Stuck with my Mechanic Daddies

A SPICY SMALL TOWN REVERSE HAREM ROMANCE

MEN OF MEDFORD

LACEY DAY

The following is a why choose romance with spicy situations. It is intended for mature readers.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously.

Copyright © 2025 by Lacey Day

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

CHAPTER ONE

Aurora

The universe has a cruel sense of humor.

I had been in Medford for exactly thirteen minutes before my Jaguar F-Type sputtered, choked, and died in the middle of the one-stoplight town.

Gripping the steering wheel, I exhaled slowly. “Of course.”

It wasn’t enough that I’d been forced to take time off from my job—the job I had worked my ass off for—to deal with an inheritance I never asked for. No, the universe had to up the stakes by stranding me in the exact place I’d never thought I’d find myself.

I glanced at the dashboard, half expecting it to magically come back to life if I just stared hard enough.

No such luck.

“Great.”

A quick check of my phone confirmed what I already suspected—no service. Because, of course, this place was still stuck in the dark ages.

A tap on my window made me jump.

“Car trouble?”

I turned, and my frustration deepened at the sight of not one, but three men standing outside my car.

Brothers. I could tell instantly.

The same strong jawline, the same broad shoulders, the same air of confidence that suggested they could fix just about anything and would probably be insufferable while doing it.

Matching shirts with “Grady’s Auto Repairs” stitched over the pocket made it pretty clear where that confidence came from.

The one closest to me—tall, dark-haired, and annoyingly handsome—tilted his head and smirked. “Need a hand?”

I rolled down the window just enough to be heard but not enough to let in whatever small-town charm they were trying to sell.

“I’m fine,” I said. “It’s probably just overheated.”

The smirk deepened. “That right?”

The one to his left—slightly taller, blue-eyed, and clearly the calmest of the three—crossed his arms. “You should pop the hood. We can take a look.”

I hesitated.

I had no reason to trust them, but my choices were limited, and standing here all day waiting for a tow truck that may or may not exist in this town wasn’t exactly appealing.

With a sigh, I popped the hood and climbed out of the car.

“Thanks,” I said begrudgingly.

“Don’t sound too excited,” the third one—younger, blond, and cocky as hell—murmured, his green eyes glinting with amusement.

The first brother, Smirking Mechanic, chuckled and leaned under the hood.

“You're new in town,” the calm one observed.

I crossed my arms. “Just passing through.”

“Huh.” He exchanged a look with the others. “Most people don’t just pass through Medford.”

“I’m not most people,” I said.

You could practically hear the curiosity thickening in the air.

Smirking Mechanic, who I was starting to suspect was the ringleader, glanced up. “So, what brings you here?”

I hesitated. It wasn’t exactly a secret, but saying it out loud still felt strange.

“My uncle left me his bookstore. I’m here to sort it out.”

At that, all three men stilled.

The calm one, whose gaze had been assessing but not unkind, nodded slowly. “You're Bennett’s niece.”

I frowned. “You knew him?”

“Knew him?” The younger one let out a sharp laugh. “Everyone knew him. He was⁠—”

“A character,” the calm one interjected, shooting his brother a look.

I studied them. They weren’t looking at me with pity, exactly, but there was something else there. Something unspoken.

“My uncle and I weren’t close,” I admitted. “I barely knew him.”

Smirking Mechanic wiped his hands on a rag and straightened.

“That's a shame,” he said. “He was a good man.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “So I hear.”

I wasn’t sure what else to say.

My uncle had always been a mystery. Just a name attached to occasional birthday cards and once, a signed copy of some obscure novel I’d never gotten time to read. Now, he was gone, and I was standing in the town he’d called home, trying to figure out what the hell to do next.

“Well,” Smirking Mechanic said, shutting the hood with a sigh, “it’s not a quick fix. Looks like something in the electrical system shorted out. And with a car like this…”

He trailed off, exchanging a glance with the others.

I frowned. “With a car like this, what?”

“Parts might take a while,” the calm one admitted. “And the nearest shop that can handle something foreign is two towns over.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Of course.

“How long is ‘a while’?”

The younger one smirked. “Couple days. Maybe a week.”

I groaned. “Perfect.”

Smirking Mechanic leaned against the side of my car, looking far too amused. “Lucky for you, Medford isn’t the worst place to be stranded.”

I gave him a flat look. “I'll be the judge of that.”

He let out a low chuckle, exchanging a glance with his brothers.

“Fair enough.” He extended a grease-streaked hand. “Ethan Grady.”

I eyed his hand warily before shaking it. His smirk widened.

The calm one stepped forward next.

“Owen.”

His handshake was firmer, steadier, and came with a look that felt just a little too perceptive.

“And I’m Mason,” the younger one said, his grin downright smug. “The best-looking one, obviously.”

I snorted. “Debatable. Aurora.”

Ethan laughed while Owen shook his head in exasperation. Mason just looked pleased with himself.

“So, Aurora,” Ethan said, leaning back against my car again like he had all the time in the world, “what's the plan?”

I exhaled.

“The plan was to sort out my uncle’s affairs and get back to my life.” I gestured to my very dead car. “Clearly, that's not happening anytime soon.”

Owen nodded. “The Medford Inn’s just down the street. Nancy Hayes runs it. She'll get you sorted.”

“Great,” I muttered.

I could already picture it: doilies, floral wallpaper, and a woman who probably knew more about my uncle than I did.

“Need a ride?” Ethan offered.

I hesitated again. Accepting their help once was bad enough. Twice? That felt like some kind of slippery slope.

Before I could decide, Mason grinned. “You could always walk. It’s only, what, a mile?”

I scowled. “Fine. Ride it is.”

Ethan pushed off the car with a satisfied look. “Welcome to Medford, Aurora.”

The bookstore was worse than I had expected.

I stood on the sidewalk where the Grady brothers left me, staring up at the faded sign that read Page Turners in peeling gold letters. The whole building looked tired, like it had been waiting too long for someone to care about it.

I didn’t want to be that someone.

The key was warm in my palm, even though the February air had a sharp bite to it. I twirled it between my fingers, wondering whether I made a mistake telling them to drop me off here instead of the inn.

I should have left this mess for tomorrow but I knew myself.

If I put it off now, I’d keep putting it off. And the sooner I figured out what to do with this place, the sooner I could go back to my life.

With a sigh, I shoved the key into the lock and pushed open the door.

The scent of dust and old paper rolled over me like a wave.

The air inside was heavy, like time had been on pause, waiting for someone to press play again. Shafts of afternoon light cut through the dirty windows, casting long shadows over the cluttered space.

Bookshelves leaned at odd angles, some packed so tightly with books that the wood bowed under the weight, others nearly empty. Stacks of paperbacks sat on the floor in precarious piles, and the old cash register on the counter was covered in a fine layer of dust.

It looked exactly like the kind of place people romanticized. The kind of indie bookstore where a person could get lost for hours.

I didn’t have that luxury.

I took a slow step forward, my boots scuffing against the hardwood.

This place was going to take work. A lot of work.

And even then, I didn’t know if it would be enough to make it worth selling.

I rubbed my temples. This wasn’t supposed to be my problem.

Running my fingers along the edge of the counter, I felt the rough wood beneath my touch. A small notebook sat open beside the register, its pages filled with tight, slanted handwriting.

My uncle’s?

I hesitated before flipping through it. Inventory lists. Notes. A reminder to fix the back door.

As I turned another page, something slipped free and fluttered onto the counter. A sheet of yellowed paper, edges slightly crumpled, like it had been handled more than once.

I frowned and picked it up. The handwriting was uneven, the letters wobbly, like they had been written by a much younger hand.

A strange familiarity tugged at me, and when I saw the title scrawled across the top, my breath caught.

The Adventures of Rosie and the Bookshop Dragon.

My fingers tightened around the paper. I knew this story.

Because I had written it.

I stared at the words, my pulse suddenly loud in my ears.

I must have been nine, maybe ten, the last summer I spent in Medford. I remembered sitting cross-legged on the floor of this very bookstore, a composition notebook in my lap, dreaming up a story about a brave girl named Rosie who found a dragon hidden in her uncle’s basement.

I had thought no one had noticed. No one had cared.

But somehow… my uncle had kept this.

A lump rose in my throat as my eyes scanned the familiar, messy scrawl. I remembered how proud I had been of that story, how I had let myself dream—just for a little while—of being a writer.

Before reality set in. Before I convinced myself that dreams like that were foolish.

And yet, all these years later, it was still here.

I exhaled slowly and pressed the page against my chest. Maybe my uncle and I hadn't been as distant as I had thought.

Maybe he had been paying attention, even when I hadn't realized it.

I folded the paper carefully, tucking it back into the book before I could overthink it. My head was a mess of emotions I didn’t have the energy to sort through right now.

The bookstore was still quiet around me, heavy with dust and the weight of time. A part of me wanted to stay, to keep looking, to see what else my uncle had left behind.

But exhaustion was creeping in, and after the absolute disaster of my arrival, I needed a break.

I grabbed my bag, hauled my suitcase along, and locked up before heading for my car… only to be reminded, once again, that it wasn’t there, and I wasn’t going anywhere.

I sighed. Right.

The Medford Inn was only a few blocks away, so I walked. The winter air was crisp, biting at my cheeks as I made my way down Maple Avenue.

Medford was exactly the kind of town that belonged on the front of a postcard—quaint, charming, the kind of place where people still waved at strangers. More than a few glanced my way as I passed, curiosity flickering in their expressions.

I kept my head down and walked on.

By the time I reached the inn, my fingers were numb, and my patience was thinner than I would have liked.

The Medford Inn was just as picturesque as the rest of the town, if a little worn around the edges. A historic two-story building with white siding, dark green shutters, and a wraparound porch lined with rocking chairs. A hand-painted wooden sign swung gently in the breeze, the words The Medford Inn – Est. 1902 carved into the wood.

I pushed through the front door and warmth wrapped around me instantly, carrying the scent of something sweet. Vanilla, maybe cinnamon.

The front desk was empty, but the lobby was inviting. A fire crackled in a stone hearth, and the furniture was antique and well loved, the kind of pieces that had stories to tell.

Before I could call out, a voice drifted in from the back.

“Well, now, you must be Aurora Bennett.”

I turned as a woman stepped out from a side room, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She looked to be in her late fifties, with silver-streaked auburn hair pulled into a loose bun and kind brown eyes that studied me with quiet interest. She was dressed in a soft sweater and jeans, but there was something about the way she held herself that told me she was the kind of person who saw everything without making a fuss about it.

“How did you know that?” I said, setting my bag on the counter.

She smiled. “Small town. We don’t get many strangers.”

I resisted the urge to sigh. Of course they don’t.

“Plus, Owen Grady called ahead and said you might need a room.”

My eyes popped wide. He did?

“I’m Nancy Hayes. Welcome to Medford.” She extended a hand, and after a brief hesitation, I shook it. Her grip was warm, firm. “You must be tired after your trip. Your room’s all ready for you.”

I nodded, suddenly aware of how much I wanted a hot shower and a real bed. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Nancy studied me for a beat, like she was debating whether to say something else. Then she tilted her head toward the side room.

“You hungry?” she asked. “I just made some apple cobbler. Still warm.”

I blinked. That was… not what I had expected.

“I’m fine,” I said automatically.

She lifted an eyebrow, unimpressed. “That wasn’t the question.”

A small huff of laughter escaped me. I didn’t even like sweets that much, but the idea of sitting in a quiet inn with something warm and homemade was more appealing than I wanted to admit.

I hesitated—just for a second—before shrugging. “Sure. Why not?”

Nancy’s smile deepened, like she had known I’d say yes all along.

“Good,” she said, already turning toward the kitchen. “Come on, then. You can tell me what you think of Medford so far.”

I followed her, a little wary, a little intrigued.

Because so far? Medford was nothing like I had expected.

CHAPTER TWO

Ethan

Someone could have died today.

The thought pounded through my skull as I yanked off my work gloves and slammed them onto the counter. The force rattled the row of tools in front of me, but I didn’t care.

“Owen, you torqued the wheels on the F-150 yesterday, right?”

Across the garage, Owen looked up from where he was wiping grease off his hands. His brow furrowed. “Yeah. Why?”

I threw the lug nuts onto the metal tray beside me. They rattled ominously. “Because they were loose.”

Silence.

Mason, sitting on the workbench with his arms crossed, whistled low. “Shit.”

“Shit,” I repeated, my voice hard. “These almost came off while the guy was driving. If he hadn't noticed the shake in time…”

I cut myself off, my jaw tightening. No need to finish that sentence.

We all knew how bad it could have been.

Owen pushed off the wall, his usual easygoing demeanor gone. “I torqued them. I know I did.”

“Then explain why they were loose.”

His eyes flashed. “You think I didn’t do my job?”

I held his gaze.

I wanted to be mad at him. I should have been.

This wasn’t some minor screw-up. This was life and death.

But I knew my brother. I knew how careful he was, how methodical. He wouldn’t have missed something like this. Not unless…

“You were distracted.”

Mason snorted. “No shit.”

Owen glared at both of us. “I wasn’t distracted.”

I crossed my arms. “Then what were you?”

Grady’s Auto Repairs wasn’t just some backroad repair joint. It was one of the best damn auto shops in Southern Oregon—the place people brought their trucks, their classics, their workhorses. Farmers, loggers, commuters, even the town mayor. We kept Medford moving. And we did it right.

Things like this couldn’t happen.

I grabbed a wrench and tightened a bolt with more force than necessary, my frustration bleeding into every movement.

It wasn’t just about the mistake. It was about what it meant.

We had spent years building this business, earning the town’s trust. One screw-up like this—one loose set of lug nuts—and people would start to doubt.

They’d start to wonder if we’d lost our edge. And I’d be damned if I let that happen.

Owen knew it, too.

He was pacing now, rubbing the back of his neck, his jaw tight. He was as pissed as I was, just quieter about it.

Mason, on the other hand, just stretched and hopped off the workbench like we hadn't just had a near disaster.

“We’re making this a bigger deal than it is.”

I rounded on him. “A man almost lost a wheel going sixty on the highway.”

“Almost.” He shrugged. “No harm, no foul.”

I resisted the urge to throw my wrench at him. “That's not the damn point, Mason.”

He held up his hands. “Relax, big brother. I’m not saying we shouldn’t take it seriously, but maybe we’re looking at this the wrong way.”

Owen stopped pacing. “What are you getting at?”

Mason leaned against the tool chest, looking completely unbothered. “You think one of us made a mistake. But what if we didn’t?”

I exchanged a look with Owen, who frowned.

“What are you saying?” he pressed.

Mason tilted his head toward the tray of lug nuts I had tossed down. “I’m saying, what if someone else loosened them?”

Silence.

I stared at him, waiting for him to crack a grin, to throw out some half-assed joke about saboteurs in Medford. But he didn’t.

And that was when my stomach turned to stone.

Owen shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. Who the hell would⁠—”

“I don’t know.” Mason shrugged. “But I know you, and I know Ethan, and I know me. And none of us are careless enough to screw up something this major.”

I dragged a hand down my face, my pulse hammering against my ribs.

It was ridiculous. It had to be.

But was it?

The sabotage at the shop hadn't been constant, hadn't been obvious. A part here, a misplaced tool there, a delay in a shipment that should’ve been routine.

Minor things. Annoying, but nothing outright dangerous.

Until now.

I glanced at Owen. He was staring down at the tray of lug nuts like they held the answer to a question none of us wanted to ask.

Then his jaw tightened. “We need to check every car we worked on this week.”

I nodded, already moving toward the logbook. “Agreed. If someone’s messing with us, we need to catch it before someone actually gets hurt.”

Mason exhaled, pushing off the tool chest. “Guess I'll put on my detective hat.”

I glared at him. “This isn’t funny.”

His easy grin faded. “I know. But you're pissed, Owen’s brooding, and someone has to keep this from turning into a full-blown crisis.”

I didn’t argue, mostly because he wasn’t wrong.

Owen rubbed the back of his neck again. “So what now?”

I tightened my grip on the logbook. “Now? We check every damn car. And we keep our eyes open.”

Because if someone was screwing with Grady’s Auto, they had made a big mistake.

And I was going to find out who the hell it was.

Mason let out a low whistle and flopped back onto the workbench. “Damn, Ethan. Your blood pressure must be through the roof.”

I shot him a glare. “You think this is funny?”

“Nope,” Mason said easily. “But I do think you're about to give yourself a stroke.” He gestured toward my hands. “Pretty sure you bent that wrench.”

I looked down. Sure enough, my grip was tight enough to leave my knuckles white, and the wrench’s handle was slightly warped from the pressure.

Great.

I exhaled sharply, forcing my fingers to unclench.

Owen, ever the quiet one, leaned against the tool chest with his arms crossed, watching me with that unreadable expression of his. Not judgmental, not even concerned.

Just patient. Which was worse, honestly.

“I get why you're pissed,” Owen said, his voice steady. “Hell, I am pissed. But losing it isn’t going to fix anything.”

I clenched my jaw. He wasn’t wrong.

Didn’t mean I wanted to hear it.

Mason smirked. “Yeah, Ethan. Let’s be real, if someone is messing with us, you storming around looking like you're about to punch a hole through the wall isn’t gonna help.”

I rolled my shoulders, trying to shake off the tension. “And what do you suggest, oh wise one?”

Mason tapped his chin, pretending to think. “Hmm. Step one: don’t have an aneurysm. Step two: accept that we’re gonna figure this out. Step three: eat something, ‘cause I know for a fact you haven’t had shit since breakfast, and you're even more of an asshole when you're hungry.”

Owen nodded. “He's not wrong.”

I shot him a dry look. “Whose side are you on?”

“Not a side thing,” Owen said simply. “It’s just a fact.”

Mason grinned. “Damn right it is.”

I sighed, dragging a hand down my face. The anger hadn't fully settled, but the sharp edge of it had dulled under the weight of my brothers’ relentless practicality.

They weren’t wrong. I did need to calm down.

Mason leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, Ethan, we all know this isn’t just about some loose lug nuts.”

I didn’t respond, but that didn’t stop him.

“This is about trust,” he continued. “About the shop. About our grandfather.”

A muscle ticked in my jaw.

Mason rarely brought up our grandfather, but when he did, it was usually because he knew I needed to hear it.

“This business is our legacy,” Mason said, more serious than usual. “We’ve worked too damn hard for it to get screwed up now. That's why we’ve been ignoring that asshole real estate guy. Hank.”

“Lawson,” I filled in for him.

“Right. That's why we’ve been ignoring his requests to buy this place, to add it to his portfolio so he can change Medford or whatever it is he wants to do. Because this is ours.”

Owen nodded. “Which is why we will fix it.”

That landed in a way I wasn’t expecting.

For so long, I had taken on the weight of the business, of keeping everything together.

It wasn’t that I didn’t trust my brothers. I did. But responsibility had been burned into me since the day our grandad died.

I exhaled through my nose. “Yeah. Okay.”

Mason blinked. “Wait, that's it? No arguing? No grumbling?”

I shot him a look. “Don’t push it.”

He smirked. “Too late.”

Owen shook his head. “All right, if the crisis is over, we still have cars to check.” He gestured to the logbook I’d set down. “I'll start cross-checking service records. Mason, you check inventory, see if anything else is off.”

“And you?” Mason asked, arching a brow at me.

I grabbed a rag and wiped my hands before picking up my wrench again. “I have a Jag to look at.”

Mason let out a snort. “Oh, now he's eager to get back to work.”

Owen shook his head, already flipping open the logbook. “It’s not just work. He's got an expensive excuse to keep thinking about her.”

I shot him a look again, but he didn’t even glance up, just smoothed a hand down the page and started cross-checking the most recent service entries.

Mason smirked. “The man’s got a point. You’ve been hovering over that car like it’s a goddamn miracle on four wheels.”

“It is a goddamn miracle on four wheels.” I tossed my rag onto the tool chest and rolled my shoulders. “Not my fault you two don’t appreciate fine engineering.”

Mason leaned back against the counter, arms crossed.

“Oh, we appreciate fine engineering.” His smirk widened. “We just happen to think Aurora's the real reason you can’t keep your hands off that car.”

I exhaled hard through my nose. “You two done?”

Mason grinned, but before he could open his mouth, Owen spoke. “For now.”

I ignored them both and turned back to the Jaguar. At least this I could fix.

The sleek engine components gleamed under the garage lights, and I ran a hand over the polished surface, mentally cataloging the repairs still needed. The shorted wiring would take the longest.

Ordering parts, rewiring the system, testing it all to make sure nothing else was compromised. It wouldn’t be quick, and it definitely wouldn’t be cheap.

Aurora wasn’t going to be happy. But then again, she hadn't seemed all that happy to be in Medford to begin with.

I tightened a bolt a little harder than necessary.

She was a puzzle. A woman who looked at this town like she couldn’t decide whether to tolerate it or burn it to the ground.

I’d seen plenty of outsiders pass through, but she wasn’t like the usual weekenders looking for some quaint, small-town escape.

No, she was stuck here.

And for some reason, I didn’t hate that.

Mason clapped a hand on my shoulder, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“All right, big brother, you romance that engine for a little longer. Me? I’ve got inventory to check. Gotta make sure we’re not missing anything else. Other than your dignity.”

I rolled my eyes as he walked off, whistling under his breath.

Owen lingered, flipping the page in the logbook. “You want me to break the news to her about the car?”

I snorted. “You volunteering?”

He gave me a flat look. “Not a chance.”

“Then I'll handle it.”

He nodded, closed the book, and tapped the cover. “Good. Just try not to enjoy it too much.”

I smirked, turning back to the car.

No promises.

CHAPTER THREE

Aurora

The lawyer’s office smelled like old books and coffee gone cold.

I sat stiffly in a leather chair across from Thomas Calloway, a man who looked exactly like every small-town attorney I’d ever seen in movies. Gray hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and a suit that had probably never been in fashion.

He cleared his throat, adjusting the paperwork on his desk. “Miss Bennett, I know you were hoping for a quick sale, but I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”

Of course it wasn’t.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “What do you mean?”

Calloway sighed like he was bracing for my reaction. “For one, the property transfer isn’t finalized. Your uncle never updated certain documents, which means there’s a backlog of legal work before the store is officially yours to sell.”

My stomach tightened. “How long are we talking?”

“A few weeks, minimum.”

I exhaled slowly. “Right. And that's just one issue, I’m guessing.”

Calloway nodded. “There’s also the matter of Page Turners itself. It’s in significant disrepair, and there are outstanding debts. If you sell as is, you'll barely break even.”

I swallowed a curse. Of course, my uncle had left me a mess.

Running a hand through my hair, I shifted in my seat. “What if I just walk away? Let the town take it or something?”

Calloway gave me a patient but pointed look. “The bookstore is in your name. If you abandon it, the debts could follow you.”

Perfect. Just perfect.

I leaned back, staring at the ceiling, willing the universe to cut me a damn break.

“Miss Bennett,” Calloway said after a moment, “I understand this isn’t what you expected. But Page Turners meant a lot to your uncle. If you take the time to fix it up, you might find it’s worth more than just money.”

I didn’t need a sentimental sales pitch. I needed an exit strategy.

I pressed my lips together, resisting the urge to argue. I hadn't come here for a heartfelt speech about the value of dusty bookshelves and nostalgia. I had come here to untangle myself from this mess as quickly as possible.

But it turned out, I was stuck.

At least for now.

I exhaled sharply and sat up. “Fine. Let’s say I don’t sell right away. What's my best option?”

