34. Aurora
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Aurora
The morning light filtered through the front windows of Page Turners, casting a golden glow over the shelves.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air, mingling with the familiar smell of old paper and ink.
I exhaled slowly, running my fingers along the edges of a hardcover as I stacked a fresh display near the front counter.
It was early—too early for customers—but I needed the quiet.
The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of stress, long nights, and the constant fear that everything I was fighting for could slip through my fingers.
I straightened the last book and stepped back, trying to admire my work, but my mind wouldn’t settle. There was still so much up in the air, and I had no idea what was going to happen.
No matter how many times I tried to push away the worst-case scenarios, I couldn’t stop bracing for the next hit.
The bell over the door jingled, breaking me from my thoughts.
I turned, expecting a delivery, or maybe Lila dropping by with an obscenely sugary pastry in hand.
But it wasn’t a delivery. And it wasn’t Lila.
It was Mason.
I could tell immediately that something was different.
He stood in the doorway, broad shoulders filling the space, his hands braced at his sides like he was still carrying the weight of a battle. His gray T-shirt was rumpled, his jeans slung low on his hips, like he’d gotten dressed in a hurry. Or maybe hadn't slept at all.
And his eyes.
They burned with something electric. Something sharp.
My heart kicked up. “Mason?”
He stepped inside, the door swinging shut behind him, and locked eyes with me.
“It’s over,” he said.
The words didn’t land right away. I blinked, trying to catch up. “What?”
Mason took another step closer, the edges of his mouth curling like he was fighting back a grin.
“Hank,” he said, voice low and sure. “He's done. They arrested him last night.”
I stared at him, my breath catching somewhere between disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.
“He was caught on security footage vandalizing businesses, including yours,” Mason continued. “Davis and Hall got the warrant. I confronted him at Lucky’s, let the whole damn town hear what he did. And then I watched them slap the cuffs on him and drag him out the door.”
A sharp, startled laugh broke from my throat. My hands flew to my mouth as the full weight of his words settled.
Hank was gone.
He was really, truly gone.
The threat that had been looming over my head, the constant fear of losing Page Turners, the endless fight just to hold onto what little I had left—it wasn’t my burden anymore.
I sucked in a shaky breath. “Oh my God.”
Mason’s expression softened as he closed the distance between us. “Yeah.”
For a second, I didn’t know what to do.
My thoughts were a tangled mess, flipping between shock, disbelief, and something so overwhelming I didn’t dare name it.
And then I moved.
Before I could think twice, I launched myself at him.
Mason caught me instantly, his arms wrapping around me like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.
I felt the solid press of his chest, the steady thud of his heartbeat under my cheek, the way his breath hitched when I clung to him just a little tighter.
His voice was rough when he murmured, “Told you I wouldn’t let him win.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, letting myself sink into him for just a second longer. “I know.”
Mason pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at me.
His fingers brushed the side of my face, his thumb skimming my cheekbone like he was memorizing the way I felt under his touch.
There was something unspoken in his gaze, something heavy and undeniable.
I felt it too. But I wasn’t ready to name it.
Not yet.
Instead, I let out a breathless laugh, shaking my head. “You're lucky I don’t make you pay me back for all the coffee I stress-drank because of this.”
Mason smirked. “I’d consider it a fair trade for single-handedly saving your bookstore.”
I arched a brow. “Single-handedly?”
He grinned. “Okay, fine. Maybe Davis and Hall helped a little. And Ethan and Owen. And the rest of the town.” I laughed, the sound freer than it had been in weeks.
Mason’s smirk lingered, but his eyes darkened.
Something that sent a slow, delicious warmth curling through my stomach.
His hand was still on my cheek, his thumb tracing a lazy pattern against my skin.
I felt the calluses on his fingers, the roughness of a man who built and fixed things with his own two hands.
And then his gaze flicked to my lips.
Everything else in the world—the bookstore, the stress, even the shock of Hank’s arrest—faded into the background.
I barely had time to take a breath before Mason closed the space between us.
His lips met mine in a way that stole the air right from my lungs.
He kissed me like he meant it, in a far more romantic way than usual.
I kinda felt like this was… Was it?
Could I say the L word? Was that wild?
