Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Aurora
Early afternoon—I guess I slept in a lot today—arrives with zero regard for my emotional state.
It barges in through the windows of The Hollow like, Good news!
You’re alive, and things are complicated!
Sunlight slants across the floor, bright and intrusive, illuminating the fact that I’m not in my cabin, and definitely not alone.
I lie there for a minute, still annoyed about being escorted as a misplaced package.
The bar downstairs is already awake. I can hear footsteps, the low murmur of voices, the clink of glass.
Eventually, hunger wins. It usually does.
I drag myself up, tug on my boots, run my fingers through my hair until it looks intentionally messy, and head downstairs.
The moment I step into the main bar space, the atmosphere shifts.
Not in a danger way. In a people are clocking me way.
Zane’s there, leaning near the bar with a coffee in his hand. He straightens when he sees me.
“Morning.”
“Afternoon,” he replies teasingly. Like we didn’t spend last night treating my existence as a security risk.
I hesitate, then say the thing that’s been forming in my brain since approximately three seconds after I woke up. “I was thinking about grabbing coffee. At the Coyote Cup.”
He nods immediately. “I’ll walk with you.”
“I don’t—” I start.
“I know.” He smirks. “I’m hungry too.”
Which is somehow worse, because now I can’t argue without sounding like I’m rejecting kindness instead of autonomy.
The walk across the street is short, but my brain uses all ten seconds to overthink everything. The air is crisp, the kind that feels like it’s doing me a favor. Zane keeps pace beside me without crowding my space, hands loose, posture relaxed.
Protective. But not suffocating.
Inside, the Coyote Cup smells mouth-wateringly delicious. Coffee and cinnamon and baked things that have never hurt anyone. Warmth wraps around me instantly, and my shoulders drop without asking permission.
Lani’s head snaps up the second she sees me.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” she says, already grinning. “You’re still here.”
I blink. “I… yeah.”
“I knew it when you were here the other day with Dottie, I thought, oh no, this one’s already been claimed by the town.”
My mouth quirks. “That obvious?”
“Sweetheart,” she says warmly, steering me toward the counter, “anyone Dottie Langford latches onto is either family, scandal, or about to be. Sit.”
I sit because resistance feels pointless.
“You okay?” she asks, softer now. “Dottie doesn’t usually trail people unless she cares.”
“She knew my grandma,” I say. “Pretty well.”
“That tracks,” Lani nods. “Evie was good people, or so I’ve heard. Stubborn. Kind. Had opinions.” She smiles. “So. That makes you my business now.”
“I didn’t realize that was a thing,” I say.
“Oh, it’s a thing,” she replies cheerfully. “Coffee first. Interrogation later.”
She pours me a mug before I can object. Extra cream. No question.
Zane takes a seat a few tables away. pretending he’s focused on his coffee and not casually scanning the room as a very quiet, very handsome sentry.
Another employee leans against the counter nearby, arms crossed, studying me with open curiosity. She can’t be more than sixteen, but she has the confidence of someone who’s already decided who she is.
“So,” she says, grinning. “You’re the new girl. I’m Savannah.”
I laugh. “Is it that obvious? Aurora.”
“Kinda,” she says. “You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“Like you’re trying very hard not to fall in love with the place.”
Lani snorts. “Good luck with that.”
The coffee is perfect. I take a sip and feel my spine unclench by about three degrees.
“So,” Lani says casually, leaning her elbows on the counter. “You planning to be here long?”
“I don’t know yet,” I admit. “A few days. Maybe more.”
Her eyes soften. “That’s how it starts.”
Savannah’s gaze flicks briefly toward Zane, then back to me. “That’s how everyone ends up staying.”
I glance at Zane without meaning to. He catches my look, lifts his coffee in a silent toast, then looks away. I guess he doesn’t want to read too much into it.
The bell over the door explodes into noise.
“Oh… no,” Lani mutters fondly. “Brace yourselves.”
A woman barrels in first, hair in a messy bun, diaper bag slung over one shoulder like she’s late to something important. She’s juggling a stroller with one hand and a leash with the other.
The leash is attached to a gremlin.
The gremlin is a French bulldog in a neon harness who launches himself forward, skidding across the floor, snorting and wheezing with purpose.
The stroller rattles ominously.
One child is hanging halfway out of it upside down. Another is chanting something that sounds suspiciously like a spell. The third is very deliberately attempting to feed a biscotti to the dog.