Calloway leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “Your uncle’s debts aren’t insurmountable. With some work, the store could be profitable again. If you invest a little time⁠—”

I held up a hand. “Stop right there. I don’t plan on staying in Medford long term.”

He gave me a measured look. “Long enough to fix this, though?”

I rubbed my temple. I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have had to.

But what choice did I have? Let the debts follow me back to the city? Watch this place crumble because my uncle hadn't been responsible enough?

Frustration coiled tight in my chest. I didn’t like feeling trapped.

I pushed to my feet. “Send me whatever paperwork I need to look over.”

Calloway nodded. “Of course.”

I didn’t say goodbye, just turned and strode out of the office, my boots clicking sharply against the hardwood. The moment I stepped outside, the cool air hit me, but it didn’t clear my head the way I needed it to.

I dug my keys out of my bag before remembering… Right. No car.

Because, of course, I was stranded.

A gust of wind whipped through the street, sending a shiver down my spine. I tightened my coat around me, my fingers stiff from the cold and frustration. The thought of walking all the way back to the bookstore in these boots made my patience wear even thinner.

I barely had time to process my next move when a deep voice cut through the quiet.

“Need a ride?”

I turned toward the sound, already knowing who it was.

Ethan Grady leaned against his truck, arms crossed, expression unreadable. He looked like he’d been there for a while, watching.

Of course.

Because why wouldn’t my day get more complicated?

I exhaled sharply. “Have you been sent to babysit me or something?”

Ethan’s mouth twitched, something between amusement and irritation.

“No one sent me. I was at the hardware store.” He nodded toward the shop across the street, then arched a brow. “But if you’d rather walk back in those shoes, be my guest.”

I glanced down at my heeled boots. They were not made for Medford’s uneven sidewalks, let alone the walk back to Page Turners.

My pride told me to refuse, but my feet begged me to be practical.

With a resigned sigh, I strode toward the truck. “Thanks.”

He opened the passenger door, and I climbed in, the truck warmer than I expected.

Ethan slid into the driver’s seat, turning the key. The old engine rumbled to life, filling the cab with the scent of leather, coffee, and something distinctly him. Clean, a little rugged, like cedar and motor oil.

We drove in silence for a while, the quiet surprisingly comfortable. Medford passed by in a blur of small-town charm, and for a brief moment, I let myself relax.

Then Ethan glanced over. “You okay?”

I let out a dry laugh. “Not even a little.”

He nodded, as if he’d expected that. “Figured.”

I sighed, leaning my head back against the seat. “I was just at a lawyer’s office learning that my uncle left me a financial disaster. I can’t sell the store yet, I can’t just walk away, and if I don’t figure something out, I might lose my job, too.”

Ethan didn’t speak right away. He just kept driving, hands steady on the wheel.

Finally, he said, “Sounds like you’ve got some decisions to make.”

I scoffed. “Understatement of the century.”

His gaze flicked toward me again. “So, what's your plan?”

That was the problem. I didn’t have one.

I turned toward the window, watching Medford roll by. “I have no idea.”

Ethan pulled up in front of Page Turners, shifting the truck into park. I was already reaching for the door handle when he cleared his throat.

“There’s something else,” he said.

I stilled, my fingers curling around the strap of my bag.

“Go on. Ruin my day completely.”

Ethan didn’t take the bait. He just exhaled, running a hand over his jaw like he was debating how to say whatever bad news was coming next.

That alone told me it was going to be bad.

I turned toward him fully. “Just say it.”

He met my gaze. “Your Jaguar? It’s gonna be expensive.”

I blinked. “Define expensive.”

He shifted, resting an arm on the steering wheel. “The parts aren’t easy to come by, and the engine’s got more issues than just the starter. You're looking at a couple grand at least, maybe more depending on labor and what else we find.”

The exhaustion hit me all at once, like a weight pressing down on my chest.

A couple grand. On top of everything else.

On top of the bookstore’s debts, the legal mess, and the fact that my career was hanging by a thread.

I pressed my fingers to my temple, willing away the headache building behind my eyes. “So what you're saying is, I’m stranded.”

Ethan’s brows pulled together. “You’ve got options.”

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah? Enlighten me.”

He shrugged. “You could fix the Jag. You could borrow a car. You could hitch a ride when you need one. Or…” He hesitated, then gave me a measured look. “You could accept that you might be here longer than you planned and start dealing with it.”

Something sharp and defensive curled in my stomach.

“I am dealing with it,” I snapped.

Ethan didn’t flinch. “Are you?”

I gritted my teeth, gripping the strap of my bag so tightly my knuckles ached. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“No, you didn’t,” he agreed. “But it’s yours now.”

I turned away, staring out the windshield, frustration simmering beneath my skin. The worst part was, I knew he was right.

But I was too damn tired to deal with any of it right now.

I shoved open the door and climbed out, slamming it behind me.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said over my shoulder, already heading for the bookstore.

Ethan didn’t stop me. He just waited a beat before saying, “You know where to find me.”

I didn’t look back.

The bookstore was just as I had left it—dusty, dimly lit, and smelling faintly of old paper and something vaguely floral. Probably some ancient potpourri my uncle had never bothered to throw out.

I dropped my bag onto the front counter and took a slow look around. The place could have been charming if it weren’t one gust of wind away from total collapse.

I was trying to figure out where to even start when the bell over the door jingled.

I turned, expecting another nosy local, but the woman who stepped inside wasn’t just any local.

She was formidable. Mid-sixties, pressed slacks and a cardigan buttoned up just so, with the kind of posture that suggested she took absolutely no shit from anyone.

Her sharp blue eyes swept over me like she was assessing every single one of my life choices, and judging all of them.

“Miss Bennett,” she said, her voice crisp. “I thought I might find you here.”

I blinked. “Uh, and you are?”

Her lips pressed together like she was disappointed I didn’t already know. “Beatrice Callahan. I worked for your uncle.”

Right. Calloway had mentioned something about an employee.

“You were his assistant?” I asked.

Her eyes narrowed. “I managed the store.”

Well, okay then.

I gestured vaguely around us. “So you know what kind of mess he left behind.”

Beatrice stiffened. “Your uncle cared deeply about this store.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “That's nice, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s falling apart and drowning in debt.”

She exhaled sharply, her gaze flicking to the bookshelves like she couldn’t believe I’d talk about her store like that.

I leaned against the counter. “Look, Beatrice. I’m just trying to figure out what exactly I’m dealing with here. My uncle never really talked to me, so I don’t know much about him or this place.”

Beatrice’s expression didn’t soften.

I tried again. “Did he ever mention anything about the finances? Maybe why the debts piled up?”

Her jaw tightened. “Your uncle kept certain things private.”

Which was a very polite way of saying, I’m not telling you anything.

I crossed my arms. “Right. And you're not interested in helping me now, either?”

She leveled me with a look. “You’ve made it clear you don’t plan to stay, Miss Bennett. So forgive me if I don’t feel inclined to hand over your uncle’s secrets to someone who sees this place as nothing more than a burden.”

My stomach twisted because she wasn’t wrong. But it still stung.

Beatrice adjusted her cardigan. “I came by to collect a few personal belongings. I won’t trouble you again.”

And just like that, she turned and walked toward the back office, her heels clicking against the wooden floor.

I stared after her, an uncomfortable mix of guilt and frustration settling in my chest.

It was obvious no one in this town trusted me. And I was starting to realize I didn’t trust them, either.

CHAPTER FOUR

Mason

Aurora Bennett looked like she wanted to set the whole damn town on fire.

It was the first thing I noticed when I stepped into The Brewed Bean Café. She sat in a booth by the window, stabbing at a plate of fries like they’d personally wronged her.

I grinned.

Poor thing. Medford must have been really doing a number on her.

Might as well make things interesting.

I slid into the seat across from her without hesitation. “You know, if you stab them hard enough, they might fight back.”

Aurora’s head snapped up, green eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

I plucked a fry off her plate and popped it into my mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Not bad. Could use more salt.”

She blinked, clearly trying to process the audacity of me stealing her food. “Did I invite you to sit here?”

“Nope.” I stole another fry. “Didn’t think you’d mind, though. You looked lonely.”

Her lips parted like she was about to unleash hell on me, but instead, she sighed and tossed a fry back onto her plate. “Of course. Another Grady.”

I pressed a hand to my chest, feigning deep offense. “You say that like it's a bad thing.”

She arched a brow. “Still deciding.”

Damn, she was fun.

Before I could come up with another quip, Samantha, the waitress, stopped by, giving me a knowing look.

“Mason, she doesn’t look like she wants company.”

“Nonsense, Samantha. We’re bonding.”

Aurora snorted. “Is that what this is?”

“Absolutely.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. “So tell me, what's got you stabbing innocent potatoes today?”

She exhaled, eyes flicking toward the window. “Nothing. Just this town.”

“Ah.” I nodded sagely. “Medford getting under your skin already?”

“That obvious?”

“You look five seconds away from committing a crime.”

“Give it time.”

I chuckled, then gestured for Samantha to bring me a coffee. “So, what's the verdict? You staying or running for the hills?”

Aurora hesitated, her fingers tapping against the tabletop. “I don’t know yet.”

Her voice lacked the usual sharp, guarded edge. She just sounded tired.

And that, more than anything, made me stop fooling around.

I leaned back, studying her. “It’s not all bad, you know.”

She met my gaze, skeptical. “You're just saying that because you grew up here.”

“Well, yeah. But also because it’s true.” I flashed her a grin. “Besides, now you’ve met me. Which, let’s be honest, is a huge point in Medford’s favor.”

Aurora rolled her eyes, but there was the smallest twitch at the corner of her lips.

There it was.

That was the thing about me—people didn’t stay mad when I was around.

I didn’t let them. Because life was too short to sit around brooding, and from the looks of it, Aurora had been brooding for a long time.

“You really think you're that charming, huh?” she asked, tilting her head.

I winked. “I don’t think. I know.”

She shook her head and grabbed another fry. “Unbelievable.”

But she wasn’t stabbing them anymore.

Progress.

Aurora was still looking at me like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to roll her eyes or throw her coffee in my face.

I flashed her my most winning grin. “Tell you what, city girl, how about I buy you a drink? You can spend the whole time insulting me if you want. I won’t even complain.”

She snorted. “Tempting, but I don’t do pity drinks.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’d never ask for your pity. Just your company.” I rested my chin on my hand, watching her with amusement. “Besides, you look like you could use a drink.”

She exhaled, drumming her fingers against the table. She wanted to say no. I could see it in the way her jaw tightened, in the way she weighed the pros and cons like she was debating a major life decision.

Finally, she let out a resigned sigh. “Fine. One drink.”

I grinned. “That's the spirit.”

She pointed a fry at me. “But if you get on my nerves, I’m leaving.”

I held up my hands. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Lucky’s Bar was packed for a Thursday night, but we managed to find a booth near the back.

Aurora had that wary look again, like she wasn’t sure what she was doing here, but I could already tell she was more relaxed than she’d been at the diner.

“Pick your poison,” I said, sliding the drink menu toward her.

She glanced at it briefly before handing it back. “Whiskey. Neat.”

I raised a brow. “Damn. No-nonsense. I like it.”

She smirked. “Did you think I was going to order a cosmo?”

“I don’t know, Aurora,” I teased, drawing out her name. “You seem like the kind of woman who is full of surprises.”

She shook her head, but she didn’t deny it.

When the drinks arrived, we settled into easy conversation. Or as easy as it got when she was still side eyeing me like I was some kind of puzzle she hadn't decided if she wanted to solve.

She took a sip of her whiskey, her gaze thoughtful. “So tell me, Mason, do you flirt with everyone, or am I just special?”

I grinned. “Oh, you're special, babe.”

She huffed a laugh, but I caught the flicker of something behind her eyes, something almost pleased.

Interesting.

She leaned back, swirling the amber liquid in her glass. “This is your big sales pitch for Medford? Liquor and bad pickup lines?”

I shrugged. “It's a start.”

Aurora sighed, looking down at her drink. For a moment, I thought she was about to tell me to cut the act, that she wasn’t here to be entertained.

But instead, she surprised me.

“You ever feel like you're supposed to want something, but deep down, you don’t?”

I tilted my head, caught off guard. “That's vague.”

She exhaled sharply. “Forget it.”

“No, no, hold on.” I sat up, watching her. “You mean, like, expectations? Other people's, or yours?”

She hesitated. “Both, I guess.”

I nodded, letting that settle between us. “Yeah. I get that.”

She studied me like she wasn’t sure whether to believe me.

Then she took another sip, her eyes flicking toward the worn wooden bar and then to the scuffed floors.

“I used to write,” she said suddenly. “When I was younger.”

I raised a brow. “Yeah?”

She nodded, but there was a tightness to her posture now, like she already regretted saying anything. I waited, giving her space.

She exhaled, setting her glass down. “It doesn’t matter.”

Something about the way she said it made me think it did matter—more than she was willing to admit.

I didn’t push, though. Instead, I offered an easy grin and raised my glass.

“To doing what actually makes us happy, then. Whenever we figure out what the hell that is.”

Aurora watched me for a moment, then slowly clinked her glass against mine.

She didn’t say anything, but for the first time since she’d gotten here, she didn’t look like she was already planning her escape.

I’d take that as a win.

One drink turned into two. Then three.

Not enough to cloud my judgment, but enough to make everything a little looser, a little warmer.

Aurora, for all her sharp edges and stubborn resistance, was relaxing. Not fully, not completely—she still kept a part of herself locked up tight—but the way she leaned in just a little when she talked, the way her lips twitched when I said something ridiculous, the way she was still here instead of finding an excuse to leave.

Yeah, it was progress.

And I liked it. Maybe too much.

The bar had thinned out by the time she finally pushed her empty glass aside.

“Alright, Grady,” she murmured, tilting her head at me. “You win. Medford isn’t entirely awful.”

I grinned. “See? I knew you’d come around.”

She shook her head, but there was no bite to it. Just something else. Something softer.

Dangerous.

I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice just enough to catch the way her breath hitched. “You having a good time, city girl?”

She licked her lips, and my eyes followed the movement.

“Don’t push it,” she muttered.

But she was looking at me differently now.

Like she was thinking about something she knew she shouldn’t. Like she was daring herself to go there.

And hell if I didn’t want to make that decision for her.

I pushed my chair back, standing. “C’mon.”

She blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What?”

“I’m walking you back to the inn.” I offered my hand.

Aurora arched a brow. “You think I can’t walk myself?”

“Oh, I have no doubt you can.” I smirked. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

She hesitated. But then, slowly, she slipped her hand into mine.

And just like that, I knew I was fucked.

The walk to The Medford Inn was quiet, the air crisp, our steps in sync against the pavement.

Aurora didn’t pull away.

Not when my fingers tightened slightly around hers. Not when I glanced down at her and she met my eyes without looking away.

It was a challenge. A question.

By the time we reached the inn, tension buzzed between us, thick enough to choke on.

She stopped at the door, turning to face me.

“Well,” she said, voice quieter now, “this is me.”

I nodded, stepping closer. “Yeah.”

Neither of us moved.

She swallowed, looking up at me, her green eyes unreadable.

I lifted a hand, brushing my knuckles against the side of her jaw, just the lightest touch.

“Tell me no,” I murmured.

She exhaled sharply. But she didn’t say it.

Instead, she fisted her hands in my jacket and pulled me down.

I caught her mouth with mine, groaning when she pressed against me, warm and wanting and done pretending she didn’t feel this too.

The door to the inn swung open behind us, and we barely made it inside before she was tugging me toward the stairs, our movements messy, impatient.

We didn’t stop until we reached her room.

Aurora fumbled with the key, swearing when it wouldn’t turn fast enough.

I chuckled against her neck, running my hands over her waist. “Need help?”

“Shut up,” she muttered, finally getting the door open.

The second it clicked shut behind us, I had her pinned against it, hands braced on either side of her head.

She stared up at me, breathing hard. “This is a terrible idea.”

I grinned. “The worst.”

Then I kissed her again, and we stopped pretending we cared.

Her lips were hot and demanding, her fingers threading through my hair, nails scraping along my scalp as she pulled me closer.

I pressed against her, molding her to me, groaning when she arched up, all heat and hunger, like she’d been fighting this as hard as I had.

I slid my hands down her body, finding the hem of her sweater and tugging it up, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over her head. It landed somewhere behind us, forgotten the second my hands found her skin.

She shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold.

“Goddamn,” I murmured, taking her in.

She was all smooth skin and toned curves, her body a contradiction of softness and strength. A black lace bra cupped her breasts, teasing more than it revealed, and I ran my thumbs just beneath the edge, eliciting a gasp from her.

She tilted her chin up, challenging. “You gonna stare all night?”

I grinned. “Tempting, babe.”

Then I hooked my fingers beneath the straps, sliding them down her arms, savoring the way she shuddered when the fabric dragged against her skin. When I unclasped it, tossing it aside, I didn’t give her time to feel exposed before my mouth was on her.

She gasped, her hands fisting in my hair as I trailed kisses down the curve of her neck, across her collarbone, then lower, taking my time as I teased her with lips and tongue, sucking just hard enough to leave a mark.

Her back arched, her breath coming faster. “Mason.”

“Hmm?” My mouth moved lower, down the plane of her stomach, my fingers making quick work of the button on her jeans.

She exhaled sharply, grabbing at my shoulders. “Bed. Now.”

I chuckled against her skin, but I didn’t argue.

In one swift motion, I lifted her into my arms, and her legs wrapped around my waist as I carried her across the room. The second her back hit the mattress, she was reaching for me, dragging me down on top of her, her thighs tightening around my hips.

I settled between them, grinding against her just enough to make her whimper, just enough to feel how ready she was.

I growled against her throat. “Tell me you want this.”

She fisted my shirt, eyes blazing. “If you make me beg, I will kill you.”

I chuckled darkly. “Noted.”

Then I kissed her again, deeper this time, slower, letting my hands roam, mapping every inch of her body with my fingers, my mouth.

I took my time.

I made her tremble.

And when I finally thrust into her, her head fell back against the pillows, her lips parting on a sharp gasp, her body arching up to take me deeper.

She was tight, hot, slick around me, and I had to grit my teeth, force myself to go slow, to let her adjust.

But she wasn’t having it.

Her nails raked down my back, her hips rolling up to meet mine, her breath coming in quick, uneven gasps.

“More,” she demanded.

And hell if I didn’t give it to her.

I gripped her hips and thrust harder, deeper, setting a rhythm that had both of us unraveling fast.

Her legs tightened around me, her hands clutching at my shoulders, her head tilting back as she moaned, the sound shooting straight through me.

I kissed her throat, her jaw, her lips, swallowing every sound, every gasp, every desperate little plea she didn’t even realize she was making.

She finally shattered beneath me, body tightening, back arching, my name tumbling from her lips. I followed right after, burying myself deep as I lost myself in her completely.

For a long moment, neither of us moved, our bodies tangled, our breaths uneven. Then I lifted my head, brushing my lips against her forehead, her cheek, the corner of her mouth.

She exhaled, her fingers trailing lazily down my back. “Told you this was a bad idea.”

I grinned against her skin. “Worst one yet.”

But neither of us moved.

Neither of us let go.

CHAPTER FIVE

Aurora

I woke up alone. Which was exactly how I wanted it.

I stared at the ceiling of my room at The Medford Inn, sheets tangled around my legs, my body still humming with the aftershocks of last night.

Mason Grady.

His name alone sent a pulse of something hot and dangerous through me.

I squeezed my eyes shut and inhaled deeply. It was just a one-night thing. No big deal.

I’d had flings before. I’d dated. I’d gone home with someone after a few drinks and a good conversation. This wasn’t new to me.

But something about last night felt different.

Maybe it was because Medford wasn’t the kind of place where you could pretend someone didn’t exist the next day. Maybe it was because Mason wasn’t just some random guy. I’d been here less than a week, and he’d already wormed his way under my skin.

Or maybe it was because, for a few hours, I’d let myself forget.

Forget the bookstore. Forget the mess my uncle left me. Forget the fact that my life was unraveling one loose thread at a time.

I groaned and threw the blanket over my face. It was just sex. Stop overthinking it.

I dragged myself out of bed, my body sore in places I hadn't felt in a long time. The good kind of sore. The kind that came from being thoroughly and deliciously wrecked.

Heat flared low in my stomach, but I shoved it down and forced myself to move. Dwelling on last night wouldn’t change anything.

It was just sex.

A damn good mistake, but a mistake nonetheless.

I shuffled into the tiny bathroom, flipping on the light and catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

Jesus.

My hair was a mess, my lips looked a little too swollen, and there were faint marks along my collarbone where Mason had kissed—no, devoured—me.

I swallowed hard and turned on the shower, letting the hot water drown out my thoughts as I stepped in.

It was supposed to be simple. A small-town one-night stand. Something to take the edge off while I figured out what the hell I was doing here.

But Mason wasn’t simple. And neither were his brothers.

I exhaled sharply, pressing my forehead against the cool tile. It wasn’t just Mason who’d gotten under my skin. I was drawn to all of them.

Ethan, with his quiet strength and intense, brooding presence. There was something in his eyes when he looked at me, something unreadable but impossible to ignore.

Owen, with his easy charm and quick wit. He could make anyone laugh, but beneath that, I could tell he kept something hidden. I wasn’t sure what, but I wanted to find out.

And Mason.

Mason, who was all trouble and temptation, who didn’t take anything seriously until, suddenly, he did.

Who had kissed me like he wanted to consume me.

I tipped my head back, letting the water stream over my face.

This was insane.

I hadn't been this attracted to anyone in years, let alone three men.

My love life in the city had been lackluster, to say the least.

Safe. Predictable. A string of relationships that never quite sparked, never made me feel like I was burning from the inside out.

But this?

This was something else entirely. A slow, simmering heat curling in my veins, twisting in my chest, making it impossible to ignore.

And that terrified me.

I didn’t have time for this.

I shut off the water, toweled off, and threw on a pair of jeans and a sweater. My body might have still been buzzing from last night, but my brain needed to be somewhere else. The bookstore.

I grabbed my keys and headed out, ignoring the faint ache in my legs as I made my way down the quiet streets of Medford.

The morning air was crisp, the town just starting to wake up. A few cars rolled by, people walked in and out of The Brewed Bean Café, and for a second, everything felt normal.

Until I saw the bookstore.

My steps faltered, and my heart kicked against my ribs.

The door was ajar.

I know I locked it last night.

I rushed forward, pushing it open the rest of the way, and immediately, my stomach dropped. The place was a disaster.

Papers scattered across the floor. Shelves tipped over.

The register drawer yanked open, its contents dumped out.

A chill crept up my spine as I stepped inside, my boots crunching against broken glass.

What the hell?

I scanned the mess, trying to make sense of it. It wasn’t just a break-in. It was ransacked. Someone had been looking for something.

Swallowing hard, I crouched down, fingers sifting through the scattered papers.

Receipts. Old invoices. Some of my uncle’s handwritten notes about book orders. Nothing seemed valuable.

Until I saw the folder.

It was half-buried under a pile of loose pages, but the moment I picked it up, I knew something was off. The paper inside was yellowed, older than the other documents. I flipped it open and frowned.

Handwritten notes. My uncle’s handwriting, but strange. A list of names. Some underlined. Some crossed out. There were dates, too, but they didn’t seem to correspond to book orders.

A cold unease settled in my chest. Was this what they were looking for?

I heard the creak of the floorboards behind me, and my breath caught.

Not alone.

