Bonus Scene
Avianna
I'm rearranging the romance section for the third time this week when the nausea hits.
Again.
I grip the edge of the bookshelf and breathe through my nose, willing my stomach to settle.
It's just stress. Or something I ate. Or maybe I'm coming down with that flu that's been going around.
Definitely not what my traitorous brain keeps suggesting every time I feel sick, tired, or catch myself unconsciously pressing my hand to my flat stomach.
Because that would be impossible. Well, not impossible exactly, but highly improbable. It’s probably just my CES acting up and giving me new symptoms. Yeah...that’s gotta be it.
The bell above my door chimes, and I paste on my customer service smile, grateful for the distraction from my spiraling thoughts.
"Welcome to Musings & Morsels, how can I—oh.
Hey guys," My smile turns genuine as I watch Vineyard Groves' most disgustingly happy pack stroll into my shop.
Rowan's laughing at something Theo just said, her head thrown back, completely unself-conscious in a way she never was when she first stumbled into town.
Jaspers got that softened expression he only gets around her, pretending to be annoyed as Gerald—now nearly cat-sized rather than kitten-sized—bats at his shoelaces from the fancy little harness they've got him in for "walks. "
And Wells—Mr. Stick-Up-His-Butt himself—has his hand casually resting at the small of Rowan's back, smiling. Actually smiling. In public.
Ugh. Gross. But also, adorable.
"Avianna!" Rowan spots me and waves, her face lighting up with genuine affection. "How are you feeling? Any better?"
Right. Because I've been claiming to have some mysterious ongoing illness for the past few weeks to explain away the exhaustion, the random nausea, and the way certain smells are making me want to hurl.
Lala's gotten suspicious, asking pointed questions about when I last saw a doctor.
Billie keeps leaving ginger tea on my counter, every time she comes by.
"Much better," I lie smoothly. "Just a lingering bug. You know how it is."
Theo, because he's a veterinarian and therefore thinks he knows about all kinds of biology, gives me that look. The one that says he's cataloguing symptoms and coming to conclusions I really don't want him to reach.
"Have you been to see a doctor about it?" he asks. "Some bugs can linger if they're not treated properly."
"It's fine," I say quickly. "Really. I'm sure it'll pass soon."
Gerald chooses that moment to escape from Jasper's gentle grip and make a beeline for my ankles, purring like a tiny engine. I bend to pet him, grateful for an excuse to avoid Theo's too-knowing gaze.
"He's gotten so big," I observe, scratching behind Gerald's ears. "What are you feeding this monster?"
"The best kitten food money can buy," Wells says dryly. "And treats. So many treats. He's got us all wrapped around his tiny paws."
"As intended," Rowan laughs. "He's very smart. Knows exactly how to get what he wants from each of us."
Gerald purrs harder, clearly pleased with the praise. He's grown into a gorgeous cat—still brown and grey, but with more confidence and personality than any one animal should possess.
"We're heading to the Solstice festival planning meeting," Jasper says, gently scooping Gerald back up. "Want to come? You know your cousin’s gonna volunteer you for something whether you show up or not."
I consider it for approximately two seconds before my stomach does another warning roll. The thought of sitting in a stuffy meeting room with Lala's overpowering perfume and Mayor Tillie's stress-eating chicken flavored crackers makes me want to hurl.
"Rain check," I say. "I should stay and finish inventory."
"Are you sure you're okay?" Rowan asks, and there's genuine concern in her voice. "You've been looking a little tired lately."
Tired. Right. Because nothing says "I'm perfectly healthy” like looking tired and being nauseous for weeks on end.
"I'm fine," I insist. "Just tired. You guys go save the festival from Lala's questionable decoration design."
They leave in a flurry of waves and cat wrangling chaos, but not before Theo gives me one more concerned look that suggests he's definitely putting pieces together that I'd rather he didn't.
Once they're gone, I slump against my counter and press both hands to my stomach. The rational part of my brain knows I should just face the facts and put myself out of this misery. Know for sure instead of driving myself crazy with maybes and what-ifs.
But the irrational part—the part that's been in control for weeks now—is terrified of confirmation.
Because if my suspicion is correct, everything changes.
Everything I've carefully built for myself in this little town, all the independence I've fought so hard to maintain, all the reasons I've given myself for why I don't need a pack or a mate or anyone else. ..
My phone buzzes with a text from Lala: Festival meeting in 10 minutes. You better show up or I'm coming to drag you out of that bookstore myself.
Another buzz, this one from Rowan: Seriously, girl. If you need anything, I’m right here.
And another from Billie: Coffee later? You seem like you could use some girl time.
I stare at the messages from my friends—my family in this ridiculous little town —and feel tears prick at my eyes. Which is another symptom I've been ignoring, this new thing where I cry at absolutely everything.
They care about me. They've noticed I'm struggling. And I've been lying to them for weeks because I'm too scared to face the possibility that my entire life might be about to change.
We will return to Vineyard Groves in December 2025 ??