“Oh, nope, Max, we do not feed Pickle baked goods,” Ivy says calmly, as if this sentence exists in her daily vocabulary. “Mia, feet inside the stroller. Lily, sweetheart, if you let go of that cup, gravity will win.”
Gravity does, in fact, win.
Lily’s sippy cup hits the floor. Pickle lunges. Someone laughs loudly.
“Triplets,” Ivy says apologetically to me, like that explains everything. “Max, Mia, Lily.”
Max pops upright long enough to wave. “Hi!”
Mia squints at me, deciding whether I’m a friend or a future accomplice.
Lily just smiles and hands me a slightly damp napkin like it’s a gift.
“Oh my goodness,” I breathe as Pickle attempts to climb my leg.
“Pickle, no, sir,” the woman says sternly, which does nothing. “I am begging you to respect personal space.”
Behind her, more people pour in.
Two men who look identical but somehow opposite, one broad and watchful, the other quieter, shoulders tense, bracing for impact. A third man trails them, charming smile already deployed, holding a little girl on his hip who is chewing on a pastry.
“Sorry!” the woman calls as Pickle successfully steals a napkin. “We’re here to cause trouble.”
Lani laughs. “You always do, Ivy.”
She finally gets the stroller parked, the triplets seated, and sucks in a breath.
“Sorry for ruining your calm day,” she chuckles. “I know, we’re a bit like a circus. I’m Ivy Fletcher, by the way.”
She gestures behind her.
“These are the Everetts… Mitchell,” she points to the taller twin, who gives me a nod that feels like a character assessment, “and Timothy,” she adds, nodding to the quieter one, who offers a small, shy smile. “And that’s Freddie,” she says, motioning to the charming one. “With Penny.”
The little girl glances up from her screen. “Hi.”
“And obviously the triplets, and my new baby, Allyson.”
“Hi,” I say, smiling despite myself. They might be loud, but damn, they shine bright. Although I don’t totally get the dynamics here yet.
“I’m Aurora,” I add. “Nice to meet all of you.”
“Well,” Ivy says decisively, “you look like someone who could use coffee and maybe emotional support.”
Lani snorts. “She’s already halfway there.”
Ivy beams. “Perfect. You’re with us now.”
I blink. “I am?”
She nods as if this is settled. “Absolutely.”
They gather around like it’s instinctual, filling the space with warmth and noise. Pickle knocks over a chair. Timothy rights it without comment. Freddie makes Penny laugh. Mitchell scans the room with quiet intensity.
Zane glances over from his table, eyebrows lifting slightly at the sudden crowd, but he gets back to his phone screen, clearly wanting to keep to himself for now.
“The Hollow being sold has everyone buzzing,” Ivy says conversationally once drinks are secured. “Some folks are nervous. New ownership, motorcycle guys…”
“Others are excited,” Freddie adds. “Fresh blood.”
“Town loves something to talk about,” Timothy says quietly.
I nod, keeping my answers careful. “I’ve noticed.”
I try not to say too much. I don’t mention sleeping above the bar. I don’t mention the truck. I don’t mention how none of this was part of the plan.
Somewhere between Pickle stealing a biscotti and Max attempting to climb onto Timothy like he’s a piece of furniture, I start to notice patterns.
At first, it’s just little things.
The way Ivy leans back without looking, and Mitchell’s hand automatically comes up to still her coffee before it spills.
The way Freddie shifts Penny onto his other hip so Timothy can tuck a blanket around her legs without anyone saying a word.
The way Timothy murmurs something low to Mitchell that makes him soften, just barely, the volume knob on his shoulders turns down.
It’s… comfortable.
My brain does that thing where it quietly lines up evidence without telling my mouth.
They’re a unit.
It clicks.
Oh.
Ohhh.
My eyebrows lift before I can stop them.
Ivy catches it immediately.
Her smile turns knowing, like she’s not about to make a big deal out of it unless I do.
“You clocked us,” she says lightly.
I laugh, a little embarrassed. “I… sorry. I wasn’t trying to stare. I just—”
“Hey,” she says, waving it off. “You’re fine. Curiosity is allowed.”
“So you’re all…” I make a vague gesture with my hand. “Together.”
“We are,” she confirms easily. “All in. Very intentional. Very tired.”
Freddie grins. “The tired part is mostly the kids.”
Timothy adds quietly, “And Pickle.”
The dog sneezes violently.
I blink. “That’s… actually really cool.”
It surprises me how quickly the words come out. How true they feel.