I spun around, my pulse hammering, but it was only the wind rattling through the broken window.

Okay. Get a grip.

I yanked my phone out of my pocket and dialed the local police station. It rang twice before a curt voice answered.

“Medford Police Department.”

“My bookstore was broken into,” I said, my fingers tightening around the folder I’d found among the mess. “Page Turners on Maple Avenue.”

There was a brief pause, then, “Stay put, ma’am. Officers are on their way.”

Within fifteen minutes, two officers arrived, introducing themselves as Officers Hall and Davis, their uniforms pressed and their demeanor all business. Their arrival didn’t go unnoticed; the usual morning crowd slowed down, curious glances cast in our direction.

These men carried weight in this town—that much was clear.

Hall stepped inside first. His sharp eyes scanned the chaos as Davis lingered near the door, his stance relaxed but his gaze keen.

“Anything missing?” Hall asked steadily.

“I don’t know yet,” I admitted, still clutching the folder. “But it looks like someone was searching for something.”

Davis stepped forward, his hand outstretched.

Reluctantly, I handed him the folder. He flipped through the pages, his expression remaining impassive, but there was a subtle shift in his posture, a hint of recognition that made my stomach clench. Hall looked at it over his partner’s shoulder.

“What exactly is this?” I pressed.

Davis handed the folder back, his eyes meeting mine. “Where did you find it?”

“On the floor, under the mess,” I replied, trying to sound calm.

The two officers exchanged a glance, a silent conversation that left me on edge.

“We'll need to take this down to the station for a closer look,” Hall finally said. “If you come across anything else out of the ordinary, let us know immediately.”

A cold unease seeped into my bones. “Do you think this was personal?”

Davis’s gaze was unreadable, his tone flat. “Everything in this town is personal.”

His words echoed in the quiet store, sending a shiver down my spine.

What the hell had my uncle been involved in? And why did it feel like I was about to find out the hard way?

CHAPTER SIX

Owen

The familiar scent of shoe disinfectant and stale popcorn wafted out from the Medford Bowl as I stepped inside.

Friday night bowling league was in full swing, laughter, the crash of pins, and the low hum of conversation bouncing off the polished lanes.

It was a welcome distraction from work and the mishaps that kept piling up. Nothing serious since the F-150 incident, but the thought of sabotage—like Mason suggested—still bothered me.

Ethan and Mason were setting up their names on the scoreboard, beers in hand. The cops were already talking trash, and the firefighters weren’t far behind.

Ryan, Jaxon, and Colt—cocky as ever—had Lila perched between them. She laughed at something one of them whispered.

They were impossible to rattle. A solid unit, though they’d caused a bit of a stir when they first got together. A lot of people had opinions about their unusual relationship, but who could be mad when they were so clearly happy and in love?

Adam, Kai, and Samuel sat at the next table, half watching the game, half talking business.

“We locked in the property,” Adam said, grinning.

Kai nodded. “Big place. Perfect for what we want.”

“A restaurant?” I asked.

Samuel stretched, looking satisfied. “More than that. A landmark. Medford needs something fresh.”

Mason grunted. “That why you're sitting out tonight?”

“We’re celebrating.” Adam shrugged. “Not stressing over a league game.”

Ethan let his ball fly.

Strike.

He turned with a smirk. “That's why you're gonna lose.”

The firefighters hooted. The cops groaned. Lila cheered.

I grabbed my ball. Lined up. Let it roll.

Strike.

Ryan whistled. “Damn, Grady’s on fire.”

I grinned. “You know it.”

Game on.

Mason scoffed. “One strike doesn’t make you a legend, Owen.”

I smirked. “Neither does running your mouth, but that's never stopped you.”

Ethan clinked his beer against Mason’s. “He's got a point.”

Mason rolled his eyes. “You just like seeing me lose.”

Ethan grinned. “Absolutely.”

Mason took his turn, rolling his shoulders before sending his ball straight down the lane. It veered slightly, just enough to miss the pocket. Eight pins.

“Nice try, little bro,” Ethan said, taking a swig of his beer.

Mason turned, deadpan. “Just because you're older doesn’t make you better.”

“It does when you bowl like that.”

The cops snickered, and Ryan leaned over to Jaxon. “We got it this year, no problem.”

Mason flipped him off before picking up his spare.

“This is better than the game,” Kai said with a chuckle.

Samuel nodded. “Grady entertainment at its finest.”

My turn again. I lined up, letting the noise fade. Rolled. Another strike.

“Could be luck,” Colt said.

“Could be skill,” I countered.

Mason huffed. “Could be annoying.”

Lila nudged him. “Oh, come on. You love the competition.”

Mason muttered something under his breath before grabbing his beer.

Ethan took his turn next, assuming his usual cocky stance, fingers loose on the ball. He sent it rolling, watching it curve at the last second. Strike.

He turned, arms outstretched. “And that's why I’m the favorite.”

Mason snorted. “No one’s ever said that.”

Colt leaned forward. “So you're saying you could take Owen in a one-on-one match?”

Ethan met my gaze. “Absolutely.”

I smirked. “Wanna bet on it?”

The firefighters and cops let out an “ooooh” in unison.

“Here we go.” Mason grinned.

Jaxon tapped his chin. “Loser buys the next round?”

Ryan added, “And wears the pink bowling shirt?”

We all turned to the pro shop’s display—a bright pink monstrosity with “Gutter King” embroidered across the front.

Ethan groaned. “You guys are relentless.”

I grinned. “Still sure you can take me?”

He eyed the shirt. Looked back at me. Then grabbed his ball. “Bring it on.”

The night was just getting started.

Ethan lost.

Badly.

The pink “Gutter King” shirt fit him perfectly, though.

Mason took about fifty pictures, sending them to our group chat. Lila doubled over laughing. The cops heckled him mercilessly, and the firefighters made a toast in his honor. Ryan even wiped a fake tear.

Ethan just downed his beer and grumbled, “Enjoy this while it lasts.”

“Oh, I will,” I said, smirking.

The game carried on, the usual back and forth between our teams filling the alley. Mason got his rhythm back, landing himself a turkey. Colt, despite his trash talk, barely avoided a gutter ball.

Jaxon bowled with the ease of someone who didn’t take it too seriously, while Ryan stayed laser-focused. The cops kept the competition fierce, but the real entertainment came from the sideline commentary.

“Hey, Owen,” Kai called, lifting his beer. “You ever consider running a restaurant with us?”

I snorted. “You think I wanna work for you?”

Adam grinned. “I mean, it’d be more of a partnership, but sure, we could boss you around.”

Samuel leaned back in his chair, watching a strike land two lanes over. “He's good with numbers. Could handle the business side.”

I rolled my shoulders. “You trying to steal me from the shop?”

Kai shrugged. “Just putting it out there. Big plans, my friend.”

I shook my head with a smirk, turning back to my drink.

And that was when I saw her.

Through the window, walking down the sidewalk, wrapped in that deep green coat that made her look like something out of an old Hollywood movie.

Aurora Bennett.

My pulse stuttered before kicking up, sharp and insistent.

She wasn’t even doing anything, just walking, her hair catching the glow of the streetlights. The kind of gorgeous that made the world slow down.

The kind that wasn’t just about looks but something else, something harder to define. Like she belonged somewhere bigger, but had no idea.

She paused outside the bakery across the street.

Just stood there, staring at the darkened windows like they held all the answers to something she hadn't figured out yet.

I knew that feeling.

She looked lonely.

Not in the obvious way. Not the kind where someone’s sitting by themselves at a bar or walking through town without company.

It was deeper than that, the kind that settled in your bones. The kind you carried even when you were surrounded by people.

Before I could think twice about it, I pushed back from the table.

Mason raised a brow. “Where you going?”

“Be right back.”

Ethan, still sulking in his pink bowling shirt, smirked. “Say hi to Aurora for us.”

So he’d noticed her too. Of course he had.

I ignored him, stepping outside into the crisp night air.

She didn’t see me at first. Her arms were wrapped around herself, and she looked like she was trying to talk herself into something. Or maybe out of it.

“Aurora.”

Her head jerked up, eyes wide.

She was even prettier up close, the kind of pretty that made my throat feel tight.

Her hair was loose tonight, falling over her shoulders in soft waves. The streetlights caught hints of auburn in the strands, and for a second, I forgot how to do normal things. Like speak.

Her lips parted slightly, then she blinked. “Owen?”

Hearing my name in her voice did something strange to me. Something I didn’t have a name for.

“You wanna come inside?” I offered. “Have a drink?”

Her brows lifted. “With you?”

“With all of us. It’s Friday. Bowling.”

Did that sound too small-town?

Yeah. I was sure it did.

She huffed out a laugh, quiet but warm. “I’m not really in a drinking mood.”

“Then come in for the company.” I nodded toward the window, where our group was still laughing over something. “It’s loud, but at least it’s not…”

I hesitated. Not lonely. Not whatever it was I saw on her face before.

She seemed to get it anyway. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her coat, like she was debating. Then, finally, she nodded.

“Okay.”

I held the door open, and she stepped inside.

It was a small thing. A simple thing.

But my pulse was racing like I’d just done something way bigger than invite a beautiful woman in for a drink.

Aurora hesitated just inside the door.

The noise, the lights, the easy camaraderie between everyone—it was a lot. I could see it in the way her shoulders tensed, the way her eyes flicked around like she wasn’t sure she belonged here.

I knew that feeling, too.

So I didn’t push. Didn’t crowd her. Just turned toward the bar and said, “What's your drink?”

She blinked at me.

“Oh. Uh,” Her hands tucked into the sleeves of her coat. “I don’t know. I wasn’t really planning on staying.”

I shrugged. “Then it doesn’t count.”

That earned me a small, skeptical smile. “That's not how drinking works.”

I leaned on the counter, nodding toward the bartender. “Beer? Wine? Something fancy with an umbrella?”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t look quite so tense anymore. “Just a cider, I guess.”

I ordered two. Handed her one.

She took it, fingers brushing mine for half a second.

Warm. Soft. She looked at me like she’d felt it too.

“Come on,” I said. “You can sit with me.”

Aurora glanced at the group by the lanes. The guys were still talking trash, Lila was leaning against Jaxon’s side, and Mason was flipping through the scoreboard with his usual intensity.

It was chaos in the best way.

But I got it. She wasn’t there yet.

So I led her to a quieter corner by the high-top tables. Out of the center of things, but still part of the atmosphere. I pulled out a chair, and after a small hesitation, she sat.

“Okay,” she said, tilting her head. “So, do you do this often?”

“What?”

“Find women wandering the streets and lure them into bowling alleys with alcohol?”

I smirked. “Only the ones who look like they could use a drink.”

Her lips twitched, but then her gaze dropped to her cider. She traced the rim with her finger, and something about the movement felt uncertain.

“You okay?” I asked.

She didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then, “I don’t really do this kind of thing.”

“What, bowling?”

“Being out in this sort of environment.” She exhaled, looking almost embarrassed. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just a lot.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I get it.”

She studied me. “Do you?”

I held her gaze. “More than you think.”

Aurora didn’t look away this time. Didn’t fidget or shift like she wanted to escape.

She just sat there, really looking at me, like she was seeing me in a way most people didn’t bother to.

And damn if that didn’t do something to me.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Aurora

This was not what I expected.

I wasn’t sure why I was even here, aside from Owen inviting me in. It was a little small-town, but it was actually kinda cool.

The sound of pins crashing filled the air, followed by groans and cheers. At one of the lanes, a woman stood between two firefighters, laughing at something they said. She had the kind of presence that turned heads—bright, effortless, like she belonged everywhere she went.

I didn’t know her, but I recognized the type. The golden girl. The one who made friends easily, who fit into places like this without a second thought.

So when she caught my gaze and smiled, warm and welcoming, I surprised myself by smiling back. And when she made her way over, drink in hand, I didn’t immediately look for an escape.

“Hey, Owen,” she teased, sliding into the seat beside me. “Didn’t know you had a date tonight.”

Owen snorted. “It’s not a date.”

I took a sip of my cider, smirking. “You sound offended.”

He opened his mouth, then shut it again, shaking his head. The woman grinned.

“I’m Lila,” she said, turning her attention to me. “And you must be Aurora.”

“Must I?”

She laughed. “Oh, you're funny. I like you.”

The words caught me off guard. Not in a bad way—just in a way I wasn’t used to.

People were different here.

Not as cold as they were in the city. Not so career and money obsessed.

It was weird.

Before I could think too much about it, another woman approached. Blonde, sharp green eyes, and a knowing expression. She looked familiar.

She set her drink down on the table, giving me a once-over before nodding slightly, like she’d already figured something out about me.

“Samantha Barnes,” she introduced herself. “You're the bookstore girl, right?”

“That's me,” I said.

She tilted her head, studying me like I was some kind of puzzle. “I’m the barista at The Brewed Bean. So what do you think of Medford?”

It wasn’t an accusation, but it wasn’t exactly a casual question, either.

I waited a beat before answering. “It’s different.”

Lila laughed. “That's a nice way of putting it.”

A third woman pulled up a chair, dark hair framing her face as she settled in. Her eyes flicked toward me with interest, and something about her felt familiar, too, though I couldn’t quite place it.

“Morgan Hayes,” she said. “I think you’ve met my mom. She runs the Medford Inn.”

Ah, yes. She had the same sharp but welcoming energy as her mother.

“I have,” I said, nodding. “She's been great.”

Morgan smirked. “Yeah, she has a way of making people feel at home. Whether they want to or not.”

I huffed out a small laugh, and her smirk turned into a grin.

“If you think Medford’s different now, wait until the summer fair,” she added. “The whole town goes full small-town cliché.”

I shifted in my seat. “I don’t know if I'll still be here by then.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Morgan raised a brow. “No?”

I swallowed. “No, I have… a life elsewhere.”

Lila tilted her head, thoughtful. “Well, while you're here, you might as well have some fun.”

I didn’t respond right away. Because the truth was, I was having fun.

More than I expected. More than I wanted to admit.

Especially when I glanced at Owen, only to find him already looking at me.

And damn it all, I liked the way that felt.

A sharp whistle cut through the noise, and a familiar voice drawled, “Well, well. If it isn’t our bookstore girl, holding court.”

Mason.

I didn’t have to look to know he was grinning, but I did anyway. Sure enough, he was leaning against the table, arms crossed, that lazy smirk firmly in place.

That smirk that reminded me of the other night.

“Don’t let us interrupt, ladies,” he said, flashing a wink. “I just came to see if Aurora needed a bowling coach.”

“I think she's good,” Owen said dryly, shooting his brother a look.

Mason pressed a hand to his chest. “Ouch. That's the thanks I get for offering my services?”

Lila rolled her eyes. “Mason, you're terrible at bowling.”

“Details, Lila. Don’t get caught up in the details.”

I shook my head, fighting a smile. Mason had a way of pulling people into his orbit, like he was born to be the center of attention. I could see why women probably fell at his feet.

But it wasn’t just Mason who made my pulse do stupid things.

It was Owen.

And, if I was being honest, Ethan.

I could feel his gaze from across the room, heavy and intense. When I glanced his way, he didn’t bother looking away. Just studied me like I was some mystery he was trying to solve.

My stomach did something strange.

I quickly turned back to the group, where Mason had somehow roped Lila into a ridiculous debate about bowling technique, complete with exaggerated arm movements. Owen, meanwhile, had disappeared for a moment, only to return with another cider for me.

He set it in front of me, his voice low. “Figured you might be ready for a refill.”

I blinked. “I… Yeah. Thanks.”

He shrugged like it was no big deal, but something about the way he did it, the way he kept making sure I was comfortable, had warmth curling in my chest.

And then Mason ruined it.

“You see that, ladies? Owen’s out here setting the bar high. No wonder the rest of us struggle.”

Owen shot him a glare, but Mason just laughed, reaching for his own drink.

I shook my head, taking a sip of my cider. This whole night was starting to feel like something out of a movie—small-town charm, too many good-looking men, and me, the outsider, getting swept up in it all.

And the worst part?

I wasn’t sure I wanted it to end.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Aurora

A few drinks later, I was relaxed.

I hadn't planned on staying this long, but somehow, between the laughter, the teasing, and Owen making sure my drink was never empty, I lost track of time.

The girls—Lila, Samantha, and Morgan—had a way of making me feel like I belonged, and it was easier than I expected to just lean into it.

Samantha was wickedly funny, quick with sarcasm, and sharp observations. Morgan had a dry humor I appreciated, and Lila? Lila was the kind of person who made you feel like you’d been friends forever, even if you’d just met.

We were huddled at the table, half watching the game and half caught up in our own conversation, when Samantha nudged Lila with her elbow.

“Hey, speaking of high standards,” she said, eyes glinting with mischief, “how are things with your men?”

Lila’s mouth quirked up. “They’re good.”

My brows furrowed. “Your men?”

Lila glanced at me, then at Samantha, as if debating something. Finally, she shrugged. “Yeah. Colt, Jaxon, and Ryan.”

I blinked. “As in three men?”

Morgan snorted. “Oh, here we go.”

Lila didn’t seem offended. If anything, she looked amused. “Yep. Three.”

For a second, I thought I had misheard. Maybe she meant something else. But no. She was completely serious.

I tried to play it cool, taking a sip of my drink. “And you're all together?”

Lila nodded, the picture of ease. “Mmhmm.”

Samantha smirked. “She shocked you, didn’t she?”

I hesitated. “I mean… yeah. I’ve just never seen that before.”

Lila tilted her head, watching me. “I hadn't either. Not until them.”

Something about the way she said it, the quiet certainty in her voice, made my stomach do something strange.

Morgan leaned forward, propping her chin in her hand. “It’s kinda beautiful, actually.”

Lila hummed in agreement. “It is.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Because in all the ways I expected her to describe it, I didn’t think beautiful would be the word.

But looking at Lila, at the way her eyes softened when she talked about them and the family they had created. She seemed so sure of what she had that I believed her.

Samantha grinned at my expression. “It’s messing with your head, isn’t it?”

I let out a breath. “A little.”

Lila laughed. “That's okay. I get it. It’s not for everyone.”

I nodded slowly, still wrapping my head around it. But I couldn’t deny, something about it did sound wonderful.

And that thought?

It scared me more than I wanted to admit.

The night blurred in a haze of warmth, laughter, and the easy comfort of belonging. Something I hadn't expected.

But eventually, the bowling alley emptied, and reality settled back in.

Morgan and Samantha said their goodbyes, and Lila gave me a knowing smile before slipping off into the night. I watched her go, still thinking about what she’d said—about them—but I didn’t have the energy to unpack it right now.

Owen stood beside me, hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

“Come on,” he murmured. “I'll walk you home.”

I hesitated, then shook my head. “I’m not ready to go back to the inn.”

He studied me for a beat, then nodded, like he understood exactly what I meant. “Then come with me.”

I should have said no. Should have gone home, slept off the drinks, and pushed down the feelings clawing their way to the surface.

But instead, I followed him, ignoring all the reasons I had not to.

Owen’s apartment was above the garage at Grady's Auto, separate from the main building. It was small but cozy, all dark wood and warm lighting. Masculine, but not in an overdone way.

I took it in as he shut the door behind us, my fingers running over the edge of his kitchen counter.

“You live alone?” I asked.

He leaned against the doorframe, watching me. “Yeah.”

There was something in his stare, something unreadable but intense.

My heart stuttered, and suddenly, the space between us felt small.

“You want some water?” he asked, his voice rougher than before.

I shook my head. I didn’t want water.

I didn’t want anything but this.

I took a step forward.

So did he.

I wasn’t sure who moved first, but it didn’t matter.

One second, we were staring at each other, tension thick and unspoken. The next, his hands were on my waist, and his mouth was on mine.

The kiss was nothing like I expected. It wasn’t hesitant or soft. It was hungry, like he’d been holding back all night and finally decided to stop.

I let out a quiet gasp as his grip tightened, pulling me flush against him. His body was solid, warm, right.

He tasted like whiskey and something darker, something dangerous.

I shouldn’t be doing this. I should pull away.

But when his teeth scraped against my bottom lip, when his hands slid up my back, when he growled low in his throat.

I melted.

I dug my fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss, losing myself in the way he felt, the way he made me feel.

Wanted.

Desired.

Special.

And when I finally broke away, breathless and wide-eyed, he just stared at me, his chest rising and falling like he was barely holding himself together.

“Aurora,” he murmured, his voice wrecked.

I swallowed. “Yeah?”

He exhaled sharply, like he was deciding something. Then, slowly, his lips brushed against my forehead.

“Stay.”

And damn me.

Because I wanted to.

Owen stood there, watching me, his chest rising and falling in steady, deep breaths. His eyes—those stormy blue eyes—burned with something I wasn’t ready to name, something dark and smoldering.

Something that sent a shiver down my spine.

He was waiting.

Not pressuring. Not demanding. Just waiting for me to make the next move.

So I did.

I reached for the hem of my top, peeling it over my head and letting it drop to the floor.

Owen’s breath hitched. His gaze dragged over my bare skin, lingering on the lace of my bra, the curve of my waist. Jaw flexed, his hands twitched like he was fighting every instinct to grab me, to claim me.

I didn’t want him to hold back.

I stepped closer, closing the space between us until the heat of his body seeped into mine. Until my fingers traced the firm ridges of his stomach through his shirt.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Aurora.”

I tipped my head up, brushing my lips over his jaw, his pulse hammering beneath my touch. “What?”

His control snapped.

With a growl, his hands finally found me, rough and sure as he gripped my waist and lifted me effortlessly onto the counter. My legs spread, and he stepped between them, his body pressing against mine, his heat sinking into every inch of me.

Then his mouth was on mine again, and this time, there was no hesitation.

His lips were demanding, his tongue sweeping inside, taking, exploring, owning. His hands roamed my body, sliding up my back, fisting in my hair, tilting my head so he could deepen the kiss until I was dizzy from it.

I moaned into his mouth, gripping the front of his shirt and yanking, desperate to feel his skin.

He tore it over his head, tossing it aside, and my breath hitched at the sight of him—lean muscle, firm chest, scars I wanted to trace with my tongue.

I bit my lip, my hands trailing over his skin, his body trembling under my touch.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick, raw. “You're driving me crazy.”

“Good,” I whispered, dragging my nails down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath me.

His hands moved to my thighs, his grip firm as he spread them wider, pulling me flush against him. I gasped when I felt him, hard and straining through his jeans, pressing right where I needed him.

Owen’s lips found my throat, sucking, biting, dragging down to my collarbone, my shoulder, the tops of my breasts. Each touch sent a spark of electricity through me, coiling low in my belly, setting every nerve on fire.

I arched against him, needing more.

“Tell me what you want, Aurora,” he rasped against my skin, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of my jeans, teasing. “Tell me.”

I whimpered, rolling my hips against him, chasing friction. “You. I want you.”

That was all he needed.

In one swift motion, he unbuttoned my jeans, dragging them down my legs before his hands found my thighs again, spreading me open for him. His breath hitched as he took me in, his fingers ghosting over the lace between my legs, teasing, torturing.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured, eyes dark with hunger.

Then he was on his knees.

A sharp gasp escaped me as his mouth found the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, his tongue tracing lazy circles, teasing me with what was coming.

“Owen,” I breathed, my fingers tangling in his hair, tugging.

His smirk was wicked, full of promise. “Patience.”

And then his mouth was on me.

I cried out, my back arching, my legs trembling as he licked, sucked, devoured me like he was starving. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me still, his tongue flicking, teasing, until I was panting, writhing, desperate.

