23. Aurora
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Aurora
The hours blurred together.
I'd spent the entire day with Thomas Calloway, trying to pry answers out of him. But all I got were vague assurances and cryptic statements that led nowhere.
The legal mess surrounding Page Turners was more complicated than I ever imagined.
Whoever was challenging my ownership had every intention of making this as difficult as possible, and no one seemed to know anything concrete.
I was spent. My brain felt like it was on fire, my thoughts jumping from one dead end to the next.
I couldn’t breathe in this uncertainty.
My uncle’s legacy was being shredded by invisible hands, and I was helpless to stop it.
I stepped through the doors of the Medford Inn, the familiar scent of polished wood and candle wax hitting me instantly.
It was always a comforting place to return to after a long day, but tonight, it felt a little colder than usual.
Nancy Hayes was sitting behind the front desk, her hands busy sorting through some papers. When she looked up, she smiled warmly at me, but I could tell she sensed my exhaustion.
“Long day?” she asked, her voice soft, knowing the answer before I even said a word.
I let out a long breath, sinking into one of the chairs by the fire. “You could say that. I’m having some issues with Page Turners.”
Nancy nodded and set the papers down, her expression turning serious. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you something, Aurora. Something that might make all this a little clearer.”
I straightened up, alert now. “What do you mean?”
What the hell was going on now ?
She hesitated, looking around the inn as though making sure no one was listening, before she lowered her voice. “I think I owe you an explanation about your uncle. I don’t know if it'll help, but you deserve to know.”
I leaned forward, my heart pounding. “What do you know, Nancy?”
She took a deep breath. “Your uncle, he wasn’t in a good place when he passed. I don’t think you were ever told this, but he was being blackmailed.”
My mind whirled. “Blackmailed? By who?”
Nancy shook her head slowly. “I don’t know, sweetie. Your uncle owed someone a lot of money. He knew he was sick and he was trying to make things right, but the heart attack came before he could get his business in order.” She trailed off, her gaze distant, the weight of her words sinking in.
I was stunned. “How do you know this?”
Nancy met my eyes. “I’ve lived in Medford a long time. Your uncle was a good man, but he wasn’t perfect. He kept things quiet, and he had a way of getting in over his head. A few people knew about the debt, but no one knew who he owed. Not even me.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. “How much money are we talking about?”
Nancy’s lips pressed together. “Enough that it would’ve ruined him if it came to light. Enough that it could’ve put everything at risk. The bookstore, his reputation, everything he worked for.”
I shook my head, trying to process what she was saying. “But why didn’t anyone tell me? Why didn’t I know any of this? I briefly even met Beatrice Callahan when I first arrived, and she said nothing.”
Nancy’s eyes softened with sympathy.
“He kept it from everyone, Aurora. Even the people closest to him. He was trying to settle the debt before he died.” She sighed, her voice lowering. “By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late. He was gone.”
I stared at her, the confusion swirling in my chest. “Who was he trying to pay? Who is this person?”
She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. He never said. But I do know this: whoever he owed, they’re still out there. And now, it seems like it’s affecting you.”
I blinked, my head spinning.
Blackmail. Debt.
My uncle had been hiding something from me, and now, it was tearing apart everything he left behind.
I leaned back, staring at the flames in the fireplace, but they offered no warmth, no comfort.
“What do I do now?” I asked quietly, the weight of it all pressing down on me. “Maybe find Beatrice?”
Nancy didn’t answer right away. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before speaking again.
“I don’t have the answers, sweetie. But maybe someone else does. Someone who’s been around Medford long enough to know more than they let on.”
I nodded, trying to digest everything she’d told me. It was a lot.
It felt like every time I thought I was getting closer to understanding my uncle’s death, more questions opened up.
How could he have been blackmailed? Who was this person he owed? And why hadn't anyone told me about it sooner?
Was the break-in connected to this? It had to be.
And then there was Hank Lawson, yelling at me at the festival. But if it was him, wouldn’t he have just told me about the debt instead of being so cryptic?
