25. Aurora
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Aurora
I barely made it to the sink in time.
My stomach lurched violently, and I gripped the edge of the counter, my breath coming in shallow gasps as I emptied what little was in my stomach.
The sharp sting of bile burned my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the wave to pass.
It didn’t.
Not right away.
This had been happening every morning for the past few days—this awful, gut-twisting sickness that left me drained and aching.
And it wasn’t just the nausea. It was everything.
The exhaustion that clung to me no matter how much I slept.
The dull ache behind my eyes from stress.
The uncertainty twisting through my chest, making it impossible to breathe.
Crap, I didn’t even know what I was going to do about this baby. I had so many questions. How could I even think about having this baby when I had no idea what I was going to do with my life.
If I went back home and carried on with my job, this was going to be a nightmare.
But at the same time, I couldn’t imagine making any rash decisions without talking to the guys yet.
Although I wasn’t sure how that conversation would start.
Urgh, it was all a mess.
I ran the water, rinsing my mouth and splashing cool relief against my face.
Gripping the sink, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I barely recognized myself. My skin was pale, my eyes shadowed.
I couldn’t keep doing this.
Hiding. Avoiding. But what was I supposed to do?
Every time I tried to figure out my next move, my thoughts tangled into an impossible knot.
Page Turners.
The legal claim.
My boss breathing down my neck, waiting for me to give him an answer.
And now this.
I pressed a hand to my stomach, my breath hitching. I had no idea what I was doing.
I should be in the city, in my office, where everything was predictable and structured.
Where I wasn’t up to my neck in legal battles and small-town drama.
Where I wasn’t growing attached to things I was never supposed to care about.
The bookstore. The town.
Them .
I swallowed hard, pushing the thought away before it could sink its claws in too deep.
I needed space. Time. A plan.
But I had none of those things.
And worse? I wasn’t sure I wanted them anymore.
I turned away from the mirror, taking a slow breath. Maybe if I kept moving, if I kept busy, I could push everything aside for just a little longer.
Maybe then, I’d finally figure out what the hell I was supposed to do.
By the time I made it to Page Turners, I was running on sheer willpower.
The morning air was crisp, the chill biting through my sweater, but it wasn’t enough to shake the exhaustion pressing against my skull.
I was halfway across the street when I smelled it.
Smoke.
My steps faltered, heart slamming against my ribs.
I scanned the storefront, my breath catching when I saw it. Blackened scorch marks near the entrance, the faint curl of burned paper along the bottom of the door frame.
A pile of charred debris sat just outside, as if someone had tried to set fire to the place but failed.
No.
No, no, no .
I ran the rest of the way, my hands shaking as I fumbled for my keys.
The lock stuck for a second before turning, and I shoved the door open, my stomach twisting at the acrid scent lingering inside.
It wasn’t a full fire. It hadn't spread.
But it was enough.
Enough to leave a mark. Enough to make my pulse thunder in my ears as I stepped inside, scanning the shop for more damage.
A section of the wooden floor near the entrance was charred, the edges of a welcome mat burned and curled. Someone had broken a window near the back, and the shards were scattered across the floor.
I exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to my mouth.
Who would do this? No. Why would someone do this?
The legal claim.
It wasn’t a coincidence. It couldn’t be.
The bookstore had been struggling for years. No one had cared about it until now. And now, someone wanted me out badly enough to send a message.
It was working.
I sank onto the nearest chair, my legs too weak to hold me up. My chest tightened, and before I could stop it, a sob tore free.
This was a mess. A disaster.
I had no idea how to fix it. I had no idea how to fight this.
I didn’t know how to be this—someone who stayed and fought instead of running when things got too complicated.
I covered my face with my hands, my breath ragged. I was so damn tired.
Of the uncertainty. Of the stress. Of caring about something I wasn’t sure I had a right to hold on to.
A faint creak sounded near the door, and I stiffened.
Someone was here.
I shot to my feet so fast my chair scraped against the floor, heart hammering. My breath hitched as a tall figure stepped inside.
Hank Lawson.
His smile was slow and calculated, like he had all the time in the world. “Rough morning, Miss Bennett?”