He worked me with ruthless precision, bringing me higher, closer, until pleasure coiled tight in my core, ready to snap.

“Owen,” My voice broke, my whole body tightening.

“Let go,” he commanded, his voice thick and rough. “Come for me, Aurora.”

And I did.

A sharp cry tore from my lips as pleasure crashed over me, wave after wave, his tongue never stopping, never easing, until I was shaking, breathless, spent.

Before I could catch my breath, Owen stood, his hands gripping my hips, dragging me to the edge of the counter.

“I need you,” he murmured, his voice ragged. “Now.”

I nodded, dazed. “Yes. Please.”

His lips crashed against mine as he unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down just enough before he lifted me off the counter, wrapping my legs around his waist.

He pressed me against the wall, his breath hot against my neck, his body aligning with mine, and then…

He thrust inside me, stretching me, filling me, making me his.

A strangled moan escaped me as he buried himself deep, his grip tight, possessive. He stayed there for a moment, forehead resting against mine, his breath uneven, his body trembling.

“Fuck, Aurora,” he groaned. “You feel incredible.”

I whimpered again, rolling my hips, urging him on. “Owen, move.”

He did.

His rhythm was slow at first, teasing, making me feel every inch of him, every slow drag and deep thrust. But as I dug my nails into his back, urging him on, his restraint shattered.

He fucked me against the wall, hard and deep, each thrust hitting something devastating inside me. His name fell from my lips over and over, his grip tightening, his pace relentless, worshipful.

I was lost in him.

The way he held me. The way he moved inside me. The way he whispered my name like it was sacred.

And when I shattered again, clenching around him, dragging him over the edge with me, his groan was raw, broken, beautiful.

CHAPTER NINE

Ethan

I didn’t give a damn about the Medford Fall Festival. Never had.

The whole thing was a little too small-town for me—hayrides, pumpkin patches, kids running around sticky with caramel apples. It wasn’t my scene.

But this year, there was a cook-off. And Mason had been talking shit.

“Face it, E,” he’d said last week at Lucky’s, leaning back with that damn smirk. “You can handle a wrench, but the kitchen? That's a different story.”

I’d let it go. At first.

But then he’d made some comment about my “peak culinary ability” being scrambled eggs, and that was it.

Now here I was, standing behind a folding table in the middle of Maple Avenue, surrounded by people who actually cared about things like fall festivals and competitive cooking.

I cracked my knuckles, sizing up my ingredients. Mason was two tables down, already hamming it up for the crowd, talking a big game. Owen, on the other hand, was focused, rolling up his sleeves and setting out his ingredients like he was about to perform surgery.

I exhaled slowly. Time to win this damn thing.

The air was thick with the scent of sizzling butter, roasted garlic, and grilled meat. Around me, people bustled through the festival, stopping at booths, laughing, enjoying the crisp autumn evening.

I tuned it all out.

The only thing that mattered was the grill in front of me.

Mason was making some kind of salmon dish, playing it up like he was a damn Food Network star. But I kept it simple—perfectly grilled steak, garlic butter melting over the top, bourbon-glazed sweet potatoes on the side.

Solid. Reliable. Just like me.

“Smells good,” a voice teased.

I knew who it was before I even turned.

I tightened my grip on the spatula as I looked up.

Aurora was standing at the edge of the cook-off area, arms crossed, watching me with those sharp green eyes that had been haunting me for weeks. Her auburn hair was loose, catching the glow of the festival lights, and the way she looked in those jeans. Damn.

I tore my eyes away, focusing on my grill.

“Didn’t peg you for the competitive-cooking type,” she said, tilting her head.

I arched a brow. “Didn’t peg you for the fall-festival type.”

She shrugged. “I’m expanding my horizons.”

My gaze dropped to her mouth before I could stop myself.

Bad idea, Grady.

Before I could respond, Mason slid up beside her, grinning like an idiot.

“You know,” he drawled, “if you want a taste of something really special, I’ve got a plate with your name on it.”

I shot him a look. “Mason.”

He smirked, completely unbothered. “What? Just being hospitable.”

Aurora laughed, shaking her head. “I think I'll wait and see who wins first.”

Smart woman.

Mason winked. “Fair enough, bookstore girl.”

I watched as her lips twitched, amusement flickering in her expression. She didn’t hate being called that, not really. And the fact that Mason could get her to loosen up, to smile, was frustrating.

But I had more things to focus on right now.

The cook-off was getting into full swing.

The flames from my grill flared, the scent of butter and bourbon filling the air. Around me, the competition was heating up—literally and figuratively.

Mason was still running his mouth while attempting to sear his salmon, which smelled way too fancy for this crowd. Owen, ever the silent competitor, had opted for a slow-cooked pork tenderloin with caramelized apples. Solid choice.

But it wasn’t just the three of us.

Jaxon was a last-minute entry, flipping burger patties like he was born to do it. Ryan was next to him, tossing chili powder into a bubbling pot, determined to prove that “a real man’s dish comes in a bowl.”

Todd Rivers, the bartender from Lucky’s, was making what he called “drunken barbecue ribs.” Given that the man spent most of his time pouring whiskey and beer, I wasn’t surprised he’d found a way to add alcohol to his recipe.

Then there was Harriet Cooper.

The owner of Sweet Maple Bakery—and everyone’s unofficial grandmother—stood at her station, calmly rolling out homemade pasta like she had all the time in the world.

“No need to rush, boys,” she called, her smile deceptively sweet. “A good meal takes patience.”

We were so screwed.

“Damn it,” Mason muttered, eyeing her dough. “She's making pasta? Who let that happen?”

Owen laughed. “Are you gonna tell her no?”

Mason grimaced. “Not if I want to live.”

I smirked, turning my steak with practiced ease. My garlic butter was melting just right, sizzling over the grill, the smell deep and rich.

My gut told me I was in the lead.

But the crowd—and the judges—had yet to weigh in.

A hush fell over the cook-off area as Charlie Dunn, the owner of The Starry Night Theater, stepped onto the small stage with a microphone. He was one of the judges, along with Nancy Hayes, and the local grump who spent most of his time at Lucky’s, Paul Baker.

“All right, folks! The moment you’ve been waiting for—judging time!” Charlie announced, adjusting his glasses. “Our contestants will now plate their dishes, and our esteemed panel will decide the winner!”

I exhaled, steadying myself. It was time to seal the deal.

Mason was already plating his salmon like he was on MasterChef, making sure everything was arranged just so. Owen, ever the minimalist, kept his plate simple. Just meat, apples, and a drizzle of sauce.

I went for presentation, too, but not too much. I arranged the steak just right, let the butter pool at the edges, and made sure the bourbon glaze on my sweet potatoes shone under the lights.

Perfect.

One by one, the judges made their rounds.

Nancy was polite but unreadable, giving each plate a nod before moving on. Charlie took his time, tasting everything carefully, humming to himself. Paul, of course, was a nightmare—grumbling about seasoning, making exaggerated faces, taking notes like this was a life-or-death situation.

Aurora had stuck around to watch, and when she caught my eye, she smirked.

Nervous? she mouthed.

I rolled my shoulders. Not even a little.

That was a lie. I needed a win, what with everything going on at work. Oh, and my epic bowling fail.

That damn pink shirt.

Finally, Charlie returned to the microphone, clearing his throat. “After much deliberation, we have a winner!”

The crowd leaned in.

Ryan nudged Mason. “If Harriet wins, we riot.”

“Agreed,” Mason muttered.

Charlie grinned. “This year’s Medford Fall Festival Cook-Off champion is…”

A pause.

A dramatic, bullshit pause.

“Ethan Grady!”

A cheer went up from the crowd.

Mason groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Jaxon slapped me on the back, laughing. “Damn, man. That steak must’ve been magic.”

I smirked as I took the first-place ribbon, shaking Charlie’s hand. The crowd was still buzzing, people clapping me on the back, and Mason was sulking like a sore loser.

“This is rigged,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “I demand a recount.”

Owen, who had taken third place without a single complaint, just rolled his eyes. “You lost, Mason. Get over it.”

Jaxon was still grinning. “We'll have to get you a Chef Grady apron now.”

“Don’t push your luck,” I grumbled, tucking the ribbon into my back pocket.

I should’ve been enjoying the moment—basking in my victory, rubbing it in Mason’s face, maybe even celebrating with Aurora.

But then I saw her. And my entire body went tense.

Across the square, just past the crowd, Aurora stood near the old library, backed against the brick wall.

Hank Lawson was in front of her, his posture stiff, his expression cold.

And he was yelling.

What the hell?

The celebration around me blurred. Without thinking, I started moving.

Hank leaned in closer, his voice sharp. Aurora’s shoulders squared, but I could see the tension in them, see the way she was holding herself still, like she was forcing herself not to react.

I was across the square in seconds, my pulse pounding.

Hank’s voice cut through the festival noise.

“I don’t know what you think you're doing here,” he spat. “And you think you can just waltz in and take over like nothing happened?”

Aurora didn’t flinch. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Bullshit,” he snapped. “I won’t let you ruin this town.”

I stepped between them, my voice cold. “That's enough, Hank.”

Aurora blinked, her gaze flicking up to me, but she didn’t say a word.

Hank took a slow breath, straightening.

“Ah. Ethan Grady, town hero.” His lips curved. “Should’ve figured you’d come running.”

I didn’t move. “If you’ve got a problem, you take it up with someone else. You don’t corner her in the middle of a damn festival.”

Hank’s expression didn’t change, but I saw the flicker of irritation in his eyes. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“The hell it doesn’t.” My voice dropped lower. “You think I’m just gonna stand here while you harass her?”

Hank exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You don’t know the half of it, Grady. But you will soon enough.”

I clenched my jaw. “Is that a threat?”

“Of course not,” Hank said smoothly. “Just a warning.”

Then, just like that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the festival crowd.

I didn’t move until he was gone.

Aurora let out a slow breath, and I turned to her. “You okay?”

She hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Yeah.”

I didn’t believe her. “Aurora.”

“I don’t even know what that was about,” she cut in, shaking her head. “He's acting like I did something to him when I’ve never even met the guy before.”

I frowned. “He's been sniffing around town for a while now. Trying to buy up property, forcing people out. If he's got a problem with you, it’s because he thinks you're standing in his way.”

Her brows furrowed, and she looked lost in thought.

Then she let out a humorless laugh. “Great. Just what I needed. Some unhinged real estate guy coming after me when I don’t even want to be here in the first place.”

I studied her carefully. “What do you want?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

The words felt like the truth. And for some reason, that made my chest tighten.

I nodded, exhaling. “Come on. Let’s get you a drink.”

She blinked up at me. “A drink?”

I shrugged. “Something stronger than cider.”

For a second, I thought she was going to refuse. But then she let out a breath, her shoulders loosening just a little.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “Okay. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

CHAPTER TEN

Aurora

Who the hell was that man?

My heart was still hammering against my ribs as I walked beside Ethan, the festival lights glowing soft and golden around us, laughter and music blending into a distant hum. But all I could hear was Hank Lawson’s voice.

Your uncle ruined my life.

He stole from me, and you're just waltzing in here like nothing happened?

Page Turners doesn’t belong to you. It never will.

The words replayed over and over in my head, twisting into something dark and sticky, something I couldn’t shake no matter how hard I tried.

Because none of it made sense.

George Bennett had been a bookstore owner. A quiet, quirky old man whose heart had failed him—leaving me his struggling shop and a mess of financial problems.

Sure, his manager, Beatrice, had acted a little strange, but that was just because she didn’t like me. Right? Nothing to do with my uncle, who everyone I’ve met only had kind words for.

But then there was the break-in at the bookstore.

And that folder.

What kind of power did a man like that have over someone like Hank?

I didn’t know much about Medford, but I knew that Hank Lawson wasn’t just some guy. He was the kind of man who spoke in threats disguised as business deals, who didn’t need to raise his voice to make you feel small.

And yet, tonight, he had raised his voice.

Because of me.

Because of my uncle.

I pulled my jacket tighter around myself, my fingers curling into the fabric as Ethan led me away from the festival, toward the quieter side streets of town.

“Tell me what he said.”

Ethan’s voice was low, steady. Controlled in a way that told me he wasn’t.

I glanced up at him. His jaw was tight, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, his shoulders tense like he was ready for a fight that hadn't come.

I let out a slow breath.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “It didn’t make any sense.”

Ethan’s eyes flicked to me. “Try me.”

I hesitated, my mind still spinning. But I had to say it out loud, didn’t I? Maybe it would sound as ridiculous as it felt.

“He said George wrecked his business and life,” I started, keeping my voice low, as if saying it too loud might make it real. “That people in town helped him. And that I will never be able to own Page Turners.”

Ethan stopped walking. I barely had time to react before he turned to face me fully, his eyes sharp, his jaw ticking.

“He said what?”

I swallowed. “That it can’t be mine.”

Ethan exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his hair. “That's bullshit.”

I crossed my arms. “Yeah? Because the way he was talking, he seemed pretty damn sure about it.”

“He's trying to scare you.”

“Well, it’s working,” I snapped before I could stop myself.

The words hung between us for a moment. I hadn't meant to sound so raw, so vulnerable.

But I was.

This was supposed to be simple. Come to town, fix up the bookstore, sell it, and go back to my life.

No one said anything about town feuds. Or shady business deals. Or a man like Hank Lawson shouting threats in my face while the smell of caramel apples and grilled steak filled the air.

I exhaled, pressing my fingers to my temples. “I don’t know what's happening.”

Ethan was quiet for a moment. Then, softer than I expected, he said, “We'll figure it out.”

I looked at him.

He hadn't said you'll figure it out. He’d said we.

And that did something dangerous to my heart.

I should have pulled away. Should have reminded him—and myself—that I wasn’t staying in Medford, that I didn’t need saving.

But instead, I let him guide me forward, down the quiet streets, toward the one place I knew I shouldn’t go.

Ethan’s home.

And God help me, I didn’t want to turn back.

Ethan’s house was tucked away on the edge of town, a small craftsman-style home with warm light spilling from the front windows. It was nothing fancy, but it felt safe. The kind of place that had seen late-night talks over whiskey and early mornings with strong coffee.

He unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping aside to let me in. I hesitated for just a second—because this was a line, wasn’t it?—before stepping over the threshold.

The air inside smelled like cedar. I wrapped my arms around myself as Ethan shut the door, locking it with a quiet click.

“Sit,” he said, nodding toward the couch. “I'll make some tea.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Tea? That's unexpected.”

He smirked, disappearing into the kitchen. “I’m full of surprises. Unless you do want something stronger?”

I considered it for a moment. “Actually, tea sounds perfect.”

I sank onto the couch, my body aching in a way that had nothing to do with exhaustion. My mind was still tangled in Hank’s words, but for the first time all day, I felt like I could breathe.

Ethan returned a few minutes later, setting a steaming mug in front of me. He sat down beside me, close but not too close, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

“So,” he said, voice low. “Talk to me.”

I stared into my tea, watching the steam curl into the air. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Just start anywhere.”

I took a slow sip, gathering my thoughts. “None of this makes sense. My uncle wasn’t some scheming businessman. He was just George, as far as I know. A guy who loved books and probably had more conversations with fictional people than real ones.”

Ethan was quiet, waiting.

I sighed. “What if Hank’s right? What if there’s something I don’t know about George? Beatrice hinted at it, too.”

My parents hadn't been close to him by the time I was a freshman, so talk about him was limited in our house. With them gone too, there's no one close to me who could fill in those gaps about George.

Ethan leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees. “Aurora, listen to me. Hank Lawson is a liar. He's a manipulator. He's using fear to make you second-guess yourself, and it’s working.”

“But what if⁠—”

“No.” His voice was firm, but there was something else there, too. Something gentle. “I know men like him. The more you let him get in your head, the easier it is for him to control the narrative. You don’t let him win by playing his game. And Beatrice. Well, I’m pretty sure she was in love with your uncle, so she's just upset that he's gone.”

I let his words sink in, let the weight of them settle in my chest. I wanted to believe him. More than anything, I wanted to believe that Hank was just blowing smoke and that Beatrice hadn't really meant anything.

But what if that wasn’t the case?

I glanced up at Ethan, and for the first time since I met him, I let myself really look at him. The sharp lines of his jaw, the storm brewing in his blue eyes, the way he sat so still, like he was holding something back.

He was angry. For me.

I wasn’t used to that.

Something in my chest tightened.

“Why do you care so much?” I whispered.

Ethan’s jaw flexed, and for a second, I thought he wouldn’t answer. But then his hand moved, slow and deliberate, brushing against mine on the couch.

Not grabbing. Not demanding. Just there.

“Because I like you, and I don’t think you deserve this,” he said. “No matter what happens.”

A shiver ran through me, but it had nothing to do with the cool night air.

Because this wasn’t just comfort. It wasn’t just friendship.

This was something else.

Something I wasn’t ready for.

Ethan’s fingers tightened around mine, the warmth of his skin sending a slow, unraveling heat through me.

I should have pulled back. Should have reminded myself that this was a bad idea, that I’d already crossed too many lines with his brothers.

But when he turned toward me, his gaze locking onto mine, my breath caught.

The space between us shrank, the air thick with something heavy and unspoken. His eyes flicked to my lips, and my stomach clenched in response.

No. I couldn’t do this.

I wasn’t staying. I wasn’t getting attached. And I sure as hell wasn’t about to make things even more complicated than they already were.

But then Ethan leaned in.

Slow. Deliberate. Like he was giving me time to stop him.

Like he was daring me to.

I should have.

But my body betrayed me.

The moment his lips brushed against mine, soft and sure, every ounce of logic melted away.

A soft gasp escaped me as he deepened the kiss, his free hand sliding up my arm, tracing heat in its wake. He kissed me like he’d been holding back for too long, like he was tired of pretending he didn’t want this.

And damn it, I kissed him back. Because it felt right.

Because the way he touched me wasn’t demanding, wasn’t possessive—it was something else entirely. Something that made my heart ache.

But then Mason’s hands flashed through my mind. Owen’s mouth against my skin.

I broke away, my breath unsteady, my head spinning.

Ethan’s forehead rested against mine, his breathing just as uneven as mine.

“Aurora,” he murmured, his thumb tracing slow circles over the back of my hand.

What the hell had I done now?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Aurora

I should have pulled away. Should have told him this was a mistake.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I tilted my head ever so slightly, my lips brushing against his in a whisper of a kiss so soft, so tentative, it barely felt real.

Ethan groaned, low and deep in his chest, his fingers tightening around mine. Then his other hand was at my jaw, tilting my face up, and before I could think, before I could second-guess, he kissed me again.

It wasn’t slow this time. It wasn’t careful.

It was need and heat and restraint unraveling all at once.

His lips were firm, demanding, parting mine with a hunger that sent a slow, aching pulse through me. His hand slid from my jaw to the back of my neck, his fingers threading into my hair, tugging just enough to send a shudder racing down my spine.

I gasped, and he took the sound into his mouth, deepening the kiss, his tongue stroking against mine with a possessiveness that made my knees weak.

God, I should stop this.

But when Ethan shifted closer, his body pressing against mine, all rational thought disappeared.

I pressed my hands against his chest, feeling the solidness of him beneath his shirt. His heart pounded hard, matching the frantic rhythm of my own, and when my fingers curled into the fabric, he made a rough sound and pulled me into his lap.

A soft moan escaped me as my thighs settled on either side of him, my body fitting against his like I belonged there.

Ethan’s hands skimmed down my back, over my hips, gripping me tight as he dragged me closer until there was nothing between us but the heavy thrum of anticipation.

His mouth left mine, trailing a slow, burning path along my jaw and down my neck. The scrape of his stubble created delicious friction against my skin, and when he reached the sensitive spot just below my ear, he sucked lightly, his teeth grazing just enough to make me gasp.

“Ethan,” I breathed, my fingers sinking into his hair.

He groaned against my skin, his hands sliding under my sweater, fingertips teasing the bare skin at my waist. His touch was electric, scorching a path up my ribs, over the curve of my back.

I arched into him, desperate for more, for anything, for everything.

Because this wasn’t careful. This wasn’t planned.

This was fire.

And I was already burning.

Ethan’s hands were firm as they explored, like he was mapping every inch of me. His fingers splayed over my back, his palms warm against my bare skin.

I gasped when he tugged my sweater up, just enough to expose my stomach to the cool air. His mouth followed, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down the column of my throat.

I shivered, and his grip tightened.

“Cold, sweetheart?” His voice was low, rough with restraint.

“No,” I whispered, breathless. “Not even a little.”

Because heat was coiling low in my stomach, spreading like wildfire, and the only thing I felt was him.

Ethan pulled back just enough to meet my gaze. His blue eyes burned with something dangerous, something raw, and it sent a shudder through me. He looked at me like I was something to be savored.

Something to be worshipped.

His fingers brushed against my ribs, teasing the edge of my bra. When I didn’t stop him, he pushed my sweater higher, and his breath hitched.

“Aurora.” My name was a plea, a curse, a prayer all in one.

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

All I could do was feel.

Ethan’s mouth found mine again, a kiss that unraveled me at the seams. His hands cupped my waist, then slid higher, his thumbs tracing circles over my skin, setting off a chain reaction of longing.

I rocked against him, instinct taking over, needing more, needing closer.

He exhaled sharply, his fingers digging into my hips. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

I swallowed hard. “Then show me.”

Something dark flickered in his eyes, something that made my pulse stutter.

And then he did.

With a quiet growl, Ethan lifted me effortlessly, shifting us until I was beneath him, my back pressing into the couch. His weight settled over me, a solid, undeniable heat, and the sensation sent a shiver through me.

He kissed me again, slower now, like he wanted to take his time unraveling me. His lips trailed lower, down the slope of my throat, over my collarbone. His hands followed, sliding over my bare skin with a reverence that made my head spin.

I arched into him, chasing every touch, every kiss, every slow, torturous inch of contact.

I’d had nights of passion before. With Mason, it had been reckless, all-consuming. With Owen, it had been playful, teasing, easy.

But this.

This was something different.

Ethan wasn’t just touching my body. He was learning it, memorizing it. He was savoring every inch of me like he had nowhere else to be, like I was the only thing that mattered.

Ethan’s breath was ragged, his body taut with restraint as he hovered over me, his hands gripping my waist like he was holding himself back.

I didn’t want him to.

I wanted to see him lose control.

With a slow, deliberate motion, I pushed against his chest, guiding him back. His brows furrowed, his lips slightly parted as he let me maneuver him until he was sitting back against the couch, his legs spread wide, his hands resting on my hips.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice husky, threaded with tension.

I didn’t answer.

Instead, I slid down between his thighs, my hands trailing over the firm muscles of his chest, then lower to his stomach, feeling the way his breath hitched beneath my touch.

His fingers flexed on my waist, but he didn’t stop me.

Didn’t even try.

I kissed a slow path down his torso, my lips exploring, tasting the salt of his skin as I went. His body tensed beneath my mouth, every muscle coiled like a wire ready to snap, but he still didn’t stop me.

He let me take control.

Let me unravel him.

And when I finally reached the waistband of his jeans, when I popped the button and slid the zipper down, his breath left him in a shuddering exhale.

“Aurora.”

His voice was almost a warning.

I smiled against his skin, my fingers teasing over the exposed edge of his boxers, feeling the hard length of him beneath. The power in that moment sent a thrill through me, knowing I could make him lose himself.

I wanted to taste him. To hear him come undone.

To get to know more of him.