I rose onto my toes, my fingers fisting in his T-shirt as he deepened the kiss, his other hand finding my waist, pulling me flush against him.
My heart was a riot in my chest, my pulse hammering in my ears, but I didn’t care.
I didn’t think. I just felt.
When he finally pulled back, I was breathless. My lips tingled, my body humming with something I wasn’t ready to let go of just yet.
Mason exhaled, his forehead resting against mine for a moment before he grinned.
“Damn,” he murmured, his voice rough.
I huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. Damn.”
He let his fingers trail down my arm before taking my hand, lacing our fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Come on,” he said.
I blinked, still trying to recover. “Come on where?”
His grin turned mischievous. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
That snapped me out of my haze. I narrowed my eyes. “A surprise?”
Mason tugged me toward the door. “You're just gonna have to trust me, babe.”
The morning air was crisp as Mason led me through town, our hands still joined.
I didn’t ask where we were going. I knew he wouldn’t tell me.
He had that look in his eye, the one that meant he was up to something, and I couldn’t help but feel a little thrill at whatever he had planned.
We passed the familiar sights of Medford, but soon the streets thinned, giving way to open roads and towering pines.
The outskirts of town.
My brow furrowed, but Mason’s grip on my hand tightened as if to reassure me.
Then I saw it. A house.
Not just any house—an incredible house.
It was a sprawling, beautifully restored Craftsman-style home, set back from the road with a wide wraparound porch and tall windows that reflected the early morning light.
The kind of house that felt alive , full of stories just waiting to be written.
And standing in front of it, leaning against Mason’s truck, were Ethan and Owen.
I came to a dead stop.
Mason chuckled, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Come on. This is your surprise.”
I turned to him, my heart hammering. “Mason, what is this?”
Ethan pushed off the truck, crossing his arms over his chest with a rare, satisfied smile. “It’s home.”
Home .
The word hit me like a freight train.
Owen stepped forward, rubbing the back of his neck like he wasn’t sure how I’d react.
“We’ve been looking for a while now. We wanted somewhere big enough. Somewhere for us.” His gaze flicked to my stomach, the smallest hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “And for the baby.”
I sucked in a breath, my chest tight with something I couldn’t name.
“You bought this?” My voice was barely above a whisper.
Mason turned to face me fully, his hands resting on my hips. “We bought this,” he corrected. “For you. For us. For the life we didn’t even know we needed.”
Tears burned at the backs of my eyes, and I blinked up at him, my fingers trembling against his chest. “Guys, I…”
“Come inside,” Ethan said, jerking his head toward the house. “There’s something you need to see.”
I let Mason guide me up the steps, my pulse racing.
The second we stepped through the front door, warmth wrapped around me.
Sunlight spilled through the windows, illuminating the open-concept living space—dark wood beams, a massive stone fireplace, a kitchen big enough for more than one person to cook at a time.
It was perfect.
But Mason kept walking, leading me down a hallway until he stopped at a door. He turned the knob and stepped aside.
I inhaled sharply.
A nursery.
A fully stocked, carefully thought-out nursery.
Soft cream-colored walls. A hand-carved wooden crib. A rocking chair next to the window. Shelves already lined with books, tiny clothes folded neatly in a dresser.
Everywhere I looked, I saw pieces of them.
The mobile above the crib? Owen’s handiwork. The books? Ethan’s selections. The small, framed painting of the Medford skyline? Mason’s pick, I was sure of it.
I pressed a hand to my mouth, my throat tight. “You did all this?”
Mason slid an arm around my waist. “We did.”
“For you,” Owen added, his voice softer than usual.
“For us,” Ethan corrected.
Emotion swelled in my chest, too big to contain.
I turned in Mason’s arms, looking at all of them, these men who had somehow become mine.
This was more than a house. This was more than a nursery.
This was home.
The life I didn’t even know I needed.
A shaky laugh bubbled up from my throat as I looked at them, tears brimming in my eyes.
“I love you,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
Ethan’s jaw tightened just slightly, but his eyes softened.
Owen exhaled like he’d been holding his breath.
And Mason? Mason just grinned, his dimples deep, his hands sliding up to cup my face as he kissed me again, slow, deep, like he was sealing a promise.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine. “Welcome home, babe. I hope you know that we all love you, too.”