looking at this wrong?”
Mason frowned. “What do you mean?”
I took a long pull from my beer. “Lila and the guys.”
That got their attention. Ethan’s eyes narrowed.
“It works for them, doesn’t it?”
Mason made a face. “I thought about— It’s different.”
“Is it?” I challenged. “Lila loves them. They love her. They don’t fight over her like idiots. They figured it out. They even have a kid together.”
Ethan was quiet for a long moment, tracing the rim of his glass.
Mason exhaled. “You think Aurora would even want that?”
I thought of Aurora. Of how she looked at each of us.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I think we need to find out.”
Ethan took a long drink, then set his glass down with a thud. “And if she doesn’t? I mean, we have to remember, she has a life out of Medford that she wants to go back to.”
Mason shook his head. “I don’t think she does.”
Ethan’s brow furrowed. “What?”
Mason leaned forward, resting his forearms on the bar. “She told me she's not sure she even wants to go back.”
That got both of our attention.
I set my beer down. “She said that?”
Mason nodded. “She's feeling stuck. Torn between the life she built and,” He exhaled, shaking his head. “And something else. Maybe this place. Maybe us.”
Ethan swore under his breath, rubbing his jaw.
I processed that for a second.
Aurora, who’d shown up in Medford with a plan.
Aurora, who was supposed to be here for a few days, wrap things up and go back to her life in the city.
And now?
She wasn’t sure.
Ethan looked down at his whiskey, then let out a slow breath. “I didn’t expect that.”
Mason shrugged. “I don’t think she expected it, either.”
Ethan’s fingers tightened around his glass. “So what does that mean?”
Mason ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, man. But it means something.”
The three of us sat there, letting that settle.
Aurora wasn’t just some fling passing through town. She wasn’t a temporary distraction.
She was considering staying.
And maybe she was considering us .