I looked up, meeting his gaze, holding it as I tugged at his jeans, sliding them lower. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, his hands fisting at his sides.

And when I leaned in, pressing my lips just above his waistband, his restraint shattered.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back against the couch.

I took my time, teasing, tasting, reveling in the way he responded to every flick of my tongue, every slow stroke of my lips. His hands tangled in my hair, not guiding, not demanding, just holding, as if he needed something to anchor himself.

When I finally took him fully into my mouth, his entire body jerked, a raw sound tearing from his throat.

“Aurora.”

I hummed against him, letting my tongue trace slow, deliberate patterns over him, enjoying the way his muscles tensed, the way his hands flexed, the way he was completely at my mercy.

And God, I loved it.

I loved the way he came undone for me.

Loved the way he said my name like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to this earth.

Ethan’s entire body trembled beneath my touch, his fingers tangled in my hair, his breath ragged and uneven. I could feel the tension coiled inside him, the barely restrained control threatening to snap.

And I wanted him to snap.

I wanted him to lose himself completely.

With one last slow, deliberate drag of my tongue, I pulled back, my lips brushing his skin as I whispered, “I want you.”

Ethan cursed under his breath, his grip tightening as he pulled me up, his mouth claiming mine in a kiss that left no room for hesitation. It was fire and urgency, his hands roaming over my body once again.

He lifted me effortlessly, his strength undeniable as he carried me to the bedroom. The air between us was thick with need, the anticipation almost unbearable as he set me down on the bed, his body hovering over mine.

“You sure?” His voice was rough, edged with restraint, but his eyes. His eyes were pure heat.

I hooked my legs around his waist, pulling him down so I could feel every hard inch of him against me. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

That was all it took.

His mouth was everywhere—my neck, my collarbone, the swell of my breasts—leaving a trail of heat in its wake. I arched into him, desperate for more, for all of him.

Clothes disappeared between heated kisses and wandering hands, the cool air against my skin only making me more aware of how much I needed him.

When he finally pressed against me, skin to skin, I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders. He was slow at first, teasing, torturing, dragging out the moment until I was trembling beneath him, my body aching for release.

“Ethan,” I breathed, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Please.”

Something in him shattered at that word.

With a groan, he pushed inside me, filling me completely, stretching me in a way that sent pleasure sparking through every nerve in my body.

I clung to him, my breath stolen as he moved. Deep, slow strokes at first, making me feel every inch of him. His name was a prayer on my lips, his hands gripping my hips, anchoring us together.

Then the pace changed.

The restraint broke.

Ethan’s control snapped, and suddenly, it was raw and desperate, the room filled with the sound of our bodies moving together, the sharp intake of breath, the whispered curses and moans.

I was lost in him, in the way he moved, in the way he worshipped my body with every touch, every kiss. And when I finally shattered around him, pleasure crashing over me in waves, he wasn’t far behind, his body tensing as he found his own release.

He collapsed against me, his forehead resting against mine, our breaths mingling, our bodies still tangled together.

Neither of us spoke.

Because there were no words for this. No words for what just happened.

What had happened a few times since I’d been here.

No words for the dangerous, terrifying truth settling in my heart.

I was in a complicated mess, and there was no way of getting out.

What the hell was Medford doing to me?

CHAPTER TWELVE

Mason

The gym smelled like sweat and metal, the way it always did.

The clang of weights, the rhythmic thudding of feet on treadmills, and the occasional grunt filled the space as I stood by the bench press, spotting Owen.

Ethan was at the punching bag, his fists landing with sharp, deliberate force, his usual brooding intensity cranked up a notch.

I leaned against the barbell rack, arms crossed, and smirked. “So, what's the plan for movie night at The Starry Night?”

Owen set the bar back with a grunt and sat up, wiping his forehead with his shirt. “No clue. Haven’t thought about it.”

I rolled my shoulders. “Well, I was thinking I might ask Aurora to be my date.”

Silence.

Owen’s head snapped toward me. Ethan froze mid punch, his knuckles hovering inches from the bag. The air in the gym suddenly felt heavier, charged, like the second before a thunderstorm.

“What?” I asked, glancing between them.

Owen scrubbed a hand down his face. Ethan grabbed a towel and turned away, shaking his head.

“You can’t,” Owen muttered.

I let out a short laugh, expecting some kind of joke, but neither of them cracked a smile.

“Oh, come on. You two aren’t actually,” I stopped, their guilty expressions hitting me like a gut punch. “Wait. No. No way. You guys are genuinely into her? I thought you just liked the way she looked. Plus, she's not from here, so she's a new face.”

Ethan let out a slow breath and grabbed his water bottle. “It’s complicated.”

I blinked, then laughed, because honestly, what else was I supposed to do? “Complicated? Are you kidding me? I said I was thinking about taking her to a damn movie, and you two are acting like I suggested marriage.”

Owen shifted awkwardly, then shrugged, trying for nonchalance but failing. “Well, I think she might be into me.”

I narrowed my eyes. “The hell does that mean?”

He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding my gaze.

“After bowling night, I walked her home. We talked, and…” He hesitated, then sighed. “One thing led to another.”

I blinked. My brain stalled for a solid five seconds before catching up.

“You slept with her?”

He didn’t answer, but the way he looked at the floor told me everything I needed to know.

A slow, hot wave of something I didn’t want to name crawled up my spine.

Before I could even react, Ethan let out a sharp breath. “Unbelievable.”

I turned to him, and my stomach twisted at the way his jaw clenched, his fists tight at his sides. He looked furious.

“Oh, don’t even start,” I said. “What's your problem?”

Ethan’s glare could’ve cracked concrete. “Because I was with her two nights ago.”

Silence.

Owen stiffened beside me.

I felt like someone had just knocked the air out of my lungs.

Ethan exhaled sharply. “After the Fall Festival, I walked her home. And yeah. Same thing. One thing led to another, I guess.”

His voice was tight, controlled, but there was no mistaking the edge beneath it.

My pulse pounded in my ears.

I let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand down my face. “Well, that's really interesting, Ethan.”

His eyes snapped to mine, sharp as a blade. “Yeah? And why’s that?”

I huffed out a humorless laugh and shook my head. “Because I was with her first. Not just before you, but before either of you even thought about making a move.”

Owen’s head jerked up, his brows pulling together. “What?”

Ethan’s grip tightened around his water bottle like he was imagining crushing it. “What the hell are you talking about?”

I crossed my arms, my stomach twisting with something I didn’t want to name.

“Not long after she came to Medford, I ran into her and took her to Lucky’s. We had drinks, talked, and, well…” I shrugged. “As you said, one thing led to another.”

Owen muttered a curse under his breath.

Ethan’s expression darkened. “And you never thought to mention that?”

I snorted. “I don’t exactly tell you about everyone I sleep with.”

Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

I could handle casual. That's who I was. Hell, I’d built my whole damn reputation on it.

But this? This wasn’t casual.

Because, for once, I actually liked her.

Not just for the night. Not just for the chase.

I liked the way she held her ground with me, the way she looked at me like she saw something more than the smooth-talking, easygoing guy everyone assumed I was.

And now I had to stand here and listen to my brothers tell me they felt the same way.

I could feel it coming before it even started.

That split-second charge in the air, the way Owen’s shoulders tensed, the way Ethan’s jaw locked. We weren’t just pissed—we were on the edge of something we’d never done before.

And I wasn’t sure if we were going to walk away from it.

Owen was the first to crack.

“You think this is funny?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the heavy silence. “You just sit back and listen to this like it’s some kind of joke?”

My head snapped toward him.

“You think I’m laughing? You think I like standing here, finding out that both of you,” I pointed between them, my chest burning. “That both of you have been with her, too?”

Ethan scoffed. “You're acting like you didn’t start this whole damn thing.”

I barked out a bitter laugh. “Oh, screw you, Ethan. Don’t act like you're on some moral high ground here.”

He took a step closer, his fists clenched. “I didn’t say a damn thing about morals. I’m saying you're acting all outraged when you were the first one in her bed.”

Owen’s hands shot up.

“Alright, that's enough.” But he wasn’t looking at Ethan. He was looking at me. “You're the one always talking about how nothing ever gets serious with you. That women don’t mean anything beyond a good time. So why the hell does it bother you so much?”

I felt that one like a punch to the ribs.

Because it was different. Because she was different.

But I wasn’t about to admit that to them.

Instead, I let my own anger take over.

“You really wanna stand there and act like you're any better?” I snapped at Owen. “Like you weren’t doing the exact same thing?”

His expression twisted, and just like that, we were past the point of no return.

Ethan shoved me first. Not hard, but enough to knock me back a step.

I met his glare head on. “Try that again, big guy. See what happens.”

Owen groaned. “You two are ridiculous.”

But Ethan wasn’t backing down. “No, what's ridiculous is all of us pretending this isn’t a problem.”

“Oh, it's a problem,” I said, voice low. “The question is what the hell we’re gonna do about it.”

Owen exhaled sharply. “Well, we’re sure as hell not gonna start swinging at each other like a bunch of idiots.”

Ethan’s nostrils flared, but he didn’t make another move.

I clenched my jaw so tight it ached. “I can’t do this.”

Owen frowned. “Mason.”

But I was already grabbing my bag. Already storming toward the door before I did something I couldn’t take back.

Because the truth was, we’d never been in this position before. It was never an issue.

Until now.

And for some damn reason, all I could think about was Lila.

And the firefighters.

Jaxon, Colt, and Ryan had been just as stubborn, just as possessive when it started. Everyone in town thought it would blow up in their faces, that there was no way three men could make it work with one woman.

But damn if they hadn't proved everyone wrong.

They weren’t just happy—they were rock solid.

They had their own place, a life that fit them, a relationship built on trust and understanding, and the kind of passion that made people jealous as hell.

I’d seen them together at the Fall Festival, the way Jaxon had his arm around her waist while Colt whispered something in her ear, Ryan watching her with that quiet, steady kind of love.

They didn’t fight over her.

They fought for her.

And now? Now they were the kind of thing people envied. The kind of thing no one saw coming, but that made perfect sense once it happened.

The thought made my stomach twist.

Because the question was no longer what happened with Lila and the firefighters. It was whether something like that could ever happen with Aurora.

With us.

I shoved the gym door open and stepped into the cold air, my pulse still hammering.

I had no idea what came next. But one thing was for sure—nothing between us would ever be the same.

I drove to the shop on autopilot, my brain still trying to make sense of the disaster back at the gym.

I wasn’t even sure why I went there.

Maybe because working on cars was the one thing that usually helped me shut off my damn thoughts. Maybe because I needed something—anything—to get my head straight.

Or maybe I just didn’t want to go home and deal with whatever the hell came next.

I didn’t want to spend too much time thinking about it. But the second I pulled into the lot, I spotted her.

Aurora.

She stood by the front office, arms crossed, shifting her weight like she was itching to be anywhere but here.

Her hair was pulled up in that messy, effortless way that somehow still made her look stunning, and she was chewing on her lip, her expression tense.

She didn’t see me at first, too busy frowning at her phone. But when she looked up and our eyes met, something flickered across her face, something I couldn’t quite place.

She hesitated for half a second before offering a small, uncertain smile. “Hey.”

I forced myself to breathe. Forced my heart to quit acting like a goddamn idiot. “Hey, yourself.”

I hopped out of my truck, shutting the door harder than necessary, and shoved my hands into my pockets as I approached.

“What brings you here?”

She sighed, glancing toward the garage. “I was just wondering how long my car is going to be.”

“You that keen to get out of here?” She didn’t say anything. “Ethan has been working on it, but let me take a look.”

I opened up the shop, focusing on the problem—her car, not the fact that every time I saw her, it felt like the damn ground shifted beneath me.

I held the door open, letting her step inside first.

The shop smelled like oil and metal, the kind of scent that was familiar, steady. Something I could count on.

Unlike the mess in my head.

Aurora tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she followed me through the garage, her eyes flicking around like she was committing every detail to memory.

I wondered if that was because she wanted to remember it or because she wanted to be sure she never had to come back.

The thought shouldn’t have stung as much as it did.

I grabbed a rag from the workbench and wiped my hands, even though they weren’t dirty. “Ethan was working on your car this morning. He said something about the steering column still needing an adjustment, but I can take another look.”

“Thanks.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. I could feel her watching me, like she was waiting for me to say something.

Or maybe she was trying to figure out what the hell was going on in my head.

I wasn’t sure what she saw there, but whatever it was made her exhale softly.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice softer now.

I let out a short laugh, running a hand through my hair. “Yeah. Long day.”

She didn’t look convinced.

I bent over the hood of her car, focusing on the engine, on the mechanics, on anything that wasn’t the way her presence messed with me.

But my fingers hesitated on the tools, my brain still replaying what had gone down at the gym.

Ethan. Owen. The unspoken war brewing between us.

And then there was her. Standing right here.

Unaware of the firestorm she’d just set off between three brothers who had never let a woman come between them before.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Aurora

The shop smelled like grease, metal, and something citrusy. Probably Mason’s cologne or soap.

It was warmer inside than I expected as he worked under the hood of my car, sleeves pushed up, forearms flexing as he tightened a bolt.

I should have been thinking about my car.

About how soon I could get out of Medford.

Instead, my eyes wandered.

The garage wasn’t messy, but it had that organized chaos feel, like everything had its place even if it didn’t look that way. Tools lined the workbenches, and a few jackets were tossed over a chair in the corner. A half-empty coffee cup sat next to a pile of invoices.

And then I saw it.

Something small. Unassuming.

But so wildly out of place, I stopped mid-step.

A brass key.

Not just any key. A Page Turners key.

I knew that design—ornate edges, slightly worn, the same kind I’d found in my uncle’s basement—although I hadn't yet found what it unlocked.

My stomach clenched. What the hell was it doing here?

I reached out and picked it up, the cool metal pressing into my palm.

“Mason,” I said slowly, turning toward him.

“Hmm?” He didn’t look up, still focused on the engine.

I held the key up. “Why do you have this?”

That got his attention. He straightened, wiping his hands on a rag before glancing my way. His brows pulled together.

“What is it?”

I turned it over in my fingers. “This is from Page Turners.”

Mason’s frown deepened as he stepped closer, leaning in to get a better look. “You sure?”

I shot him a look. “I’m the one who owns the place, aren’t I?”

He huffed a short laugh but took the key, rolling it between his fingers. “Huh.”

“That's all you’ve got to say?” I crossed my arms. “Why do you have a key to something in my bookstore?”

Mason shook his head. “I don’t. This isn’t mine.”

I studied his face, but he looked as genuinely confused as I felt. “Then what's it doing here?”

“No idea.”

He glanced around the shop, like the answer might be hiding somewhere in the oil-stained floor or between the toolboxes.

A prickle ran down my spine.

First, the weird discrepancies in my uncle’s paperwork, then the strange interaction with Hank Lawson, and now this?

Something wasn’t adding up.

I exhaled sharply. “You think Ethan or Owen left it here?”

Mason rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe. But why the hell would they have a key from Page Turners?”

I had no answer for that.

I swallowed, my grip tightening around the key. What the hell was going on in this place?

Before Mason could say anything else, my phone rang, the sharp buzz making me jump. I pulled it from my back pocket, wincing at the name on the screen.

Daniel Parker.

Shit.

Mason raised a brow. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I muttered, but I doubted I sounded convincing. I took a few steps away, inhaling deeply before answering. “Hey, Daniel.”

“Aurora.” His clipped tone sent a familiar wave of anxiety through me. I hated that tone, it never led to anything good. “What the hell is going on? I thought you’d be back by now. We have a meeting with Sterling and Co., remember?”

Crap. I’d forgotten. “Things have been a little hectic.”

“That's putting it lightly,” he said. “You’ve been gone a long time now, Aurora. You were supposed to wrap things up there, not settle in.”

My jaw clenched. “I’m not settling in. I just need a little more time.”

It’s not like I hadn’t been working from home—answering emails, offering suggestions—even though we had agreed on an unpaid leave for as long as I needed. Sure it's taking me longer than we both expected but…

“You don’t have more time,” he snapped. “We’re drowning without you. Carter botched the last campaign, and the clients are getting antsy. We need you back in the city. Now.”

I turned away from Mason’s curious gaze, gripping the key so tightly it bit into my palm. “I told you, I’m handling things here.”

“Well, handle them faster,” Daniel bit out. “You have a life here, and a career if you want one. You need to take this seriously.”

It was a future I had been working toward for years. But now, the idea of going back didn’t light me up the way it used to.

“I'll be back soon,” I said, though the words tasted like a lie.

Daniel sighed. “You’d better be. And I want to be kept more in the loop about things."

The call disconnected, leaving a hollow silence in its wake.

I turned back to Mason, my pulse thrumming. His gaze was steady, assessing.

“That sounded fun.”

I forced a tight smile. “My boss.”

“You in trouble?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

He tilted his head, studying me. “You don’t sound like someone who wants to go back.”

I swallowed hard. “I don’t know that either.”

And that scared me more than anything.

The afternoon sun danced over Pinewood Dog Park, stretching long shadows across the grass.

Biscuit, Lila’s overly enthusiastic corgi, was currently zooming in wild circles, tongue lolling, while Lila and I sat on a bench near the fence.

It was nice of her to invite me for a walk. I really needed some fresh air and a friend.

Someone to talk to about everything.

“So,” Lila said, stretching the word out. “I don’t know nearly enough about you, Aurora. Tell me about your life. You know, before you came here.”

I sighed, rolling my coffee cup between my hands. “There’s not much to say.”

Lila gave me a look. “Aurora.”

I groaned. “Fine. My boss is pissed at me.”

“Why?”

“Because I was only supposed to be gone a few days, and now it’s been… longer. And I’m not even done yet.”

Lila let out a low whistle. “Damn. Yeah, I can see why they’d be mad. But come on, you're a marketing executive, right? Don’t they have a million of you in the city?”

I let out a dry laugh. “Not quite. And not ones who handle my accounts.”

She raised a brow. “So, what? The whole company will collapse without you?”

“Honestly? No,” I admitted. “But it feels like it will. That's the thing about my job. It’s all high pressure, all the time. If I don’t answer emails within an hour, people act like the world is ending.”

Lila frowned. “That sounds awful.”

I let out a breath. “Yeah. I mean, I thought I loved it. I’ve spent years working my way up. Late nights, early mornings, pushing harder than everyone else. And now?” I stared down at my coffee. “Now I’m not even sure I like it.”

Lila didn’t say anything right away, just watched me with that sharp, knowing look of hers.

“How come?” she finally asked.

I contemplated before admitting, “Because for the first time in years, I’ve had a chance to breathe. A moment away from it all. And I’m realizing that my whole life is work. I don’t really have anything else.”

Lila’s expression softened. “No friends?”

I swallowed, feeling a little ridiculous. “Not really. I mean, I have work friends, but outside of that? I don’t know. I’ve been so focused on my career that I never really thought about it.”

“Wow.” Lila nudged me gently. “That's kinda sad, babe.”

I let out a dry laugh. “Yeah. I’m starting to figure that out.”

She tilted her head. “So, what now?”

I exhaled. “I don’t know. Part of me feels like I should go back. But another part of me—” I paused, staring out at Biscuit as he happily pounced on a leaf. “Another part of me doesn’t want to. Is that crazy?”

Lila grinned. “Sounds to me like Medford might be growing on you.”

I bit my lip, thinking of the bookstore. The people. The Grady brothers.

Maybe it was.

“But things aren’t easy at Page Turners either, you know?”

“You having trouble selling it?”

“It’s not just that.” I sighed to myself. “It’s weird. I feel like things are off.”

She arched a brow. “That's cryptic.”

I toyed with the lid of my drink. “I found a key today. At the auto shop.”

Lila took a sip of her iced tea, waiting.

“It was from Page Turners. I found the same one in my bookstore basement.”

That got her attention. “And what the hell was it doing there?”

“No clue.” I shook my head. “Mason swore it wasn’t his, and he seemed as confused as I was. He said he’d ask his brothers.”

Lila hummed. “Hmmm, that is odd. But maybe it’s just, I don’t know, one of those small-town things. Everyone knows everyone here.”

I shot her a look. “That's not comforting.”

She grinned. “I wasn’t trying to be.”

I sighed, stretching my legs out. “Something’s off, Lila. First, my uncle’s finances don’t make sense, then there's the whole Hank Lawson situation, and now a key to my basement shows up at the Grady boys' garage?”

“You think there's a connection?”

I chewed on my lip. “I don’t know. But my gut says yes.”

Lila tapped her nails against her cup, watching me closely. “So what's your next move?”

I let out a slow breath. “I don’t know.”

She snorted. “That's not like you, is it?”

I blinked at her. “What do you mean?”

Lila tilted her head. “You seem like the kind of woman who always has a plan. Who always knows what to do next. And now you're just floating.”

She wasn’t wrong. That was exactly how I felt untethered, uncertain, stuck between two lives that didn’t quite fit anymore.

“I guess I am,” I admitted.

She leaned back against the bench, crossing one leg over the other. “Well, floating’s not a bad thing, you know. Sometimes you need to drift a little before you figure out where you're supposed to land.”

I exhaled sharply. “That sounds poetic, but it also sounds like a good way to crash and burn.”

Lila laughed. “Maybe. But if you're already questioning everything, do you really want to go back to a life that doesn’t feel right?”

I opened my mouth, but no answer came. Because I didn’t know.

And that was the scariest part.

Biscuit came bounding over, his little legs moving at lightning speed, and jumped onto my lap, wiggling excitedly.

Lila smirked. “Even Biscuit thinks you should stay.”

I huffed out a laugh, rubbing behind his ears. “I bet Biscuit thinks I should just hand-feed him treats all day.”

She shrugged. “Hey, maybe that's the life lesson here. Forget marketing—stay in Medford and run a dog bakery.”

I snorted. “Now that's insane.”

Lila grinned. “Okay, so what about Page Turners?”

I didn’t have a response for that either.

Because deep down, I knew she had a point.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Owen

The garage was quiet. Too quiet.

I was wiping down a socket wrench when Mason walked in, looking pissed, and tossed something onto the workbench.

A key. Brass. Ornate edges.

A little worn.

I glanced at him. “Okay. And?”

“Recognize it?”

I picked it up, turning it over. “Should I?”

“It’s from Page Turners.”

That got my attention. I looked up. “You sure?”

“Aurora's sure.” His tone was sharp. “Said it's the same kind her uncle has in the basement.”

I frowned. “Where’d you find it?”

“Here. In the shop.”

I let out a slow breath. “You have no idea how it got here?”

Mason’s jaw tightened. “No, Owen. I don’t.”

Shit.

I set the key down. “Ethan?”

“I'll ask him, but I doubt it.” Mason ran a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t make sense. Why the hell would we have a key to her place?”

Good question.

I’d never set foot in Page Turners before Aurora came back. Neither had Mason, far as I knew.

Which meant either Ethan had some explaining to do…

Or we had a bigger problem.

I exhaled. “Adding this to the growing list of weird shit happening around here.”

Mason grunted. “No kidding.”

I rolled the key between my fingers. Something about this felt off.

Mason crossed his arms. “We need to ask Ethan.”

I nodded. “Yeah. Let’s…”

The shop door swung open, and Hank Lawson stepped inside, all smug confidence and fake charm. He wore a tailored jacket, too nice for a place like this, and smelled like expensive cologne.

Mason stiffened.

I clenched my jaw.

Hank fucking Lawson.

“Afternoon, boys.” His voice had that oily smoothness that made my skin crawl. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

Mason didn’t move. “What do you want?”

