24. Ethan
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Ethan
The steady rhythm of my feet hitting the packed dirt of the Fernridge Trailhead was usually enough to clear my head.
The early morning air was crisp, the scent of damp earth mixing with the faint pine that lingered in the trees.
Normally, this was my time—just me, the sound of my breath, and the dull burn in my muscles as I pushed myself forward.
No distractions. No bullshit. Just movement.
But today, no matter how fast or far I ran, my thoughts still tangled.
Aurora.
Her name lived in the back of my mind now, taking up space I wasn’t sure I was ready to give.
I gritted my teeth and picked up the pace, trying to run the tension out of my system.
Didn’t work.
The sound of twigs snapping pulled me out of my head, and I slowed as I rounded the next bend in the trail. A familiar figure was making his way toward me, his steps steady, shoulders squared.
Nate Harper, Lila’s brother.
Firefighter alongside Jaxon, Colt, and Ryan.
He nodded as he spotted me. “Ethan.”
“Nate,” I returned, slowing to a stop. “How's it going?”
“Yeah, good. You?”
I sighed heavily. “I dunno. Needed to clear my head.”
His mouth quirked. “That bad?”
I exhaled hard, shaking my head. “You don’t wanna know.”
He huffed a quiet laugh but didn’t press. Instead, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and glanced into the trees, his expression shifting.
“You keeping an eye on what's happening around town?” he asked, his tone casual, but I wasn’t stupid. There was weight behind his words.
My jaw tightened. “If you're talking about Hank Lawson, then yeah, I’ve been watching.”
Nate’s gaze swung back to me, sharp. “He's making moves. Trying to buy up businesses, land—anything he can get his hands on. Weird, right? Is he after you?”
I swore under my breath. “That son of a bitch has been after me for far too long.”
“You holding firm?”
My fists clenched at my sides. “He can make all the offers he wants. I’m not selling.”
Nate studied me for a moment, then nodded. “Good. Medford is great as is. We don’t need some asshole gentrifying it.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“It’s starting to make a lot of people nervous,” Nate murmured. “I don’t like the way this might head.”
“I can handle Lawson,” I assured him. “He's not getting his hands on the auto shop and my grandfather’s legacy, no matter what he tries.”
Nate’s lips pressed into a firm line. “Maybe. But what about her ?”
I didn’t have to ask who he meant.
Aurora.
“I know he's certain he'll get Page Turners, for a start. Do you know anything about that?”
What could I say?
Aurora wasn’t from here. She didn’t have any more family ties.
She could cave.
“I don’t know, but I hope he doesn’t get his hands on anything.”
“Me too,” Nate agreed. “I don’t like the idea of that asshole having any more control. I know his family is from Medford, but he hasn't been here for years, has he? He doesn’t have the same care about the town that the rest of us do.”
I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my damp hair. “No, he doesn’t. He just sees an opportunity, a way to flip this place into something unrecognizable and make a fortune off it.”
Nate nodded grimly. “Right. It’s almost like he's trying to fulfill some personal goal or vendetta. It’s weird.”
My chest tightened. “What can we do about it?”
Nate offered me a one-shouldered shrug. “I guess we stay strong, right? Stick together. Maybe we need a town meeting or something? Talk it out with everyone.”
“You know Hank will use a town meeting to his advantage.”
Nate nodded grimly. “We need to figure something out, right? I know my sister and all the guys at the firehouse will be on our side. Maybe everyone in the bowling league as well.”
“But we still have a lot of work to do.”
All of a sudden, this didn’t feel like such a personal battle anymore. This was something that all of us needed to take on.
The tension in my chest hadn't eased by the time I made it back to the auto shop. I killed the engine of my truck, rubbing a hand over my face before stepping out.
The parking lot was empty—too early for the guys to be in yet—but something felt off .
The kind of off that made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.
The front door was locked, same as I’d left it last night, but as I stepped inside, the first thing I noticed was the sharp metallic scent in the air.
Not oil. Not grease. Something colder.
I turned toward the break room, and that was when I saw it.
A knife, its hilt buried deep into the corkboard, and a note pinned beneath it.
I crossed the room in two strides, my jaw clenching as I ripped the paper free.
The blade was still lodged in the wall, handle smudged like someone had wiped it down.
No prints. No mistakes.
A warning.
I unfolded the note, my pulse pounding.
Back off. Sell the shop. Or else.
No name. No signature. Just those few words, written in sharp, jagged strokes.
My blood ran hot.
I wasn’t stupid. I knew exactly who was behind this.
Hank fucking Lawson.
The bastard must’ve finally lost patience with his little game of buyouts and smooth-talking bullshit.
I crushed the paper in my fist.
I’d dealt with threats before—pissed off customers, drunk idiots looking to fight—but this? This was different. This was personal.
And the worst part?
He wasn’t just coming after me. He was coming after everything I’d built.
Everything my family had built.