I swallowed hard, my stomach still churning from earlier, my pulse roaring in my ears. “What do you want?”
His gaze drifted over the damage—the charred floor, the shattered glass—before settling back on me, his smile never faltering.
“I just came to check on you.”
Bullshit.
I clenched my jaw as he took a step closer, too casual, too confident. He slid a thick manila folder across the counter.
“What is this?” My voice came out hoarse.
“A solution,” he said smoothly. “Go on. Take a look.”
My fingers felt stiff as I flipped the folder open.
Legal documents. Thick, official-looking, stamped with names I didn’t recognize but that carried weight nonetheless.
My eyes darted over the words, the meaning sinking in slowly, suffocating me.
The ownership of Page Turners was never fully settled.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“My uncle.” My voice cracked. “He owned this store. He left it to me.”
Hank let out a low hum, almost like he pitied me. “Well, it wasn’t exactly his to pass on. There were complications in the transfer of ownership years ago. Loose ends that were never properly tied up. Loose ends that need tying up now that I’m back in town. It’s time to get back what was stolen from my family.”
Stolen? Did he mean the debt?
What the hell was going on?
I shook my head, flipping through the pages. This couldn’t be right. I had the will, the paperwork.
But the words on these documents told a different story, one full of legal loopholes and fine print I didn’t fully understand.
A cold sweat broke out along my spine.
“I can fight this,” I said, but the words were weak, uncertain.
Hank exhaled, shaking his head like he was disappointed.
“Sure. You could. But that would take time. Money. Lawyers. And in the end, you’d still lose.” He tapped a finger against the folder. “But I’m offering you a way out. Sell to me, and this all goes away. No court battles. No stress. Just a clean break.”
I stared at him, my throat thick. He made it sound so easy.
If I walked away, everything would be solved. No more legal threats. No more draining my savings trying to fix this mess. No more worrying about the store, the debts, the responsibility I hadn't even asked for.
No more connection to this town.
To them .
Hank’s voice softened, coaxing. “You don’t want this, Aurora. This isn’t your life. You’ve got a career waiting for you, don’t you? A life back in the city? Why waste your time fighting a battle you can’t win? For a town that isn’t even yours.”
He took a step closer. “I mean, this isn’t your life, is it? Not your real life. But it’s threatening your real life. The more time you spend here, the more your future slips away.”
My grip tightened on the folder, my pulse pounding in my temples.
He was right. Selling would fix everything.
So why couldn’t I say yes?
I sucked in a sharp breath, trying to ignore the way my stomach twisted.
“I'll think about it,” I forced out.
Hank’s eyes gleamed, like he already knew the answer.
“Do that.” He took a step back, but not before resting a single hand on the counter, fingers tapping once against the wood. “But don’t take too long. This offer expires in three days.”
My chest constricted.
And then he was gone, leaving nothing but silence in his wake.
I stood there, gripping the folder like a lifeline, staring at the destruction around me.
Three days to decide whether to fight.
Or to let it all burn.
The second the door swung shut behind Hank, my legs gave out.
I hit the floor hard, my back against the counter, the folder still clutched in my trembling hands. My breath came too fast, too shallow, but I couldn’t seem to slow it down.
Three days.
That was all I had before this all spiraled even further out of my control.
I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my palms against my temples, but it didn’t stop the thoughts from swarming.
The smell of burnt wood still clung to the air, sharp and acrid, mixing with the lingering fear curling in my gut.
Someone had tried to burn Page Turners.
And now Hank Lawson was here, offering me an escape wrapped up in legal threats and smooth words.
My body shook, and I hated it. Hated that I felt so powerless. That I was sitting here on the floor, overwhelmed and completely alone.
Not alone.
I could call the Gradys. Ethan, Owen, Mason. Any one of them would come running if I asked.
But I couldn’t.
I was still hiding things from them. Still holding onto secrets I wasn’t ready to spill. If I called them, they’d ask questions, demand answers I wasn’t prepared to give.
I needed someone who wouldn’t push. Someone who would just be there.
With shaking hands, I fumbled for my phone, barely able to focus on the screen as I scrolled.