Hank smiled like we were old friends.

We weren’t.

“Same thing I wanted last time. And the time before that.” He slid his hands into his pockets. “I’m making another offer.”

My hands curled into fists.

The auto shop. He wanted it.

Just like he wanted half the damn town.

“No.” Mason’s voice was flat.

Hank tsked. “You haven’t even heard my price.”

“Don’t need to.”

His smile stayed, but there was something sharp in his eyes. “You boys are holding onto a sinking ship. I’m offering a lifeboat.”

Mason stepped forward, tension rolling off him in waves. “We’re not selling.”

Hank sighed, shaking his head like we were disappointing children. “You're making a mistake.”

I stepped beside Mason. “Pretty sure it’s our mistake to make.”

Hank studied us for a beat. Then he chuckled. “Stubborn, just like your grandfather.”

Mason’s jaw twitched. I took a slow breath, keeping my temper in check.

Hank adjusted his cufflinks. “Well. The offer stands. But don’t wait too long. This town’s changing, whether you like it or not. When you're ready to hear my price, let me know.”

He turned and strolled out, whistling like he hadn't just threatened everything we’d built.

The second the door shut, Mason exhaled sharply.

“Asshole.”

My mind went back to the mistakes we seemed to be making lately, but nothing came up in our investigation. Could it have been a coincidence that we got complaints from our clients at the same time Hank started pestering us about selling?

He seemed like the kind of guy who would do anything to get his way, but I doubted he’d bothered to tank our business like that.

"Yep.” I ran a hand through my hair. “What do you think his plan is for Medford?”

Mason snorted. “To turn it into a generic place—nothing special.”

I rolled my eyes. “Where the hell is Ethan?”

Mason rubbed his jaw. “Gym, I think. Let’s go.”

We didn’t have to. A second later, Ethan walked in, shaking out his damp hair. His shirt was soaked with sweat, knuckles red.

Probably went too hard on the bag.

He paused when he saw us. “What?”

Mason didn’t waste time. “Hank was just here.”

Ethan’s expression darkened. “That son of a bitch.”

“Offered to buy the shop again.”

Ethan rolled his shoulders like he was physically shaking off the thought. “What’d you tell him?”

Mason gave him a look. “What do you think?”

Ethan’s jaw clenched. “Next time, call me. I’d love to tell him personally where to shove it.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like he's giving up,” I muttered.

Mason sat on the edge of the workbench, crossing his arms. “That's not all.”

Ethan raised a brow.

Mason grabbed the key and held it up. “Recognize this?”

Ethan frowned, stepping closer. Then his brows pulled together.

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I found it in a lockbox a while back.”

Mason and I exchanged looks.

Ethan eyed us. “What?”

Mason’s voice was tight. “That key’s from Page Turners.”

Ethan’s frown deepened. “Is it?”

“Something in the basement,” I added.

Ethan turned the key over in his fingers. “Huh.”

“That's it?” Mason snapped. “You find a key to her place and just…huh?”

Ethan sighed. “I didn’t know where it was from. Figured it was something Pop left behind.” He looked between us. “You think this means something?”

Mason scoffed. “You don’t?”

Ethan rolled his shoulders, but his eyes were sharp.

Too much shit was happening at once. Too many weird connections.

We needed to clear our heads.

I clapped Ethan on the back. “Lucky’s?”

He exhaled. “Yeah. Let’s get a drink.”

Lucky's was already buzzing when we walked in. The smell of beer and fried food filled the air, country music twanging from the old jukebox.

The three of us headed straight for the bar, tension still thick between us.

Ethan ordered whiskey. Mason and I stuck to beer.

None of us spoke at first. We just sat there, letting the alcohol work through the frustration of the day.

It was Mason who finally broke the silence.

“We need to figure this shit out.”

Ethan let out a dry laugh. “Which part? The key? The shop? Hank? Or the fact that we’re all sleeping with the same woman?”

Mason and I both shot him a look.

“What?” He shrugged. “It's the elephant in the room.”

Mason swirled his beer, staring at the amber liquid. “So what do we do about it?”

Ethan exhaled. “Hell if I know.”

I leaned back, stretching my arms over the barstool. “We could fight about it.”

Ethan arched a brow. “You wanna take a swing?”

I huffed. “Not really.”

“Good.” He smirked. “You’d lose.”

Mason groaned. “Jesus, can we be serious for a second?”

I drummed my fingers against the wood. “Alright. You wanna be serious? Let’s be serious. What if we’re looking at this wrong?”

Mason frowned. “What do you mean?”

I took a long pull from my beer. “Lila and the guys.”

That got their attention. Ethan’s eyes narrowed.

“It works for them, doesn’t it?”

Mason made a face. “I thought about— It’s different.”

“Is it?” I challenged. “Lila loves them. They love her. They don’t fight over her like idiots. They figured it out. They even have a kid together.”

Ethan was quiet for a long moment, tracing the rim of his glass.

Mason exhaled. “You think Aurora would even want that?”

I thought of Aurora. Of how she looked at each of us.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I think we need to find out.”

Ethan took a long drink, then set his glass down with a thud. “And if she doesn’t? I mean, we have to remember, she has a life out of Medford that she wants to go back to.”

Mason shook his head. “I don’t think she does.”

Ethan’s brow furrowed. “What?”

Mason leaned forward, resting his forearms on the bar. “She told me she's not sure she even wants to go back.”

That got both of our attention.

I set my beer down. “She said that?”

Mason nodded. “She's feeling stuck. Torn between the life she built and,” He exhaled, shaking his head. “And something else. Maybe this place. Maybe us.”

Ethan swore under his breath, rubbing his jaw.

I processed that for a second.

Aurora, who’d shown up in Medford with a plan.

Aurora, who was supposed to be here for a few days, wrap things up and go back to her life in the city.

And now?

She wasn’t sure.

Ethan looked down at his whiskey, then let out a slow breath. “I didn’t expect that.”

Mason shrugged. “I don’t think she expected it, either.”

Ethan’s fingers tightened around his glass. “So what does that mean?”

Mason ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, man. But it means something.”

The three of us sat there, letting that settle.

Aurora wasn’t just some fling passing through town. She wasn’t a temporary distraction.

She was considering staying.

And maybe she was considering us.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Aurora

Lucky’s was packed. Laughter and the twang of music filled the air as Samantha, Morgan, and I pushed through the crowd toward the bar.

The place smelled like whiskey, fried food, and cheap cologne. Exactly what I expected from Medford’s favorite watering hole on a Friday night.

I adjusted my little black dress, suddenly feeling like I’d overdressed for the occasion.

Samantha had insisted on dragging me out for a “girls’ night,” and Morgan had backed her up, claiming I needed to stop being a “reclusive bookstore goblin.”

Their words, not mine.

I almost regretted letting them talk me into it. Until I walked through the door and saw them.

Ethan. Mason. Owen.

Sitting at the bar, drinks in hand, looking like trouble wrapped in flannel and denim.

My stomach flipped.

They hadn't seen me yet.

Mason leaned forward, elbows on the bar, talking to Owen, who was nursing a beer. Ethan sat back, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his whiskey glass. The weight of something heavy lingered between them.

Even when they weren’t speaking, they filled the room.

I swallowed hard. Why the hell did they have to be so…

“Earth to Aurora,” Samantha teased, bumping me with her hip. “You just completely spaced out.”

Morgan smirked. “Uh-huh. Let me guess. Has something to do with the very fine group of men at the bar?”

I cleared my throat. “I don’t know what you're talking about.”

Samantha rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. The three of them together? That's a problem.”

Morgan hummed in agreement. “A problem with a very nice solution, if you ask me.”

I shot her a look, my cheeks warming. “I didn’t ask.”

Samantha waggled her brows. “So, do we go over and say hi? Or do you want to pretend you haven’t been staring?”

“I haven’t been.”

Morgan snorted. “Babe. You so have.”

I groaned, scrubbing a hand over my face. “Can we just get drinks?”

Samantha smirked but led the way to the bar. Unfortunately, the only open space was right next to them.

Perfect.

I took a deep breath as we reached the counter.

Play it cool. Normal.

“Evening, sweetheart.”

Ethan’s voice sent a shiver down my spine.

I turned my head, meeting his gaze. His dark eyes glinted under the dim lights, a slow, knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

Beside him, Owen tipped his beer toward me in greeting. Mason just watched me, his expression unreadable.

I swallowed.

Yep. This was a mistake.

The bartender barely had time to slide a drink in front of me before the energy in the air shifted.

Maybe it was the booze working its way through their systems.

Maybe it was the way my dress hugged my curves a little too well.

Maybe it was the unresolved tension still simmering between us all.

But whatever it was, it crackled, hot and electric.

“You clean up nice, Aurora,” Owen said, eyes flicking down my body in a slow, appreciative sweep. “I like you in a dress.”

His voice was smooth, but something in it made my stomach tighten.

I lifted my drink to my lips, trying to ignore the way my pulse jumped. “Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Mason let out a low chuckle. “Not too bad? Damn, Owen. Guess you'll have to try harder.”

Owen smirked and took a sip of his beer. “Guess I will.”

Ethan leaned in slightly, his breath warm against my skin as he murmured, “We’re just lucky you decided to come out tonight.”

My body betrayed me with a shiver.

What the hell was going on? Was this some kind of competition?

If they all knew about what had happened with me and each of them, then…

Well, I had no idea what was going to happen next. But it seemed like it was on.

It was subtle at first—a few teasing comments, a well-placed touch here and there.

Mason, brushing his fingers over my wrist as he reached for his drink. Owen, letting his knee rest against mine under the bar. Ethan's low, rumbly voice in my ear, making it impossible to focus on anything else.

And then it wasn’t so subtle.

Mason, leaning in close, his lips just shy of brushing my jaw. “You keep looking at me like that, and I’m gonna start thinking you want something.”

Owen, dragging a finger along the rim of his glass, watching me like he was already planning his next move. “She's got that look, doesn’t she?”

Ethan, all heat and confidence, smirking as he took another slow sip of his drink. “Yeah. She does.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Because how the hell was I supposed to respond to this?

All of them flirting with me. And not quite as a competition, but more as a unit.

What the hell?

Morgan and Samantha, of course, were eating it up.

Samantha grinned, taking a sip of her margarita. “Damn, Aurora. This is better than reality TV.”

Morgan leaned in. “And the best part? You're the main character, babe.”

I shot them both a glare, but that only made them laugh.

Meanwhile, the guys didn’t seem to care that my friends were openly enjoying my predicament. If anything, they were getting bolder.

Mason leaned an elbow on the bar, his focus entirely on me. “So, babe, tell us…”

“You’ve gotta stop calling me that,” I cut in, gripping my drink like a lifeline.

His lips twitched. “Why?”

“Because,” I said, heat crawling up my neck. “It’s… It’s…”

“Hot?” Owen guessed.

I shot him a look. “No.”

Ethan smirked. “Adorable?”

I groaned. “Stop.”

Mason chuckled. “Oh, I don’t think she wants us to stop, boys.”

My stomach flipped.

I should have shut it down. I should have walked away, come up with some excuse to leave before I completely lost my mind.

But I didn’t. Because truthfully?

I liked it.

I liked the way they looked at me. The way their attention felt like a live wire under my skin.

The way they were practically competing for my focus, each one trying to outdo the others.

It was insane. It was overwhelming.

And it was intoxicating.

I was in trouble.

I should have said no.

I should have walked away while I still had the sense to.

But the drinks were flowing, my head was buzzing, and the weight of their attention had wrapped around me like a warm, lazy haze.

Somewhere between Mason’s teasing, Owen’s quiet intensity, and Ethan’s smooth confidence, I stopped thinking about what was right and started thinking about what I wanted.

So when Ethan leaned in, his voice thick with whiskey and something else I wasn’t ready to name, and said, “Come back to my place. Just for a little while,” I didn’t even hesitate.

Samantha shot me a look, her expression half giddy, half I told you so.

Morgan just grinned. “Go have fun, babe. We fully expect details.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t fight my smile as I let Ethan take my hand, guiding me through the bar. Mason and Owen flanked me, their warmth pressing close as we stepped out into the cool night air.

The short walk to Ethan’s house was a blur.

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the anticipation coiling low in my stomach.

Maybe it was just them.

But by the time we arrived at Ethan’s place, my mind was a scrambled mess.

The house was dark except for the porch light, casting long shadows over the gravel driveway.

I hesitated for a second, glancing between the three of them, my nerves catching up to me.

But then Ethan reached for me, his fingers brushing mine, grounding me.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Promise we don’t bite.”

Owen let out a low chuckle. “Unless you want us to.”

Mason just smirked. “Don’t scare her off, dumbass.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse pounding as I let them lead me inside.

The door shut behind us with a soft click, sealing us in.

And just like that, the night was nowhere close to over.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Aurora

The air inside Ethan’s house was heavy with anticipation.

My pulse thrummed in my ears as I stepped further inside, hyperaware of the three men closing in around me.

Mason was the first to touch me, just a ghost of his fingertips against my lower back, the warmth of his palm seeping through the thin fabric of my dress.

“Still nervous, babe?”

His voice was low, teasing, but there was something deeper beneath it. Something rough and unsteady, like he was barely keeping himself in check.

I turned slightly, my breath catching when I found Owen watching me, his gaze dark, unreadable.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

The slow, deliberate way he reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, sent a shiver down my spine.

Ethan was behind me, his presence a steady heat against my back.

“We can stop,” he murmured, his lips just shy of my skin, “if this is too much.”

We.

The way he said it told me he already knew the answer.

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “I don’t want to stop.”

Mason made a sound—half groan, half chuckle—before he stepped in front of me, closing the space between us.

“Good,” he said, tipping my chin up with two fingers. “Because neither do we.”

Then his lips were on mine.

Slow at first, teasing, like he was testing me.

But when I didn’t pull away—when I leaned in instead—he deepened it, his hand sliding down to grip my waist.

A second later, Owen was there, his fingers brushing along the sensitive skin of my throat, tracing a path lower, lower.

His lips found the shell of my ear, his warm breath sending a shiver straight through me.

“You sure about this, Aurora?”

My head was spinning, my body caught in the pull of them, their touches, their heat.

I turned just enough to meet Owen’s gaze, my heart pounding. “Yes.”

That was all it took.

Ethan’s hands were at my hips, tugging me back against him. Mason’s mouth moved to my jaw, then lower, his stubble rough against my skin.

Owen’s fingers toyed with the straps of my dress, his movements deliberate, waiting for my permission.

I exhaled shakily, tilting my head back, giving in to the moment, to them.

And then the teasing was over.

The tension snapped like a live wire.

Ethan dropped to his knees, his eyes dark with hunger as his hands slid up my thighs, parting them with ease.

A sharp, needy breath caught in my throat, my body already responding before I could think.

Owen’s hands tightened on my waist, pulling me back against the solid heat of his chest, his grip both possessive and patient.

Mason, ever the tease, trailed his fingertips along my collarbone, featherlight touches that sent a shiver rippling through me.

I barely had time to process the overwhelming sensation of their hands, their mouths, their heat before Ethan’s lips brushed against the inside of my knee, a whisper of warmth that made my stomach clench.

My fingers curled into fists at my sides, my legs trembling as he kissed higher, each slow, torturous press of his mouth making my pulse pound.

His breath was hot against my skin, his touch both reverent and insatiable, as if he wanted to savor every second of my undoing.

Then Ethan’s mouth was on me, and I shattered.

The first slow, teasing stroke of his tongue sent a sharp, electric jolt through me. I let out a desperate moan, my fingers tangling in his hair, urging him closer.

He groaned against me, the sound vibrating through my body, making my hips jerk in response. But his grip tightened, keeping me exactly where he wanted me.

Behind me, Owen’s hands explored, tracing the curve of my waist, skimming up to cup my breasts, his thumbs grazing over my already aching nipples.

His breath was molten against my ear.

“Relax, Aurora,” he murmured, voice thick with desire. “Let us take care of you.”

Mason dipped lower, his lips brushing along my stomach, his stubble rough against my skin. He took his time, dragging his mouth higher, teasing the swell of my breast before claiming it with a slow, lingering kiss.

“You're gorgeous like this,” he rasped, his voice dripping with hunger. “Writhing. Needy.”

I gasped as Ethan flicked his tongue just right, pleasure coiling tight in my belly, sharp and unbearable.

My thighs trembled, my breath coming in ragged gasps as heat pooled low, threatening to consume me.

“Ethan.”

My voice broke, my head falling back against Owen’s shoulder.

“You taste so fucking good,” Ethan groaned, his fingers digging into my thighs as he held me open.

Owen’s grip on me tightened, his mouth skimming the curve of my jaw before he whispered, low and knowing, “Look at you. Falling apart already.”

And I was. Completely.

Theirs.

Ethan wasn’t letting up, and I was unraveling, my body tightening, coiling, ready to snap.

But just when I thought I’d go over, he slowed, his tongue easing off, his grip loosening just enough to tease.

I whimpered, a desperate sound, my hips shifting instinctively, seeking more.

Mason chuckled, his hands sliding down my sides, grounding me even as he murmured, “Not so fast, babe. We’re not done with you yet.”

Before I could protest, Mason’s hands guided me down, steady and sure, until I was on my knees between his legs, his thick cock already hard in his grasp.

His eyes were dark with heat as he dragged the tip along my bottom lip, teasing me like he knew I was already aching for it.

“Open for me,” he commanded, his voice a low, sinful growl.

I obeyed, my tongue flicking out, tasting the salt of him before wrapping my lips around him and taking him deep.

Mason hissed, his head tipping back as his fingers tangled in my hair, guiding me with slow, deliberate motions. Behind me, Owen’s hands gripped my hips, his body pressing close, his heat branding me.

The head of his cock slid against my entrance, teasing, stretching, making me gasp around Mason.

Ethan was everywhere, his mouth tracing the length of my spine, his lips ghosting over my shoulder, his hands caressing wherever he could reach.

He whispered filth against my skin, words that sent heat curling low in my belly.

“You're so fucking beautiful like this,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. “Taking everything we give you. Hungry for more.”

Owen pressed in, slow and steady, filling me, his groan vibrating against my shoulder as he gave me every damn inch of him.

I moaned around Mason, the sound muffled, my body shuddering as pleasure overwhelmed me.

The stretch, the fullness, the overwhelming sensation of them surrounding me—it was too much and not enough all at once.

Owen’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into my hips as he pulled back and thrust forward again, harder this time, setting a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure crashing through me.

Mason’s jaw clenched, his hips shifting as he fucked into my mouth, his ragged breath telling me he was fighting to keep control.

“That's it, babe,” he groaned, his fingers tightening in my hair. “Just like that.”

Ethan’s lips trailed over my flushed skin, his hands stroking, teasing, worshiping as he murmured against my throat, “You're taking us so fucking well. Look at you. So perfect, so fucking sweet.”

Owen’s thrusts deepened, dragging me higher, pushing me closer to the edge. My body tightened, every nerve alight, overwhelmed and desperate and completely at their mercy.

I was lost in them.

Surrounded.

Consumed.

Owen’s pace turned punishing, his hands gripping my hips tight enough to leave bruises, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge.

Every inch of my body was alive, tingling, desperate.

Then, Smack.

A sharp slap landed on my ass, the sudden sting making me jolt. My moan vibrated around Mason’s cock.

“Fuck,” Owen growled, his hand smoothing over the spot he’d just struck, only to do it again.

Harder.

I gasped, the shock of it only adding to the unbearable pleasure already wracking my body.

“You like that, don’t you?” Mason murmured, his grip in my hair tightening just enough to make my scalp tingle. He thrust deeper, his voice rough with hunger. “Such a good girl for us.”

Another sharp smack.

My body clenched around Owen, and he groaned, his control fraying.

“She's close,” Ethan whispered against my skin, his hands still caressing me, grounding me even as Owen fucked me harder, chasing both of our highs. “Come for us, sweetheart. Let go.”

His fingers slid between my legs, finding my aching clit, rubbing tight, purposeful circles that sent me spiraling.

My body tensed, heat curling deep in my belly.

I fell.

Pleasure tore through me, so intense I cried out around Mason, my entire body trembling.

Owen groaned behind me, his thrusts turning erratic before he buried himself deep, spilling inside me with a low, desperate growl.

Mason pulled me off him, his chest heaving, his grip unrelenting as he guided me back onto the bed, flipping me onto my back.

His eyes were molten as he stroked himself, the head of his cock flushed, slick, needy.

“Finish me,” he demanded, voice rough.

Still dazed, I reached for him, my fingers curling around his thick length as I leaned in, licking a slow, teasing circle around the tip before taking him into my mouth once more.

Ethan’s hands were on me again, sliding over my sensitive skin, his lips and teeth marking my neck, my breasts. The curves of my body still trembled from release.

“That's it, gorgeous,” he whispered. “So fucking beautiful when you're like this.”

Mason’s hips snapped forward, his head tipping back as he groaned deep in his throat. “Fuck, Aurora.”

With a shudder, he came, his hands tangling in my hair as I swallowed every drop, savoring the way he trembled beneath my touch.

I barely had time to catch my breath before Ethan was pulling me onto his lap, his cock hard and ready, pressing against my slick folds.

His lips captured mine in a deep, desperate kiss before he murmured against my mouth, “My turn.”

And just like that, the fire started all over again.

It didn’t feel like tonight was going to end. And I sure as hell didn’t want it to.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Ethan

I woke up feeling different. Not just in my body—though damn, I still felt the echoes of last night—but in my head, my chest.

Like something had shifted, something big.

I stared at the ceiling, my mind replaying everything.

The way Aurora had looked at me. At Owen. At Mason.

Like she saw us, really saw us, and somehow, it had all made sense.

This had never happened before.

Not for me. Not for us.

But it wasn’t impossible, right?

Other people made this work. Maybe we could, too.

The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying.

I pushed the covers back and sat up before I could start overthinking it.

If I let myself analyze this too much, I’d talk myself in circles, and I didn’t need that right now.

What I did need was something simple. Something grounding.

Breakfast.

So I pulled on some jeans, grabbed my keys, and headed to Sweet Maple Bakery.

The second I walked in, the warm scent of cinnamon and fresh bread wrapped around me.

This place was comfort. The kind of thing that made you feel like everything was fine, even when your entire world was tilting on its axis.

And then I saw the sweet, caring owner—Harriet Cooper.

If Medford had an official news station, it would have been her. The woman knew everything before it even happened.

I wasn’t sure how she did it, but under that grandmotherly demeanor, she knew it all. Nothing happened in Medford without her being aware of it.

“Morning, Ethan,” she said, smiling. “You're up early.”

“Morning, Harriet.” I kept my voice even, casual. “Figured I’d grab breakfast for the shop. Some croissants and donuts, please.”

“Sweet of you.” She leaned in, her grin turning sly. “Heard it was real lively at Lucky’s last night.”

I kept my face blank, but my stomach tightened.

Shit.

“Yeah?” I said, reaching for my wallet. “It was a busy night.”

“Mmhmm.” I handed over my money for the order, but she didn’t look away. “It seems the new owner of Page Turners is causing quite a stir.”

The words landed like a stone in my gut.

I didn’t flinch, didn’t react. I just kept my movements slow and controlled as I grabbed the bag of pastries.

“I’m sure she was just enjoying all that Medford has to offer.”

Harriet hummed, unconvinced. “Well, you know how people like to talk. Rumors in Medford run wild.”

I gave her a tight smile, nodded, and headed for the door. But even as I stepped outside, I could still feel her eyes on me, my stomach a knot of unease.

