22. Owen
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Owen
I hadn't planned on stopping by Page Turners, but I couldn’t help myself. I needed to see her.
The door creaked open as I stepped inside, and the smell of old books hit me right away.
Familiar. Comfortable. But the air was thick with tension.
“Aurora?” I called, my voice low.
She was sitting on the floor, papers scattered around her. She looked overwhelmed.
“Aurora,” I said again, stepping closer.
She blinked, startled, then wiped her eyes quickly. “Hey, Owen.”
“Everything okay?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
She nodded, but it wasn’t convincing. “Just trying to sort this out.”
I glanced at the papers.
Clippings. Old ones.
I crouched beside her, grabbing the first one I saw. The headline caught my eye.
Grady. Bennett. It was all over the page.
I handed it back to her. “What is this?”
She didn’t meet my eyes. “I don’t know. My uncle had these. I found them in his things. You know, I said there was paperwork? Well, I guess there’s this, too.”
I scanned it again. “This is about your family and mine.”
Her fingers tightened around the paper. “I know. I didn’t think it meant anything until now.”
I frowned. “What does it mean?”
“I’m not sure yet,” she said. “But it looks like… that deal. The big one. Between our families.”
“Shit,” I muttered. “The one Ethan mentioned?”
“I think so,” she said, voice shaky. “There’s more. Another family is mentioned here. But no names. Just ‘the third party.’”
I leaned in, my gut tight. “A third party? What does that mean? Who does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, staring at the papers. “It’s like this was all covered up.”
I looked at her, really looked at her. Her eyes were wide, distant.
She was trying to hold it together, but she was falling apart.
“I’m here,” I said, locking eyes with her. “Whatever this is, I’m with you.”
She didn’t respond, just nodded, her lips trembling.
I stayed quiet for a moment, watching her, wondering how I could help. It was frustrating, not knowing enough about this.
I opened my mouth to say something, but the ringing of Aurora’s phone cut me off.
She looked at the screen, her face paling. After hesitating for a moment, she answered, her voice tight.
“Hello?” she said, almost breathless.
I watched her face shift, the color draining from it as she listened.
My gut clenched. Something was wrong.
“Aurora.” The voice on the other end was crisp, formal. At least what I could hear of it. “This is Thomas Calloway. I’m calling to inform you that a claim has officially been filed against your ownership of Page Turners.”
What ?
I didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. My focus was on her, her hands shaking as she clutched the phone.
Her breath quickened, her chest rising and falling sharply.
“What?” she murmured. “How? I thought everything was settled.”
Her voice faltered, the words trailing off. Her face was a mixture of confusion and dread.
I didn’t need to hear more to know how serious this was. Whoever had filed that claim wasn’t just messing around.
When she hung up, I couldn’t keep quiet anymore.
“What the hell is going on, Aurora?”
I stepped closer, my voice low, furious even though I had no idea who to be angry at yet.
She blinked, her own expression lost. “I don’t know. I thought it was all behind me. The paperwork, the inheritance. Everything. But now someone’s challenging it. I thought I was in the sale process, but now…”
Her eyes shifted to the papers still scattered around her, as though they might somehow explain it all.
I knew she was overwhelmed, but damn it, this wasn’t something she could handle alone.
“Who would do this?” I asked, my voice quiet but sharp.
She shook her head, clearly at a loss.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense. No one’s supposed to have a claim.” Her voice cracked. “I need to figure out who’s behind it.”
I couldn’t just stand by.
“Fuck. Well, you know we'll help you.”
She looked at me, uncertainty in her eyes. “I don’t know what to do next, Owen.”
I didn’t think. I acted.
I reached for her then, pulling her into me, wrapping my arms around her tightly.
Her body was stiff at first, unsure, but I held on, feeling her breath quicken against my chest.
Her hands rested on my shoulders, trembling. I could feel the weight of everything pressing down on her.
“Hey,” I whispered, my voice softer than I expected. “It’s going to be okay. We'll figure this out, Aurora. Don’t worry.”
She let out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging as she leaned into me.
Slowly, she relaxed, her head resting against my chest.
I felt the heat of her tears against my shirt before she even made a sound.
“I’m scared, Owen,” she whispered, her voice muffled by the fabric. “This is all so hard, and I’m already under pressure from my boss. I don’t know what to do. Should I just give Page Turners to whoever wants it? Go back to my life and forget about all of this?”
I felt a knot tighten in my chest at her words.
The weight of her fear was sinking into me, and I couldn’t stand it.
She was torn, pulled in so many directions, and all I wanted to do was make it stop.
“No,” I said, my voice firm. “I don’t think you should just think about giving this up. It isn’t what your uncle wanted.”
But even as I said the words, something twisted inside me.
Her life was in the city. Her career, her boss, everything she had worked for.
Her future.
A future that was never meant to involve us.
“You have to do what's right for you,” I whispered, sadness creeping into my voice. “Whatever that is. But don’t feel like you're trapped, Aurora. You can still make your choice. Don’t let this force you into something you don’t want to do.”
She lifted her head slightly, her eyes filled with uncertainty. She was staring at me as if trying to figure out if what I said was true.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whispered.
Then I saw it.
A hand-drawn book, half hidden beneath a pile of papers.
I pulled it out. The Adventures of Rosie and the Bookshop Dragon.
She smiled a little when she saw it. “I wrote that when I was little. I guess my uncle did keep it.”
I flipped through it, scanning my eyes over the words.
A story about a girl and a dragon who protected books.
Her story. Her dream.
“You're a good writer,” I said, looking at her. “Even at this age. I’m surprised you didn’t become an author.”
Her lips pressed together, and she nodded. “I never thought it was possible. But yeah. I’ve always wanted to.”
I held her gaze, a little surprised.
She had so many dreams that didn’t involve the city.
But of course, she was still torn.
“You still can.”
Her face faltered. “But I can’t. Not with everything else going on in my life.”
“You can,” I said, my voice sharp. “You don’t have to choose. You're not just one thing.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know how to do it all.”
I leaned in, my voice low. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now. But you can’t give up on your dreams. You deserve to chase them.”
Her hands shook, but she nodded. Slowly.
She smiled thinly. “Maybe I just take this one step at a time, huh?”