Chapter 23 Aurora
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Aurora
By early evening, The Hollow feels almost like itself again.
The boarded window catches the last of the sunset, the plywood shining honey gold in the fading light as if we meant to install it for aesthetic reasons instead of because someone tried to intimidate us before breakfast.
Fairy lights are on.
Music hums low through the speakers.
A handful of regulars trickle in, quieter at first, then louder as beer loosens the tension that’s been sitting on all of us since dawn.
Ryder moves through the room as a calm tide. Contained, checking in with everyone without making it obvious he’s checking in with everyone.
Finn has fully recovered from the morning and is back in peak performance mode behind the bar.
“Tonight’s special,” he announces to a couple at the counter. “Defiance Lager. Tastes like resilience. Slightly hoppy.”
“It’s the same IPA as yesterday,” I stage whisper.
“Branding, Aurora,” he says gravely.
I’m perched on a barstool with my laptop open, Founders Day spreadsheets beaming against the dark wood. I keep glancing up, scanning faces, counting bodies. Normal. Laughter. Glasses clinking.
We’re open.
We’re fine.
We’re not scared.
That’s the message.
The door opens.
The cooler air rushes in, carrying dusk and pine and…
Zane.
He steps inside with his typical soft smile. Jeans. Henley. Sleeves rolled just enough to show forearms.
Forearm.
My eyes catch it immediately.
A flash of black and gold under the warm bar lights.
I close my laptop without even thinking.
He spots me watching.
He heads my way. The crowd parts without realizing they’re doing it.
“You miss me?” Finn calls.
“No,” Zane replies.
Finn beams. “He missed me.”
I slide off the stool.
“Hi,” I say, trying for casual and failing.
“Hi.”
The lights hit his arm again as he reaches for a glass of water.
There it is.
Dark panel. Fractures. Gold threaded through.
“That’s new,” I say, stepping closer.
He doesn’t answer immediately.
Finn leans over the bar, acting as a gossip columnist. “Oh yeah, it is. Is that where you’ve been all day?”
Zane shoots him a look. “Yeah, I needed a change.”
I gently catch his wrist before he can roll his sleeve down.
The contact is electric. I push the fabric back.
A couple at the bar glance over, curious. The music swells slightly as the chorus of some indie song hits, but it feels like we’re in our own little pocket of space inside the noise.
“It’s beautiful,” I say quietly.
His jaw shifts. “It’s nothing.”
Before I can respond, before I can ask the question forming at the edge of my tongue, the front door bursts open.
Sloane strides in behind them, leading a parade, five months pregnant and fully unstoppable, with a group of very striking men behind her.
Wait?
Men I recognize…
“Wild Revierie?”
Sloane beams like she personally manifested Coachella into Coyote Glen. “Oh yeah, I didn’t tell you, did I? These are my men…”
My brain short-circuits.
“Your… sorry, men?”
Roman grins immediately. “We prefer ‘multifaceted emotional support system.’”
Creed rolls his eyes. “Ignore him.”
Ezra gives me a small nod and a warm smile.
Sloane rests a hand over her very visible five-month bump and shrugs like she’s introducing coworkers instead of internationally known musicians she also happens to be romantically involved with.
“Roman,” she says, pointing. “Ego, guitar, madness.”
“Charisma,” Roman corrects.
“Creed,” she continues. “Structure, drums, growling in a responsible way.”
Creed inclines his head once. “Accurate.”
“Ezra,” she finishes softly. “Lyrics, brooding, secretly soft.”
Ezra mutters, “I’m not brooding.”
He’s absolutely brooding.
I blink between them.
“All three?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Sloane tilts her head. “Oh, honey. Have you met this town?”
I pause.
That’s true. Ivy is with the tattoo twins and Freddie, right? I guess Coyote Glen embraces the unusual.
Roman studies me curiously. “You look less scandalized than most people.”
I shrug. “I’ve been here long enough to realize monogamy seems more optional than parking permits.”