I wasn’t ashamed of last night. Not even close.

But I knew how this town worked.

People loved to talk, and if Harriet was already sniffing around, it wouldn’t take long for the whole town to start whispering.

I didn’t think Aurora would be able to handle it.

We already didn’t know if she’d be sticking around, although we all had hope. But this. It might send her running.

By the time I pulled up to the house, the smell of fresh coffee and something frying drifted through the open kitchen window.

Normally, that would have been a good sign. A sign of normalcy.

But the second I stepped inside, I heard them talking—low, serious voices.

Owen, Mason, and Aurora.

And then I heard it.

Page Turners.

My stomach dropped. My blood ran cold.

I set the bakery bag down on the counter, my movements stiff. “What about it?”

They all turned to look at me.

Aurora perched on the edge of the couch, brows drawn together, hands wrapped around a coffee mug like she was holding onto it for dear life.

Owen leaned against the table with his arms crossed. Mason looked restless, like he had just gotten bad news and didn’t know where to put it.

Mason was the first to speak. “Aurora was telling us what she found in her uncle’s office. Old paperwork, some weird financial stuff. Bad business deals, maybe?”

My chest tightened. Shit.

I schooled my expression, but I already felt my brothers watching me closer.

They knew me too well. And now I knew exactly why this had been eating at me since she inherited the store.

Because I knew something they didn’t.

And I should have told them a long time ago.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet Aurora’s gaze. “What exactly did you find?”

She leaned forward, setting her coffee down. Exhaling slowly, she ran a hand through her hair.

“A bunch of old paperwork, contracts, loan agreements, letters. Some of it doesn’t make sense, but I keep seeing different names on a few documents. Including Grady, actually. And then there's the key.” She reached for the small metal object sitting on the table. “The one we found at the shop.”

I stared at it, my stomach twisting. That damn key.

It was the reason everything suddenly felt too close, too tangled.

Owen folded his arms.

“Ethan.” His tone was sharp. “You know something.”

I swallowed, my throat dry.

I’d never wanted to keep secrets from my brothers. But this?

This was old, buried history.

I didn’t think it mattered anymore.

But now, looking at Aurora, at the worry in her eyes, the way Mason was already bracing himself for whatever was coming. I knew I had to say it.

I exhaled sharply. “Years ago, our grandfather and Aurora’s uncle had a business deal. Something went wrong. Terribly wrong. It caused a falling out.”

Aurora straightened. “What kind of deal?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know the details. Just that they were close once. Friends, business partners, or something like it. But after things fell apart, they stopped speaking.”

Mason ran a hand down his face. “Why the hell didn’t you say anything before?”

“Because I didn’t think it was relevant,” I admitted. “Not until that key showed up at our shop.”

I looked at Aurora again.

“That key. It belonged to your uncle. If it was in our garage, that means he was there at some point before he died. And I don’t know why.”

Silence stretched between us.

Owen’s jaw was tight. “You think there’s more to this?”

“I think,” I paused, choosing my words carefully. “I think there were other people involved. People we don’t know about yet.”

Aurora’s fingers curled around the key. “And if we find out who?”

I met her gaze, steady and sure. “Then we find out the truth.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Aurora

I needed air. This was too much.

I stood from the couch, my pulse thudding in my ears. The room felt smaller than it had a moment ago, like the walls were closing in.

I barely knew my uncle. I had no idea he’d had a falling out with the Grady family.

And now, somehow, I was right in the middle of whatever mess he’d left behind.

Why did he do this to me?

The key sat cold and heavy in my palm, but my mind was still tangled up in everything else. Last night, the way I felt, the way they felt.

Ethan. Owen. Mason.

I’d never imagined something like this was possible.

But last night had been perfect. Terrifyingly perfect.

And now, in the harsh light of morning, I didn’t know what to do with any of it.

I needed space.

I set the key down carefully on the coffee table. “I should go back to the inn.” My voice was steadier than I felt. “I need a little time to clear my head.”

Owen straightened from where he was leaning against the table. “I'll drive you.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes told me there was no point. Stubborn as ever.

Ethan’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t argue. Mason just rubbed at his neck like he was working through his own frustration.

I grabbed my bag and followed Owen outside, the cool morning air hitting me like a reset button.

I climbed into the truck, staring out the window as we pulled onto the road. Silence stretched between us.

Owen was the first to break it. “Are you okay?”

I turned toward him, my fingers twisting in my lap. “I don’t know.”

“I get it.” His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

I let out a breath. “Do you?”

His eyes flicked toward me before returning to the road.

“Yeah.” He was quiet for a beat. “Last night was different. I don’t think any of us expected it, but it was real.”

Something in my chest clenched. “That's what scares me.”

Owen nodded, like he understood. Maybe he did.

The Medford Inn came into view, its old brick exterior solid and familiar. He pulled into the parking lot, putting the truck in park but making no move to shut it off.

When I reached for the door handle, he caught my wrist, his touch firm but gentle. “Aurora.”

I turned to face him, my pulse skipping.

“You don’t have to figure it all out right now,” he said. “But don’t shut us out.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “I’m not.”

He held my gaze like he was trying to read between the lines.

Then, slowly, he let go.

I stepped out of the truck, closing the door softly behind me.

As I walked toward the entrance, I felt his eyes on me. And I knew, no matter how much space I thought I needed, this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

I sighed, flopping back onto the bed in my room at the Medford Inn.

The ceiling fan spun in lazy circles above me, and for the past hour, I’d done nothing but stare at it, trying to untangle my thoughts.

Last night had been incredible.

The kind of thing I didn’t even know I wanted until it happened. The kind of thing that left my body humming and my mind reeling.

And now?

Now I was a mess.

Part of me was exhilarated—because it had felt right—but another part was insecure, anxious.

I’d never done anything like this before. What if I couldn’t handle it?

What if I ended up getting in too deep and ruining everything? What would happen when I left Medford behind and went back to my real life?

If?

I groaned and pressed the heels of my palms to my eyes. I needed a distraction before I drove myself completely crazy.

Which was why, twenty minutes later, I was knocking on Lila’s door.

Thank God I had someone I could call a friend here. That was such a novelty to me.

I knocked twice, shifting on my heels, but before I could knock a third time, the door swung open.

And instead of Lila, I was met with a pair of amused blue eyes and a slow, easy smirk.

Jaxon. Tall, broad-shouldered, and way too charming for his own good.

“Well, well,” he drawled, leaning lazily against the doorframe. “Look who we have here. Medford’s newest heartbreaker.”

I groaned, my shoulders slumping. “Please tell me people aren’t calling me that.”

He chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest. “Not yet, but give it a day. This town loves a good scandal.”

I rolled my eyes, though a tiny smile tugged at my lips despite myself. “Is Lila here?”

He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Mmm. Maybe. Maybe not.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Jaxon.”

He grinned. “Relax. She's in the back somewhere. But lucky you, now you get the grand tour.”

Before I could protest, he stepped aside, waving me in.

I hesitated for only a second before moving past him, and as soon as I did, my jaw nearly dropped.

The house was massive.

From the outside, Lila’s place looked like your standard, charming Medford home, but inside? It was all high ceilings, polished wood floors, and big, airy windows that let in the late afternoon light.

The whole space had a warm, lived-in feel, but with just enough elegance to make me think this house had a history.

Jaxon shut the door behind me, his voice full of teasing amusement. “What's the verdict?”

I shook my head, still taking it all in. “I thought I was just coming to see Lila, not stepping into some grand estate.”

He laughed, leading me through the hallway. “Yeah, we bought this place for Lila, because you know our girl deserves it.”

So sweet. His kindness actually made my heart hurt.

The men in Medford were definitely different from the commitment-phobe ghosters in the city.

I smirked. “You're all good to her.”

He led me through a sprawling living room, past an old brick fireplace that took up nearly an entire wall.

I spotted a well-worn leather couch, stacks of books piled high on a coffee table, and a guitar propped in the corner.

“Here’s the living room,” he said, gesturing around. “Where Lila forces me to watch her favorite rom-coms and pretend I don’t like them.”

I raised a brow. “Oh, so you do like them.”

Jaxon put a hand over his heart. “That's slander, Aurora.”

I laughed as we continued through the house, Jaxon pointing out random things with dramatic flair.

“The kitchen, where Lila burns toast.”

“The library, where I pretend to be sophisticated.”

“The dining room, where absolutely no one dines.”

I couldn’t stop smiling.

Jaxon was effortless, easygoing, and funny in a way that made me feel lighter, less tangled up in my own thoughts.

I could see why Lila had fallen for him. For all of them, actually.

By the time we reached a hallway at the back of the house, I was almost sad the tour was over.

Jaxon stopped in front of a partially open door, then turned to me, lowering his voice like he was sharing a deep secret.

“This,” he whispered, “is where the magic happens.”

I blinked. “What…”

Before I could finish, he pushed the door open.

And there was Lila, standing in front of a massive vanity mirror, curling her hair. A satisfied smile stretched across her lips when she saw me.

“Aurora!” she exclaimed, setting the curling iron down. “You're here!”

Jaxon leaned against the doorframe, smirking. “I had to take her on a tour before bringing her to you.”

Lila rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you did.”

Jaxon winked at me. “I'll leave you ladies to it.”

With that, he pushed off the frame and strolled away, disappearing down the hall.

I exhaled, shaking my head as I turned back to Lila.

“He's a lot,” I said, my lips twitching.

Lila laughed. “Oh, Aurora. You have no idea. So, what's going on?”

Her gaze was steady, patient, the way only a good friend's could be.

It was almost unsettling how easy she made it seem, like I could just say the things I was thinking without worrying about how they sounded.

I chewed my bottom lip. “It’s complicated.”

Lila smirked. “Oh, honey. That much I already guessed.” She grabbed a stool and patted the seat next to her vanity. “Sit. Spill. Whatever it is, you'll feel better once you say it out loud.”

I let out a breath and sank onto the stool, twisting my hands together.

She watched me in the mirror, waiting.

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

Opened it again.

And then, before I could second-guess myself, I blurted out, “I spent the night with the Grady brothers.”

Lila froze mid-reach for her hairbrush. Slowly, she turned to face me, eyes wide, lips parted.

I groaned, covering my face. “Oh my God. Say something.”

Her silence stretched for another few seconds before she finally breathed, “Holy shit.”

I peeked at her between my fingers. “Not helping.”

Lila blinked, like she was still processing.

Then, suddenly, a huge grin spread across her face. “Aurora. Oh my God.”

I groaned again, dropping my hands. “I know.”

She practically vibrated with excitement. “Okay, first of all, all three of them?”

Cheeks burning, I nodded.

Lila let out a delighted squeal. “Girl, you have got to start leading with this kind of information!”

I buried my face in my hands again, but this time I was laughing. “You're ridiculous.”

“Spill the beans. You have to.”

I sighed, shaking my head, but I knew she wasn’t going to let this go. So I told her about Lucky’s, the way the air between me and the Grady brothers had practically crackled all night, the way one thing had led to another until I’d found myself tangled up with all of them.

The way it had felt right. Too right.

And the way, now that I had space from it, I was completely freaking out.

Lila listened intently, her expression shifting from excitement to understanding as I finished.

When I finally stopped talking, she nodded, like she’d already made up her mind. “Okay. First of all, that sounds incredible. Second of all, why the hell are you freaking out?”

“Because I don’t do things like this.”

She threw her hands up. “Nor did I. Now look at me. It’s a great life, and surprisingly, Medford is a great place to have this kind of fun before you leave.”

If I leave.

I still couldn’t say that bit out loud.

“You need to have some fun with me.” Lila’s eyes lit up. “The Starry Night Theater is doing a movie night tonight. Classic Hollywood theme. You have to come. It'll be a great distraction.”

I hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“You do know,” she corrected, pointing a finger at me. “You need to get out of your head for a bit. Plus, it'll be fun! People dress up, there’s popcorn, fancy cocktails. It'll be so much fun.”

“Uh. Maybe.”

But before I could fully agree, she grabbed my hands, her eyes gleaming. “Ooooh, wait. You know what this calls for?”

I narrowed my eyes. “What?”

“A makeover.” She was already hopping up.

I groaned. “That is not necessary.”

She shot me a please look. “Are you kidding me? Aurora, this is your moment! You're going through a transformation! New town, new experiences, new romances.”

I gave her a look. “That's debatable.”

She waved me off. “Point is, you need to embrace it. And that starts with looking hot as hell tonight.”

I sighed but couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped. “Fine. Do your worst.”

Lila clapped her hands. “You will not regret this.”

A few hours later, I was staring at my reflection in stunned silence.

Lila had outdone herself.

Gone was the slightly frazzled, overthinking woman who had walked in earlier.

In her place was someone breathtaking.

My hair, which I usually just let fall in soft waves, had been styled into a cascade of glossy, old Hollywood curls, each strand perfectly framing my face.

It felt luxurious, elegant—like I belonged on the silver screen.

And my makeup. Holy cow, the makeup.

Lila had given me a flawless, velvety complexion, subtly sculpting my cheekbones and dusting a soft shimmer onto my skin.

My eyes, normally just there, now looked huge, framed by bold black liner that flicked out into a sharp, graceful wing. A soft wash of gold shimmer on my lids caught the light just right, making my green eyes gleam.

And then there were my lips, painted the perfect shade of red. A red that made me feel powerful, confident, like I could walk into any room and turn heads.

But the dress—that was the real showstopper. It was deep navy, almost black, and hugged my curves in all the right ways.

The neckline was sweetheart cut, exposing just enough collarbone and décolletage to make me feel a little daring, a little bold. The fabric was soft, smooth against my skin, and when I moved, the skirt flared in a way that felt playful, elegant, like I belonged in a dance sequence from an old movie.

I turned slightly, the light catching the shimmer of the dress’s subtle embellishments.

It was classic and timeless, but with just the right amount of wow.

I felt beautiful.

Not just pretty. Not just presentable.

Beautiful.

Lila stood behind me in the mirror, hands on her hips, grinning like she had just performed magic.

“Well?” she prompted.

I swallowed, my heart thudding. “I don’t even look like me.”

She met my eyes in the reflection, her expression softening. “Oh, but you do. Just the you that finally realizes how drop-dead stunning she is.”

I bit my lip, staring at myself. I did look stunning. It wasn’t just the makeup or the dress. It was something deeper.

I felt lovely. Strong.

Like I could handle whatever came next.

“Okay,” I said, meeting Lila’s eyes. “I guess to the theater it is.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Mason

The movie was playing. I knew that much.

Something black and white flickered across the screen, the sound of old-timey music and hushed dialogue filling the outdoor theater.

The crowd was settled into lawn chairs and picnic blankets, tucked under string lights that stretched across the grassy lot. It was the perfect night for a movie under the stars.

But I couldn’t watch it. I couldn’t take my damn eyes off her.

Aurora sat a few feet away, perched on a blanket next to Lila, looking like something straight out of a dream.

That dress—midnight blue, soft, silky—hugged her curves in a way that made my blood run hot.

The way it draped over her legs, teasing just enough skin through the slit.

Shit.

I had to clench my fists against my thighs to keep from reaching for her.

But it wasn’t just the dress. It was the way she carried herself tonight.

She looked confident. Stunning.

Like she finally saw herself the way we saw her.

And I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. I caught more than one guy glancing her way, some subtle, some not.

It made something sharp twist in my gut.

I wasn’t usually the jealous type, but tonight? I wanted to stake my damn claim.

Aurora laughed at something Lila whispered to her, her lips curling into a soft, amused smile.

And fuck, I felt it—low in my stomach, deep in my chest.

The worst part?

I knew Owen and Ethan felt it too.

Owen sat next to her, his arm stretched out beside her like it was nothing.

But I knew that look in his eyes, like he was barely holding himself back.

And Ethan?

He was leaning against a tree behind us, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes glued to Aurora like he was trying to figure out what the hell to do with all the feelings bottled up inside him.

Join the club, man.

Lila suddenly stood, stretching. “I’m gonna grab some more popcorn. Aurora, wanna come?”

Aurora hesitated, her fingers curling in the hem of her dress. “Oh, um…”

Before she could finish, Colt appeared out of nowhere, flashing his easygoing grin.

“I got it, ladies. Stay put, enjoy the show.”

Lila smirked. “You just want an excuse to flirt with the popcorn girl.”

Colt pressed a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “You wound me.”

Then, with a wink, he disappeared toward the snack stand.

Lila sat back down, nudging Aurora. “See? There are some benefits to multiple Medford men!”

Aurora smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

God, she was beautiful.

And then, as if she could feel me looking, her gaze flickered toward me.

My breath stalled.

For a second, everything else faded. The murmuring crowd, the movie, the world. It was just us.

And then she quickly looked away, shifting like she was nervous.

Like she didn’t know what to do with the pull between us.

I sure as hell didn’t.

Owen suddenly shifted next to her, his voice low. “You cold?”

Aurora blinked, glancing down at her arms like she only now realized she’d been rubbing them. “A little.”

Before I could even think, I was shrugging off my jacket and leaning over, draping it around her shoulders before Owen could make a move.

Aurora looked up at me, eyes wide. “Mason.”

I swallowed hard, holding her gaze. “Can’t have you freezing out here.”

She hesitated, then slowly pulled it tighter around herself.

It was too big on her, swallowing her frame, but seeing her in my jacket did something to me. Something primal, possessive.

Ethan exhaled sharply from behind me. Owen just smirked, shaking his head.

But Aurora.

Aurora dropped her gaze to the blanket, her fingers curling into the worn leather of my jacket, like she was trying to ground herself.

Yeah. I knew the feeling.

This thing between us?

It was getting dangerous.

The movie faded into the background as the buzz of conversation grew louder around us.

The faint scent of popcorn, a mix of warm vanilla and butter, drifted on the evening air, but none of it could pull my attention away from Aurora.

The closer we got to the end of the film, the more restless I felt.

I couldn’t focus on anything.

My mind kept circling back to her, her smile, the way she looked in my jacket. Hell, just the way she breathed.

Ethan, Owen, and I were all on edge, all of us trying to play it cool, but it was impossible. I could feel the tension in the air like static, and I knew they felt it too.

The three of us might as well have been sitting in a pressure cooker.

As the last credits rolled across the screen, people started to gather their things, but no one was in a rush to leave.

There was something magnetic in the air, the hum of energy that kept us all rooted.

The night was still too young, and everyone was hanging on to the last few moments of the evening.

I looked over at Aurora. She was standing now, folding her blanket.

“Hey, you headed out for a drink?” I asked, the words tumbling out before I could second-guess myself.

She turned to face me, the soft glow of the string lights catching her eyes.

“I don’t know.” she said, biting her lip as though she was weighing her options.

There was a pause, the briefest moment where the silence stretched between us. It was a quiet invitation, unspoken, but clear.

She was hesitating, not sure if it was the right move, but I saw the uncertainty in her eyes.

Before she could respond, I added, “You can always come for a drink at my place. It isn’t far.”

Ethan, who had been hanging back, spoke up suddenly, his voice rough. “Yeah, I could go for a drink.”

Aurora shot him a quick glance, then Owen too.

“Come on,” I said, my voice softer now, just for her. “Let’s get out of here. Get some fresh air, maybe unwind a little. It'll be good.”

She hesitated, glancing at the others, but then she took a deep breath and nodded.

“Alright,” she said, her voice low, but there was a spark in her eyes, a flicker of something that had my heart racing.

I turned to Owen and Ethan. “You guys coming?”

Ethan shot me a glance, eyes sharp. “Yeah, sure.”

Owen just nodded, standing slowly, like he’d been waiting for the moment all evening long.

We walked toward my car in silence, but it wasn’t a comfortable kind of silence.

Aurora walked a little ahead, heels clicking against the pavement, but it didn’t escape me that she wasn’t in a rush to get to the car.

She was taking her time. And I was letting her.

When we reached the vehicle, I opened the passenger side door for her, the motion slow, deliberate.

Aurora looked up at me for a moment, those eyes of hers searching mine, a flicker of uncertainty before she climbed into the seat.

Ethan slid in behind her with Owen following shortly after, all of us taking our positions in a carefully calculated dance.

The drive to my place was short, the familiar streets of Medford winding past us as the music on the radio played quietly, nothing more than a backdrop to the thoughts swirling in my head.

The air was heavy.

My grip on the wheel was tighter than usual, my mind racing with what was coming next.

Aurora was so close now.

We might have been in this position before, but at the time, none of us knew what was going to happen and how it was going to feel.

We did now. And that made things so much more intense.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Aurora

The drive to Mason’s felt like it lasted an eternity, but not in a bad way.

It was more like time had stretched, and each moment, each breath, felt like it was filled with endless possibilities.

The air was thick with tension, and I could barely keep my focus on anything but the feeling of his jacket around my shoulders, the weight of it, the warmth of it.

It was like a silent declaration of sorts, and my heart had been racing ever since.

When we finally pulled up to his home, the headlights cutting through the night, I barely had time to unbuckle my seatbelt before Mason was out of the car.

He rounded the front with long, determined strides, yanking my door open and reaching for me before I could think.

I gasped as he lifted me out, pressing me against the side of the vehicle, his body flush against mine.

His hands found my hips, gripping tight, his knee nudging between my legs.

“Last chance, babe,” he murmured, his lips just inches from mine. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

I exhaled a shaky breath, my fingers curling into his shirt. “Don’t you dare.”

A slow, wicked smile stretched across his lips before he crushed his mouth to mine.

Everything was heat, breath, and reckless urgency as he kissed me—deep, consuming, as if he was staking his claim right then and there.

His hands roamed, possessive and unrelenting, and I melted into him, my body already attuned to every rough, teasing stroke of his fingers.

The door to his house swung open before we even reached it, and I barely registered Owen and Ethan following us inside, their eyes dark with intent.

The moment we stepped inside, the air changed.

Thick.

Charged.

Mason’s hands never left me as he kicked the door shut behind us. His grip was firm, his body pressed against mine like he couldn’t bear a single inch of space between us.

Owen and Ethan lingered close, their eyes trailing over me with a hunger that sent a shiver down my spine.

My heart pounded, my breath coming in quick, uneven gasps as I took them all in—the raw intensity in their gazes, the way they surrounded me, like they were waiting for the right moment to devour me whole again.

Mason’s fingers traced the edges of my gown, his touch reverent.

“Look at you,” he murmured, dragging his knuckles along the bare skin of my shoulder. “Fucking stunning.”

I trembled as Owen stepped in behind me, his heat seeping into my back.

His lips brushed the shell of my ear, his voice low and velvety. “You deserve to be worshipped, Aurora.”

Ethan’s gaze roamed down my body, slow and measured. His jaw ticked, and then he reached for me, cupping my face, his thumb sweeping over my bottom lip.

“Let us worship you, sweetheart.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse a rapid, erratic beat beneath my skin.

I couldn’t speak, could barely breathe, so I just nodded.

Mason was the first to move, his hands finding the delicate straps of my gown. He slid them down, the fabric slipping lower, exposing the soft swell of my breasts.

Owen’s hands were next, trailing down my arms, his fingers featherlight as he helped Mason guide the gown lower.

Ethan let out a sharp breath, his hands bracing on my hips, steadying me as the silk pooled at my feet, leaving me bare before them.

Three sets of eyes drank me in.

Mason traced a slow line down my stomach, his touch making me shudder. “So goddamn perfect.”

Owen’s fingers found my wrist, lifting my hand so he could press a kiss against my palm. His voice was a rough whisper. “You are something else, Aurora.”