Then I found her name.
Lila. The closest damn friend I’d ever had in my whole life.
I hesitated for half a second before pressing the call button.
It rang twice.
“Aurora?” Her voice was bright, a little breathless, like I’d caught her in the middle of something. “Hey, what's up?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. A thick lump lodged itself in my throat, and suddenly, I was struggling to breathe all over again.
“Aurora?” Lila’s voice sharpened, shifting from casual to concerned in an instant. “What's wrong?”
I sucked in a shuddering breath.
“Can you…” My voice cracked, and I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to get the words out. “Can you come to Page Turners?”
“I’m on my way.”
No hesitation. No questions. Just that simple promise.
And for the first time since I’d walked into this nightmare, I didn’t feel like I was drowning completely alone.
Lila arrived in record time.
One second, I was curled up on the floor of Page Turners, heart pounding, hands still gripping that damn folder. The next, the door burst open, and Lila was there, eyes wide, scanning the store like she expected to find a murderer lurking in the stacks.
She spotted me and immediately dropped to her knees.
“Jesus, Aurora.” Her hands found my arms, firm but gentle. “What the hell happened?”
The question cracked something in me.
I’d spent so long trying to hold everything together, trying to convince myself I could handle it. That if I just kept my head down and pushed through, everything would sort itself out.
But now, with Lila here, her presence solid, steady… I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
A sob wrenched its way up my throat and I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head. “I don’t know where to start.”
She didn’t push, didn’t rush me. Just shifted to sit beside me, legs stretched out in front of her, one arm draped over my shoulders.
A quiet, grounding weight.
“It’s okay,” she murmured. “Take your time.”
So I did.
I told her everything.
The legal battle over Page Turners, the fire, and then Hank Lawson showing up with his threats wrapped in legal documents. And how it was starting to feel easier to just snap up my boss’s offer.
By the time I finished, I was drained.
Lila let out a slow, low whistle. “Damn.”
I huffed out a wet laugh. “Yeah.”
She was quiet for a moment, then gave my arm a light squeeze. “First things first, you're not dealing with this alone anymore, okay? I know we haven’t been friends that long, but you don’t have to go through this by yourself.”
The lump in my throat returned, thick and overwhelming. I hadn't realized just how much I needed to hear that.
I nodded, voice barely above a whisper. “Okay.”
She squeezed again, then stood, holding out a hand. “Come on.”
I blinked up at her. “Where?”
“Brewed Bean.” A hint of a smile tugged at her lips. “You need coffee . I need coffee. And Sam’s working today. Between the two of us, we'll talk some sense into you.”
I hesitated. “I don’t know if I can.”
“Nope.” She didn’t let me finish, just wiggled her fingers in front of my face. “No arguments. Let’s go.”
I stared at her for a beat longer, then exhaled and took her hand.
It looked like I was going to see another friend.
The familiar scent of roasted coffee and warm cinnamon wrapped around me as we stepped into The Brewed Bean Café.
The café was busy for mid morning, small groups of locals tucked into booths and scattered at tables. The soft hum of conversation and the hiss of the espresso machine filled the air, blending with the indie folk music playing from the speakers.
Behind the counter, Samantha was filling a to-go cup. She glanced up at the sound of the door, her face lighting up when she saw us.
“Well, if it isn’t my two favorite people.” She snapped a lid onto the cup and slid it across the counter to a waiting customer before turning to us. “What brings you in?”
Lila jerked a thumb at me. “Emergency caffeine intervention.”
Samantha’s dark eyes flicked to my face, and her expression softened.
I must’ve looked as bad as I felt.
“Say no more.” She grabbed a mug and started making something, glancing back at me as she worked. “You okay?”
Did I say yes? Pretend everything was fine?
Or did I tell the truth?
I swallowed hard. “Not really.”
Sam’s hands didn’t pause, but her voice softened. “Then let’s fix that.”
A warm cup of something sweet and spiced was placed in front of me a minute later.
Lila pulled me toward a corner booth, and the second I sat down, I felt a weight I hadn't even realized I was carrying start to lift.
I wasn’t alone anymore.
And that made it even harder to think about leaving Medford.