Chapter 5 Aurora #2
Finn leans back, stretching slightly, his arms resting across the back of his chair. “Secret? There’s no secret. It’s all about taking life one day at a time and knowing exactly what you want. And, of course,” he adds with a grin, “knowing how to keep things fun.”
I laugh, half rolling my eyes. “So, no big, deep philosophies? Just wing it?”
“Exactly.” He gives a mock serious nod, then adds with a wink, “Works for me. Maybe you should try it.”
I shake my head but can’t help smiling. The way he talks, so confident and carefree, makes it easy to let go of everything else.
For just a few minutes, I’m not the woman carrying grief and unanswered questions.
I’m just a woman, sitting in a bakery, eating cake, and enjoying the company of someone who doesn’t make things feel so complicated.
"Maybe I will," I say, and the words are an invitation. Maybe it’s exactly what I need.
The conversation ebbs and flows, light and fun, and as we finish our coffee, I feel like I’m beginning to breathe a little easier.
Finn’s presence is easy—he’s just a part of the scenery here.
Not like the world is waiting for him to solve everything, but he’s here to remind me that maybe life doesn’t need to be so heavy all the time.
As we walk out of the bakery, Finn flashes me that trademark grin, and I can’t help but feel a little lighter just by being around him. "So, what's next? How about a ride?"
My eyes widen slightly, intrigued. "A ride?" I ask, my heart doing a little dance I don’t quite understand. “On what, your wildly impressive bike?”
Finn laughs, his eyes lighting up. "You bet. I’ll take you on a quick spin around town, show you a few of the sights, and maybe, just maybe, you'll fall in love with my wildly impressive bike."
I raise an eyebrow, amused. "Guess I’ll be the judge of that."
“Deal,” he grins, already walking toward a sleek motorcycle parked nearby. "Hold on tight, though. I’m a wildly smooth rider."
I can’t help but chuckle, following him. “I’ve got a feeling you’re wildly exaggerating.”
He tosses me a teasing glance over his shoulder as he mounts the bike. “You’ll see.”
I walk over to the bike, my stomach fluttering with the mix of excitement and the undeniable sense of being swept up in his energy.
Finn helps me onto the back, and as I settle behind him, the closeness sends a shiver through me.
My hands instinctively rest on his waist, and he glances back over his shoulder with a grin that makes my heart race.
“You good?” he asks, low and teasing, making me think that maybe he’s aware of the effect he’s having.
“Yeah,” I reply, trying to sound casual, though my breath hitches a little as I try to get comfortable. “Just try not to kill me, alright?”
“Relax,” he laughs. “You’re in safe hands. Just hold on tight and enjoy the ride.”
Before I can even respond, Finn revs the engine, and we’re off, zooming down the quiet streets of Coyote Glen.
The wind whips through my hair, and I have to laugh at how much of a rush it is.
For a town that feels like it moves at a slow pace, it feels oddly exhilarating to be on the back of his bike, with nothing but the open road ahead of us.
Finn’s confidence is contagious, and I find myself relaxing into the moment, the world around us fading into a blur of trees, buildings, and streetlights.
“Not bad,” I shout over the roar of the engine, feeling a bit of that wild energy he's promised me. “You really are a smooth rider.”
Finn grins wide, his face lit up with the freedom of the moment. “Told you! I’ll take you on more wildly fun adventures if you’re up for it.”
The ride lasts just long enough to be exciting but not too long to make me regret the whole thing. As we approach my cabin, Finn slows down, pulling into the driveway with that effortless ease that makes it seem like he was born on a bike.
“Here we are,” he says, killing the engine, and I can hear the smile in his voice as he turns to face me. “How was that? Worth the ride?”
I laugh, still buzzing from the rush of it all. “Definitely worth the ride. But don’t think you can convince me to do this every time you want to distract me.”
He leans back slightly, giving me a mock pout. “I’m just getting started.”
I roll my eyes playfully, but there's a warmth blooming in my chest. Finn’s easy charm and carefree nature have a way of making everything feel lighter, even when the world around me still feels heavy.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say as I climb off the bike, feeling like maybe I’ve been swept off my feet a little more than I intended.
“Anytime,” Finn replies, his grin never leaving his face. “I’ll be here, making sure you don’t miss any more fun.”
I glance back at him, about to say more, but instead, I just give him a nod and a smile. “See ya, Finn.”
“See ya, Aurora,” he calls out as I turn toward the cabin, and the way he says my name sends a little spark through me that I can’t quite shake off.
As I walk up to the door, my heart still racing, I can’t help but think that maybe Coyote Glen is doing a better job of distracting me than I expected. And actually, I’m okay with that.
I open the door to my cabin and step inside, the familiar, cozy space offering some semblance of comfort. I take a deep breath, still feeling the rush of the bike ride pulsing through me. Finn’s infectious energy lingers in the air, and I think maybe I could get used to this distraction.
I close the door behind me, leaning against it, letting the quiet settle in.
The place feels empty, though. Not in an eerie way, but in that I’m still adjusting to this town way.
I glance around the cabin, taking in the soft light of the lamplights and the few belongings I’ve unpacked.
It’s starting to feel more homely, but something is still missing.
I pull my jacket off and hang it up, my eyes drifting out of the window, still buzzing from the evening. That’s when I notice it.
A truck.
A dark one, parked on the road just outside my cabin, near my car. It’s idling, the engine running in that low hum.
I frown, squinting as I try to get a better look, but it’s too dark outside. I don’t recognize the vehicle.
I shake my head, quickly dismissing the thought. It’s probably just someone passing through, maybe a local. It’s a small town; people drive by all the time. Right?
I tell myself it’s nothing. It’s probably nothing.
But then I watch it for a few more seconds. The truck doesn’t move. It just sits there, the headlights cutting through the darkness, the engine’s idle hum echoing in the quiet night air.
I bite my lip, hesitant.
I tell myself again, It’s fine. You’re just being paranoid. It’s nothing.
Maybe it’s someone waiting to make a turn or just parked. Maybe they're waiting for someone. But my stomach churns slightly, and I can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t quite right.
I glance back at the door, then back out the window again. The truck is still there, but just as I think about stepping outside to take a closer look, the truck slowly begins to move. It pulls away, driving down the road at a leisurely pace, fading into the distance.
I force myself to settle back into the evening, trying to relax as best as I can. But the unease, the quiet nagging at the edge of my mind, won’t go away completely.