Creed huffs a quiet laugh.
Sloane bumps her shoulder against mine. “We do what works. Life’s short. Love’s complicated. Why limit yourself if everyone’s honest?”
My heart does a strange, guilty little flip.
Because standing a few feet away are Ryder, Zane, and Finn.
Three very different gravitational pulls.
Three very different kinds of heat.
Three very different pieces of something I’m not ready to name.
And no one here is acting like that’s scandalous.
But first… I grab the edge of the bar.
“Wild Reverie, I can’t believe it. You closed Firelight Festival in Portland three years ago with ‘Run Toward the Sun,’” I blurt at Roman. “It started raining during the bridge, and you refused to leave the stage.”
Roman squints at me. “You were there?”
“Front left. Near the girl with the glitter bra who fainted during the encore.”
Creed points at me. “That was a mess.”
“It was iconic,” I correct.
Ezra’s mouth twitches.
Oh wow. I made Ezra Vaughn almost smile.
I turn to Sloane. “You didn’t warn me.”
“I like surprises,” she says smugly.
“You nearly killed her,” Finn mutters from behind the bar. “Her pulse just spiked. I can feel it from here.”
Ryder steps out of the office at the exact wrong moment to look very large and very controlled while three rock stars stand in his bar.
Roman clocks him immediately.
He leans toward me conspiratorially. “Is he always that intense, or is that just because I’m standing near you?”
My heart betrays me by going all dramatic and fluttery.
“That’s just his face,” I say quickly.
Ryder’s eyes narrow slightly. He knows he’s being discussed, but refuses to participate.
Roman grins wider. “Uh huh.”
Zane shifts subtly closer to my side.
And Finn leans his elbows on the bar like he’s watching tennis.
This is my life now.
Roman studies me. “You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“The ‘I am about to pitch something wildly ambitious’ look.”
Creed snorts. “Oh no.”
“I am not…” I begin.
Well, now that he says that… maybe I am.
I straighten.
“Okay,” I say, fully in event planner mode now. “Founders Day. Community festival. We’re sponsoring it through The Hollow, with a family-friendly setup, local vendors, and an acoustic stage.”
Roman folds his arms, intrigued. “Go on.”
“You’re in town,” I continue. “You want this to go well, right? You like muffins.”
“Love muffins,” he confirms solemnly.
“So,” I say, my breath catching because this is insane and bold and possibly the best idea I’ve had all week, “would you consider playing an acoustic set? A surprise headliner with a low-key setup and plenty of community goodwill. You’d basically become local legends.”
Creed looks at Sloane.
Sloane shrugs. “I vote yes. It’ll be fun.”
Ezra glances around the bar again. At the fairy lights. At the boarded window. At the people pretending not to stare.
He nods once. “I like it.”
Roman spreads his hands dramatically. “Well, if the quiet genius approves.”
Creed sighs because he’s been outvoted by fate itself. “We can do forty-five minutes. Stripped down.”
My heart launches into orbit. “Really?”
Roman grins. “You came to festivals and survived glitter-bra girl. We owe you.”
“I did survive glitter-bra girl,” I say proudly.
Ryder steps closer now. “We’ll handle security.”
Roman glances at him again, amused. “I’m sure you will.”
My heart does the flutter thing again.
Zane leans in just enough for me to hear him over the music starting softly from the stage monitors.
“You’re smiling,” he says.
“I’m allowed,” I reply.
“Didn’t say you weren’t.”
Finn slams a hand on the bar. “Ladies and gentlemen, Coyote Glen just accidentally booked our resident famous rock band.”
I turn in a daze.
“I just booked Wild Reverie for Founders Day,” I whisper.
Finn vaults over the bar and high-fives me so hard my bandaged finger protests.
“Ow—”
“Sorry!” he says, not sorry at all. “You absolute menace. That was legendary. Founder’s Day is going to be so much fun.”