I took a slow breath, forcing the heat in my veins to simmer instead of burn. If Lawson thought I was just going to roll over, he was dead wrong.
I pulled my phone from my pocket, my grip still tight around the crumpled note.
This wasn’t something I could deal with alone.
Lawson had crossed a line, and if he was willing to send a message like this, then we had to be ready for whatever came next.
I dialed Mason first. He always answered.
“Yeah?” His voice was rough with sleep.
“Get to the shop. Now.”
There was a pause. “What's wrong?”
“Just get here. Bring Owen.”
A sigh. “Alright. Give me ten.”
I ended the call and shoved my phone back into my pocket, pacing the length of the break room.
My eyes kept flicking back to the knife, still embedded in the corkboard like a goddamn trophy.
Ten minutes stretched into fifteen before I heard the rumble of Mason’s truck pulling into the lot, followed by the distinct growl of Owen’s bike.
I stepped out of the break room just as the front door swung open.
Mason walked in first, his expression already tight with concern, his dark green hoodie half zipped over a wrinkled T-shirt.
Owen followed close behind, helmet tucked under one arm, brows furrowed.
“You wanna tell me why the hell we’re getting called in before sunrise?” he asked, voice sharp.
Exaggeration.
Obviously this wasn’t before sunrise, but I didn’t need to point that out when he was pissed.
I didn’t answer right away.
Instead, I turned and stalked back into the break room, letting them follow.
When they stepped inside, their eyes landed on the knife in the corkboard.
Mason let out a low whistle. “Shit.”
Owen’s gaze darkened as he walked closer, plucking the crumpled note from my fist. He smoothed it out, reading the jagged words, his jaw tightening.
“Back off. Sell the shop. Or else.” He exhaled sharply, muttering, “Son of a bitch.”
Mason leaned against the table, arms crossed. “You think it was Lawson?”
I met his gaze. “Who else?”
Owen shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “This is a new low. I mean, we knew he was a snake, but this? He's getting desperate.”
“Desperate means dangerous,” I muttered. “He's done playing nice. Now he's trying to scare us into selling.”
Mason scoffed. “Yeah, well, he picked the wrong damn family to threaten.”
I nodded, but the weight of it all pressed heavy on my chest.
It wasn’t just about the shop anymore. It wasn’t just about us.
I pushed a hand through my hair and exhaled hard. “Nate Harper ran into me on the trail this morning. He says Lawson’s making moves all over town, trying to buy up land, businesses… trying to get his hands on Page Turners.”
That got their attention.
Owen straightened. “Wait, you think that's why Aurora is having legal troubles?”
His words hit like a sucker punch. Legal troubles?
I stared at him, trying to process what the hell he’d just said. “Hold up. What do you mean, ‘legal troubles’?”
Owen exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “Someone filed a claim against her right to Page Turners. She got a call from her lawyer yesterday.”
My stomach tightened. “Who the hell would do that?”
Owen shook his head. “Don’t know. But it’s serious. Someone’s saying she doesn’t legally own the store, that there’s some kind of claim that puts everything in question.”
Mason let out a low whistle. “Jesus.”
I clenched my fists. “What the fuck is happening ?”
Owen shrugged.
Mason crossed his arms. “You think Lawson’s behind this?”
Owen met my gaze. “If I had to bet? Yeah. I know she didn’t get a name, but I can bet it’s him.”
I gritted my teeth, my pulse pounding.
It made sense. Too much sense.
Aurora wasn’t from here. She didn’t have deep roots. That made her an easier target. He had already confronted her at the festival.
“He's trying to force her out first,” I muttered. “Start the ball rolling.”
Owen nodded. “Either that or he's just making her life hell until she gives up on her own.”
Something hot and sharp twisted in my gut.
I hated this.
“She's thinking about leaving,” Owen said quietly, like he could hear the thought in my head. “Sooner rather than later.”
I snapped my gaze to him. “Leaving?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “She said she doesn’t know if it’s worth fighting for. Between the store, the legal mess, and the pressure from her boss in the city… She's torn.”
I inhaled through my nose, forcing myself to stay calm.
Mason let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “So what's the plan? ‘Cause I’m not about to sit around and wait for Lawson to make another move.”
I nodded. “Nate suggested a town meeting. Get everyone together. Make sure Lawson knows we’re not rolling over.”
Owen tilted his head. “He’d show up to that, you think?”
Mason smirked. “Oh, he’d show. Guys like him love the sound of their own voice.”
I crossed my arms. “Good. Let him talk. Let him try to sell his bullshit. It'll just make it clearer to everyone exactly what he's after.”
Owen exhaled, tapping the note against his palm. “Alright. Let’s do it. Let’s call the meeting. But we need to make sure people actually show. We need business owners, longtime residents, anyone who gives a damn about Medford.”
I glanced between my brothers, something solid settling in my chest.
This was our town. Our home.
And we weren’t letting Lawson take it without a fight.