Ivy’s expression softens. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I mean, good for you. For all of you.”
I hesitate, then admit, “I’m just surprised. Not in a bad way. Just… small town.”
She laughs. “Oh, honey. Coyote Glen pretends it’s traditional, but it’s mostly just nosy. As long as you show up for people, love your kids, and don’t screw over the town…” she shrugs. “They’ll gossip. Then they’ll bring you a casserole.”
“And speaking of gossip…”
The voice comes from behind me, bright and delighted, like it’s been waiting for its cue.
Dottie Langford appears at my elbow with the timing of a predator who’s been circling patiently.
Oversized sunglasses. Perfect lipstick. A smile that says I know things and I’m about to know more.
“There you are, Aurora Harper,” she says warmly, already sliding into the empty space beside me. “I’ve been hoping to run into you again.”
I laugh, because what else do you do when Dottie Langford decides you’re part of the lineup?
“Hi, Dottie.”
Her gaze flicks over the table in a single, efficient sweep—triplets, dog, men, coffee cups, vibes—then settles back on me, sharp and curious.
“Well,” she says. “Your grandmother would’ve loved this.”
“Oh?” I manage.
“She always said you could tell a place by how loud the laughter got before four p.m.,” Dottie continues. “And look at this. Children. Babies. Love.” She pats Ivy’s arm. “Evie believed in living loudly.”
I swallow.
The letter presses against my ribs, trying to be remembered.
I haven’t talked about it out loud yet. Haven’t said the words. But they’re there, folded and unfolded so many times that the creases feel permanent. If you ever find the place you can breathe again…
I wrap my hands around my mug a little tighter.
Dottie watches me. “You’ve really got her eyes,” she says softly. “Same way of looking at things, like you’re taking mental notes.”
I smile, even though my throat feels thick. “She taught me how.”
“I’m sure she did,” Dottie replies. “She had opinions about everything worth loving.”
“That kind of woman leaves a mark,” Ivy says gently. “I didn’t know your grandmother, but I bet she loved this town.”
I nod, because if I try to explain what it feels like to carry someone like that inside you, I might not stop.
Dottie straightens at last, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her skirt. “Now let me get a look at that baby.”
Eventually, the afternoon starts to thin out.
The triplets are bundled back onto their stroller.
Pickle is bribed with a treat and a promise.
Ivy hugs me like we’ve known each other longer than forty-five minutes, which somehow feels correct.
Lani presses a pastry into my hand “for later,” like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she doesn’t anchor me with carbs.
Zane rises from his table the moment I stand. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
Outside is colder than it was earlier, or maybe I just notice it more now that the café’s warmth is behind me. The town square hums softly. Voices, footsteps, a dog barking somewhere down the street. Normal sounds. Reassuring ones.
We walk back toward The Hollow, and my shoulders aren’t around my ears.
I feel steadier.
Zane gives me a sidelong glance, his expression easy but curious. “So, Ivy and the kids, huh? They seem… energetic.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “That’s putting it mildly. But they’re good people. Like a whirlwind of chaos and love all at once. You’ve got to see it to believe it.”
He nods, his lips twitching slightly in amusement. “Sounds like my kind of crowd. Maybe I should introduce myself next time.”
I grin, feeling the tension ease a little. “You should. You need to be more involved in the community now that you live here and own the bar.”
Zane’s eyes soften slightly, that calm about him making me feel less like I’m standing on shaky ground. “Yeah, it’s a lot to take in. But sometimes… the right people make the rest of it feel easier.”
Something pulls my attention sideways.
Two blocks down.
Parked at the curb like it belongs there.
My stomach drops.
The truck.
Same dull paint. Same shape. Same wrongness.
My steps slow without my permission.
“Zane,” I say quietly.
He stops immediately. “What is it?”
“That truck,” I murmur, nodding just enough. “That’s the one that was outside my cabin.”
He follows my gaze, eyes sharpening, posture changing in a way that’s subtle but unmistakable. The easy calm drains out of him, replaced by a coldness.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
He studies it for a long second longer than comfort allows.
“Okay,” he says, too measured. “We’re not going to stare.”
My pulse thuds. “Is that bad?”
“No,” he says. “Just not useful.”
He angles his body slightly closer to mine as we start walking again, his presence suddenly heavier at my side.
“Did you see anyone?”
“No. Just… it was there. Idling too long.”
His jaw tightens.
“All right,” he says. “Thank you for telling me. We’ll deal with this. All of us.”