A heavy silence settled between us, broken only by the crackling fire.
My mind raced, turning over Nancy’s words, trying to make sense of them.
If my uncle had been blackmailed, if he had owed someone a life-altering debt, then whoever was behind this legal battle for Page Turners might not just be some opportunistic investor.
Maybe they were connected.
“Well, thank you for letting me know.”
She smiled sadly. “I wish I could do more. If you need anything, please let me know.”
I didn’t want to think about it anymore, so I made my way upstairs to my room, needing to escape the tension.
The door clicked behind me as I stepped into the quiet space, and I sank onto the bed, feeling the exhaustion of the day seep into my bones.
I tried to push everything out of my mind, but it wasn’t working.
Everything kept circling back to Page Turners, to my uncle, to the claim against my ownership, and to my other life.
My real life.
I was stuck.
Torn between the life I was building here and the future I’m supposed to have. Between loyalty to my uncle’s memory and my own aspirations.
Whatever they were.
I stood up, needing to clear my head. I went into the bathroom, the cool tile floor a welcome relief beneath my feet.
As I reached for my toothbrush, my eyes drifted to the counter where I had left the small box of tampons.
My stomach dropped.
It had been weeks.
I hadn't even realized at first, the constant stress of everything clouding my mind, but now that I saw them, the thought hit me like a punch to the gut.
My period. I’d missed it.
Not by a few days, but over a week.
I hadn't even noticed, too focused on everything else, but a realization washed over me, and I felt a rush of panic.
Could it be?
No.
It couldn’t. Not now.
I shook my head hard, as if I could physically force the thought out of my mind.
It was ridiculous. Impossible.
But still, something wasn’t right.
I was exhausted in a way that sleep couldn’t fix.
My emotions swung from one extreme to the next. Raw, unpredictable, like a storm I couldn’t outrun. My body felt foreign, my breaths too shallow, my focus shattered.
I thought it was just being here in Medford, but the signs were there, staring me in the face, daring me to acknowledge them.
Could stress really cause this? Could anxiety twist my body into betraying me like this?
Or was there something far worse lurking beneath the surface?
I reached for the box of tampons, my fingers curling around it, clutching it like it could somehow anchor me.
But the longer I stared, the heavier the weight in my chest became.
A sharp breath shuddered through me.
No. I couldn’t ignore this.
I needed to know.
My hands trembled as I grabbed my phone, my fingers moving too fast, too frantic as I typed: “Nearest pharmacy.”
I didn’t want to do this.
Not now. Not when my entire life felt like it was already unraveling, thread by thread, secret by secret.
But I had to.
The cold night air slapped against my skin as I stepped outside, but it did nothing to calm the feverish heat rising inside me.
My car was parked right by the entrance to the inn—delivered at last by Ethan—but just the thought of getting inside made me breathe hard.
No, I needed to move, to feel the cold air in my lungs, to focus on anything but what was coming.
Every step felt sluggish, my boots scraping against the pavement as the weight in my stomach coiled tighter, heavier.
By the time I reached the pharmacy, my pulse was a roar in my ears, my fingers stiff as I reached for the test.
The cashier’s voice was a distant hum, polite chatter drowned out by the sheer, suffocating pressure in my chest.
I barely remembered the walk back to the Medford Inn.
I barely remembered locking myself in the bathroom, my breath coming in uneven bursts as I stared down at the small, unassuming box in my hands.
I told myself it was just a test.
Just a precaution. A way to silence the doubt before it grew into something unbearable.
But deep down, I already knew.
The minutes crawled by, each one stretching longer, heavier, an eternity trapped in a room too small for the fear clawing at my ribs.
I paced.
I gripped the counter.
I counted down the seconds with my pulse hammering in my throat.
Then I looked.
The world narrowed, my vision tunneling as I read the result.
Positive .
A rush of air left my lungs, but it wasn’t relief. It was pure, unfiltered panic.
I was pregnant.