Ethan reached out, knuckles dragging over my flushed skin. “I have never seen you as beautiful as you are right now.”

Heat licked up my spine, my knees threatening to give beneath the weight of their attention.

Mason deepened the kiss, his grip tightening just enough to make my pulse flutter wildly. When he pulled back, his eyes were dark, filled with something dangerous and thrilling all at once.

“Upstairs,” Ethan commanded, his voice rough with need.

I nodded, breathless, my body already surrendering to them.

Owen scooped me up effortlessly, carrying me up the stairs with an urgency that made my head spin. By the time we reached the bedroom, my pulse was thrumming, my body humming with anticipation.

Mason was the first to move.

He reached into a drawer, pulling out something long and smooth. Deep red silk ties that shimmered under the dim light.

My breath hitched.

Ethan smirked as he took them from Mason’s hands, running the fabric through his fingers before meeting my gaze.

“You up for trying something new?”

A tremor ran through me, not from fear, but from the sheer thrill of surrendering to them.

I trusted them. And, God, I wanted this.

“Yes.”

Ethan guided me onto the bed, his hands strong but patient. “Hands above your head, baby.”

I obeyed, heart racing as he wrapped the silk around my wrists, securing them to the headboard.

The fabric was soft, teasing against my skin, but the restraint sent a delicious thrill through me.

My fingers flexed instinctively, testing, but there was no give. The silk ties held firm.

Mason smirked, watching the way I pulled against them. “Nowhere to run now.”

Heat flushed through me.

I wasn’t running. I wasn’t even sure I remembered how to breathe.

Owen trailed his fingers up my thigh, a slow, deliberate glide that made my skin prickle with anticipation.

“You look so fucking good like this.” His voice was a low rumble, thick with possession.

Ethan leaned in, his mouth grazing the shell of my ear, his breath hot and teasing. “Completely at our mercy.”

A shudder ran through me.

“That's what you want, isn’t it?” Mason murmured, fingers trailing along my collarbone, barely a touch, just enough to make me crave more.

My breath hitched, my hips shifting involuntarily.

Ethan chuckled, dark and knowing. “We'll take that as a yes.”

The bed dipped as Mason straddled my waist, his weight pressing me deeper into the mattress.

His hands skimmed up my arms, tracing the silk ties, testing the restraint just as I had.

“Perfect,” he murmured, eyes dark as he looked down at me. “Completely ours.”

Owen’s hands ghosted over my stomach, slow, measured, as if savoring every inch.

“The fun part,” he said, voice like velvet, “is that you can’t stop us from taking our time.”

Ethan chuckled low. “And we plan to take all fucking night.”

I whimpered, arching instinctively, but Mason tsked, one firm hand pressing against my stomach to keep me still.

“Patience, babe.” His smirk was pure wickedness. “We'll decide when you get what you want.”

Owen’s fingers brushed lower, teasing, never giving me enough.

Ethan’s mouth followed, pressing open-mouthed kisses down my neck, his teeth scraping just enough to make me gasp.

And Mason. Mason tugged gently, just enough to remind me who was in control, and a slow, satisfied smirk curled his lips.

“You look so fucking perfect like this,” he murmured, his voice rough, thick with hunger.

His fingers trailed down my arm, over my collarbone, and lower, teasing over the swell of my breasts, barely grazing my skin.

Owen leaned in, his mouth following the same path as Mason’s fingers, but his tongue darted out, hot and wet, as he flicked it over my sensitive peak.

I gasped, my back arching involuntarily, but the silk held me in place, leaving me at their mercy.

Ethan wasn’t far behind, his hands gripping my thighs, spreading me wider. His touch was firm, commanding.

“Look at you,” he rasped, his breath skating over my heated skin. “Already trembling, and we’ve barely started.”

This really was new.

Being tied up. Being teased like this.

I could hardly stand it.

But at the same time, I loved it.

Mason slid lower, his mouth finding my other breast, his tongue swirling, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through me.

Owen’s hands gripped my hips. He held me down as Ethan’s fingers trailed further, brushing over my aching center, featherlight, teasing.

I whimpered, my body tightening, every nerve ending firing at once. “Please.”

Mason lifted his head, eyes dark and dangerous. “Please what, babe?”

Ethan pressed a kiss to the inside of my thigh. “Tell us exactly what you want.”

I pulled against the ties, my hips lifting instinctively, desperate for more.

Owen chuckled, a deep, knowing sound, as he ran a single finger through my slick heat.

“Oh, she's so fucking ready for us,” he groaned. “Dripping.”

Mason’s fingers replaced Owen’s, sliding over me with slow, deliberate strokes.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, voice a low growl.

He circled my clit, teasing, keeping me right on the edge without giving me what I needed.

“Yes,” I gasped, my body twisting beneath them, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. “God, yes.”

Mason’s fingers pressed into my thighs, holding me open as his mouth descended.

The first stroke of his tongue shattered me.

I cried out, my head tipping back, pleasure spearing through me as he worked me with slow, devastating precision.

Ethan teased my nipple, tugging it slightly, combining pain with the pleasure threatening to crest.

Owen nibbled my earlobe, whispering filth into my ear, while Mason hummed against me, the vibration sending another pulse of pleasure spiraling through my body.

My thighs trembled, my breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps.

Owen reached for my chin, forcing my gaze to his.

“Keep your eyes on me when you fall apart,” he commanded, his voice rough with need.

I couldn’t hold back.

The pleasure erupted, white hot and all consuming, and I shattered, my body tightening, shaking, the silk ties biting into my wrists as I writhed beneath their hands, their mouths.

Owen groaned, his grip tightening, his own restraint fraying at the edges. “Fuck, that was beautiful.”

Mason pulled back, his lips glistening, his eyes dark with hunger.

“I need to be inside you, sweetheart,” he growled as he crashed up to greet me once more. “Fuck, you feel incredible.”

The stretch was exquisite, my body molding to his perfectly.

Ethan’s hands trailed down my spine, firm and possessive, his breath hot against my skin as he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss on the exposed skin of my throat.

“You look so damn beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Completely wrecked. And we’re just getting started.”

My breath came in ragged gasps as Owen’s fingers trailed lower, teasing between my legs where I was already stretched around Mason.

He groaned as he felt the way I clenched, his fingers slick as he circled my sensitive bundle of nerves with slow, torturous strokes.

Mason’s grip on my waist tightened, his muscles coiling as he thrust into me, each movement sending shivers of pleasure through my already trembling body.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his voice raw, desperate.

Owen’s hands were on my thighs, spreading me wider, his lips brushing against my neck as he whispered, “I want to feel you come around him, baby.”

My body clenched in response, the pleasure spiraling higher, the heat of all three of them surrounding me, consuming me.

Mason’s thrusts grew erratic, his breathing ragged, his jaw tight with restraint. “Fuck, I’m close.”

His hands gripped my hips, his fingers digging into my skin as he held me in place, driving deeper, harder, until the pleasure became unbearable.

A sharp cry tore from my lips as the pleasure hit me like a tidal wave, my body tightening, trembling, as I shattered around Mason.

The force of it sent him over the edge again, a guttural groan ripping from his throat as he thrust deep, his body jerking beneath mine as he found his own release.

His head tipped back, his grip on me unrelenting as he spilled inside me, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps.

It was phenomenal.

But I wasn’t done yet.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Aurora

I barely had time to catch my breath before I was moving, slipping out of the now-looser silk ties, my body still thrumming, sensitive, and needy.

Dropping to my knees before Owen, I let my hands glide up his thighs, nails scraping lightly over his skin as I looked up at him through my lashes.

His gaze burned into me, dark and fevered. “Fuck, baby.”

I took my time with his belt, undoing it slowly, deliberately, feeling his breath hitch as I tugged it free and unzipped his jeans.

When I pushed them down, his cock sprang free. Thick, hard, already leaking for me. I licked my lips, the sight of him sending a fresh wave of heat through my core.

Owen groaned low in his throat, his fingers threading into my hair as I wrapped my hand around him, stroking him with teasing, featherlight touches.

Behind me, Mason and Ethan watched, their breathing heavy, their bodies tense with hunger.

“You want to watch, don’t you?” I whispered, my lips grazing Owen’s tip, tasting the salt of his arousal. “You want to see me wreck him.”

A rough curse left Owen’s lips as I took him into my mouth, inch by inch, my tongue swirling, teasing, drawing a sharp inhale from deep in his chest.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasped, his grip tightening in my hair.

I set a slow, torturous rhythm, sucking him deep, then pulling back just enough to let my tongue flick over the sensitive ridge.

His hips flexed, his restraint fraying, his muscles coiled like a predator about to strike. His jaw tightened as I worked him deeper, his fingers tangling in my hair, a low growl slipping from his lips.

His muscles tensed, his restraint hanging by a thread as I hollowed my cheeks, taking him further until I felt him hit the back of my throat.

A sharp hiss escaped him, his hand tightening just enough to make my scalp tingle.

“Fuck, Aurora,” he groaned, his head tipping back for just a second before he snapped his gaze back down to me. “You drive me crazy.”

Behind me, Mason and Ethan stirred, their heated gazes burning into my skin as they watched. The air was thick, charged, the hunger between us a living, breathing thing.

Ethan’s fingers traced down my spine, featherlight, teasing.

“She looks so fucking good like this, doesn’t she?”

His voice was low, dark, meant to tempt and tease.

Mason hummed in agreement, his fingers brushing over my shoulders, his touch possessive. “She was made for this.”

I moaned around Owen, the vibrations drawing a sharp curse from his lips. His hips jerked involuntarily, his breath coming fast and uneven.

“Shit, Aurora,” he growled, his fingers tightening, his control slipping. “You keep that up, and I won’t last.”

But I wasn’t done playing.

I pulled back agonizingly slowly, my tongue teasing along the underside of his length, my lips barely grazing as I stroked him with my hand.

My gaze locked with his, watching the way his dark eyes burned with something raw, unrestrained.

Ethan chuckled, his fingers slipping lower, grazing my inner thigh. “I think you like having us at your mercy, sweetheart.”

Mason’s hand slid around my throat, not squeezing, just resting there, feeling the rapid pulse beneath his palm.

“That right, babe?” he murmured, his thumb stroking over my skin. “You like having us at your mercy?”

I smirked, my lips ghosting over Owen’s tip as I whispered, “I love it.”

Owen let out a rough sound, his patience snapping as he gripped my jaw, tilting my head back just enough to force my gaze up to his.

His pupils were blown wide, his expression dark and dangerously enticing.

“Then let’s see how much you love being ruined,” he rasped.

Before I could take another breath, he took control, thrusting into my waiting mouth, deep and unrelenting.

My hands gripped his thighs for balance, my body surrendering to him completely.

The room spun with heat, pleasure, and raw desire.

Behind me, Ethan and Mason didn’t wait.

Mason’s fingers skimmed lower, teasing between my legs, spreading me open as Ethan knelt behind me, his breath hot against my bare skin.

“You're dripping,” Mason groaned, his fingers sliding through my slick heat, spreading me open wider. “So fucking desperate for us.”

I whimpered around Owen, the combined sensations making my body tremble.

Ethan’s lips found the curve of my ass. “We’re not done with you yet, sweetheart.”

His hands skimmed over my hips, slow and deliberate, his grip firm as he pulled me back against him. His breath ghosted over my heated skin, teasing, his lips trailing a wicked path down my spine.

“God, I love seeing you like this,” he murmured, his voice thick with hunger. “You're wild.”

Behind me, Mason’s fingers worked me open, his touch unrelenting, precise, pushing me closer to the edge with every teasing stroke.

But it was Ethan who stole my breath as he knelt behind me, his fingers digging into my flesh as he took his time savoring the sight of me.

Owen groaned above me, his grip in my hair tightening as he thrust deep, his movements erratic, desperate. “Shit, she's so fucking good at this.”

I moaned around him, the vibration drawing a sharp inhale from his lips, but I barely had time to process it before Ethan made his move.

The first stroke of his tongue sent a shudder ripping through me.

A cry tore from my throat, muffled by Owen’s thick length, as Ethan worked me with slow, devastating precision, his tongue flicking, teasing, pushing me closer and closer to the edge once more.

His grip tightened on my hips, holding me still as he licked into me, his mouth relentless.

Mason chuckled low, his fingers still stroking, adding to the overwhelming pleasure.

I whimpered, my body shaking, my knees threatening to give out beneath the weight of their touch.

Ethan groaned against me, the vibration sending another pulse of pleasure spiraling through my body.

“Fuck, she tastes so good,” he growled, his tongue pressing deeper and making me jolt. “I could keep her like this for hours.”

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

The pleasure was too much. Too sharp, too consuming.

Owen’s grip on my hair tightened as he pushed deeper, his thrusts losing their rhythm.

“Fuck, fuck.”

His voice was strained, his muscles locked tight.

The moment he spilled down my throat, groaning my name, Ethan doubled down, his tongue moving faster, his fingers digging into my thighs as he held me in place.

I gasped, my body shuddering violently as the pleasure detonated inside me, my climax tearing through me like a live wire.

Ethan groaned in satisfaction, licking me through it, dragging every last tremor from my overstimulated body.

Mason cursed under his breath, his fingers still gripping my waist as he watched me unravel.

Owen stroked my cheek, his breathing still ragged. “Goddamn, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Ethan’s fingers slid from me, leaving me trembling and breathless.

In one swift movement, he flipped me onto my stomach, my body pressing into the mattress.

I gasped when his hands ran down my spine, firm, possessive, as he nudged my legs apart with his knee.

Mason and Owen watched, their eyes dark with anticipation.

Ethan leaned over me, his lips grazing my ear.

“You’ve been so good for us,” he murmured, his fingers trailing down to where I was already soaked, spreading me open with deliberate slowness. “Now, I think it’s time I take what's mine.”

A whimper escaped me as he gripped my hips, his cock pressing against my entrance, teasing, not giving me what I desperately needed.

I moaned, my fingers clenching the sheets as he sank deeper, filling me completely.

He didn’t move at first, just let me feel every inch of him, the delicious stretch making me tremble.

Then, with a slow, devastating roll of his hips, he started to thrust.

I gasped, arching beneath him, every nerve ending firing at once.

Ethan set a slow, punishing rhythm, his grip tightening on my hips as he drove into me, each thrust sending pleasure spiraling through me.

“You like this, don’t you?” he murmured against my skin. “Being fucked while they watch?”

I whimpered, unable to form words, my body completely surrendering to his.

Ethan reached down, fingers finding my clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he coaxed. “Give them a show.”

Pleasure coiled deep, heat licking up my spine.

The pressure was unbearable, overwhelming, and yet I never wanted it to stop.

His fingers pressed harder against my clit, and that was it. I came undone with a sharp cry, my body tightening around him as pleasure tore through me, relentless and all-consuming.

Ethan cursed, his movements stuttering as he groaned my name, his release following mine, his body trembling against me as he spilled deep inside.

The sun streamed through the blinds, dancing on the walls, but I barely noticed it. My body felt like it was still on fire from last night, the memory of their touch, their heat, lingering on my skin.

Every inch of me was a reminder of how completely I’d given in, how completely they’d claimed me. But as I lay there, tangled in the sheets, a knot tightened in my chest.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, shattering the fragile moment of peace. I groaned, blinking against the daylight, and reached for it.

The name on the screen made my stomach sink. Daniel Parker.

Again.

I hesitated for a moment, my thumb hovering over the green answer button.

Then I took a breath and swiped to pick up as I snuck from the room to take this in private.

“Aurora.” His voice sliced through the line, cold and furious. “Where the hell are you? I’ve been waiting on you for days now. Do you remember Sterling and Co.? You're supposed to be handling them, and now they’re calling me every damn hour. Every hour. They only want to work with you, and you're nowhere to be found. What the hell is going on? I thought I made myself clear.”

I exhaled slowly, the pressure mounting behind my eyes. “I know, Daniel. Things are complicated right now.”

“Complicated?” he snapped, his voice rising in frustration. “This isn’t some side project. Sterling is pissed, and I can’t keep stalling them. They want you. You're the one they’re interested in. And you're playing house out there like it’s some damn vacation?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to rein in my thoughts. “It’s not a vacation, Daniel. I’m dealing with legal issues right now with the bookstore.”

There was a sharp pause on the other end.

“Legal issues?” Daniel’s voice was incredulous, like he couldn’t believe what I was saying. “Are you serious right now? I thought it was just some bookstore to sell. I don’t know why you're making this such an issue.”

I rubbed my temple, frustration mixing with a growing sense of guilt. “My uncle left a mess that I need to fix.”

“And that's more important? I need you back here this week.”

“I…” This was bad, really bad. “I can’t.”

“You don’t want to lose this job, do you?”

The words stung, harder than they should have.

I had worked so hard to get to where I was, but now I wasn’t sure if I even wanted it anymore.

The weight of the decision I had to make was overwhelming. I couldn’t make a choice right now.

“I'll be back soon,” I said quietly, though the words felt hollow. “As soon as I can.”

“You’d better,” Daniel snapped. “And you’d better have a damn good explanation when you get here. If I don’t hear from you again in the next twenty-four hours, I’m pulling you off the Sterling account, and you can kiss that ‘future’ goodbye.”

The call ended abruptly, leaving an echo of silence hanging in the air.

I stood there for a long moment, phone still in hand, staring at nothing.

The hollow sting of Daniel's words lingered, but I wasn’t sure if I was more upset about his anger or the fact that I didn’t actually want to run back to the city.

I’d known I couldn’t keep this up forever, but now?

Now it felt too late to pull away. I’d already crossed a line I wasn’t sure I could uncross. And I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to.

But deep down, I knew I had to. Before it got messier.

I couldn’t let myself fall too hard for these men.

Because no matter how much I wanted to ignore it, the truth was clear as day: this was a temporary thing.

What I had with them—what I wanted from them—couldn’t last.

I had a life waiting for me back in the real world. A job, a career, an identity that didn’t include a complicated, impossible love affair with three brothers.

I had to cut myself loose.

Before I couldn’t anymore.

I just wasn’t sure if I had the strength to do it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Owen

I hadn't planned on stopping by Page Turners, but I couldn’t help myself. I needed to see her.

The door creaked open as I stepped inside, and the smell of old books hit me right away.

Familiar. Comfortable. But the air was thick with tension.

“Aurora?” I called, my voice low.

She was sitting on the floor, papers scattered around her. She looked overwhelmed.

“Aurora,” I said again, stepping closer.

She blinked, startled, then wiped her eyes quickly. “Hey, Owen.”

“Everything okay?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

She nodded, but it wasn’t convincing. “Just trying to sort this out.”

I glanced at the papers.

Clippings. Old ones.

I crouched beside her, grabbing the first one I saw. The headline caught my eye.

Grady. Bennett. It was all over the page.

I handed it back to her. “What is this?”

She didn’t meet my eyes. “I don’t know. My uncle had these. I found them in his things. You know, I said there was paperwork? Well, I guess there’s this, too.”

I scanned it again. “This is about your family and mine.”

Her fingers tightened around the paper. “I know. I didn’t think it meant anything until now.”

I frowned. “What does it mean?”

“I’m not sure yet,” she said. “But it looks like… that deal. The big one. Between our families.”

“Shit,” I muttered. “The one Ethan mentioned?”

“I think so,” she said, voice shaky. “There’s more. Another family is mentioned here. But no names. Just ‘the third party.’”

I leaned in, my gut tight. “A third party? What does that mean? Who does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, staring at the papers. “It’s like this was all covered up.”

I looked at her, really looked at her. Her eyes were wide, distant.

She was trying to hold it together, but she was falling apart.

“I’m here,” I said, locking eyes with her. “Whatever this is, I’m with you.”

She didn’t respond, just nodded, her lips trembling.

I stayed quiet for a moment, watching her, wondering how I could help. It was frustrating, not knowing enough about this.

I opened my mouth to say something, but the ringing of Aurora’s phone cut me off.

She looked at the screen, her face paling. After hesitating for a moment, she answered, her voice tight.

“Hello?” she said, almost breathless.

I watched her face shift, the color draining from it as she listened.

My gut clenched. Something was wrong.

“Aurora.” The voice on the other end was crisp, formal. At least what I could hear of it. “This is Thomas Calloway. I’m calling to inform you that a claim has officially been filed against your ownership of Page Turners.”

What?

I didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. My focus was on her, her hands shaking as she clutched the phone.

Her breath quickened, her chest rising and falling sharply.

“What?” she murmured. “How? I thought everything was settled.”

Her voice faltered, the words trailing off. Her face was a mixture of confusion and dread.

I didn’t need to hear more to know how serious this was. Whoever had filed that claim wasn’t just messing around.

When she hung up, I couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“What the hell is going on, Aurora?”

I stepped closer, my voice low, furious even though I had no idea who to be angry at yet.

She blinked, her own expression lost. “I don’t know. I thought it was all behind me. The paperwork, the inheritance. Everything. But now someone’s challenging it. I thought I was in the sale process, but now…”

Her eyes shifted to the papers still scattered around her, as though they might somehow explain it all.

I knew she was overwhelmed, but damn it, this wasn’t something she could handle alone.

“Who would do this?” I asked, my voice quiet but sharp.

She shook her head, clearly at a loss.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense. No one’s supposed to have a claim.” Her voice cracked. “I need to figure out who’s behind it.”

I couldn’t just stand by.

“Fuck. Well, you know we'll help you.”

She looked at me, uncertainty in her eyes. “I don’t know what to do next, Owen.”

I didn’t think. I acted.

I reached for her then, pulling her into me, wrapping my arms around her tightly.

Her body was stiff at first, unsure, but I held on, feeling her breath quicken against my chest.

Her hands rested on my shoulders, trembling. I could feel the weight of everything pressing down on her.

“Hey,” I whispered, my voice softer than I expected. “It’s going to be okay. We'll figure this out, Aurora. Don’t worry.”

She let out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging as she leaned into me.

Slowly, she relaxed, her head resting against my chest.

I felt the heat of her tears against my shirt before she even made a sound.

“I’m scared, Owen,” she whispered, her voice muffled by the fabric. “This is all so hard, and I’m already under pressure from my boss. I don’t know what to do. Should I just give Page Turners to whoever wants it? Go back to my life and forget about all of this?”

I felt a knot tighten in my chest at her words.

The weight of her fear was sinking into me, and I couldn’t stand it.

She was torn, pulled in so many directions, and all I wanted to do was make it stop.

“No,” I said, my voice firm. “I don’t think you should just think about giving this up. It isn’t what your uncle wanted.”

But even as I said the words, something twisted inside me.

Her life was in the city. Her career, her boss, everything she had worked for.

Her future.

A future that was never meant to involve us.

“You have to do what's right for you,” I whispered, sadness creeping into my voice. “Whatever that is. But don’t feel like you're trapped, Aurora. You can still make your choice. Don’t let this force you into something you don’t want to do.”

She lifted her head slightly, her eyes filled with uncertainty. She was staring at me as if trying to figure out if what I said was true.

“It’s going to be okay,” I whispered.

Then I saw it.

A hand-drawn book, half hidden beneath a pile of papers.

I pulled it out. The Adventures of Rosie and the Bookshop Dragon.

She smiled a little when she saw it. “I wrote that when I was little. I guess my uncle did keep it.”

I flipped through it, scanning my eyes over the words.

A story about a girl and a dragon who protected books.

Her story. Her dream.

“You're a good writer,” I said, looking at her. “Even at this age. I’m surprised you didn’t become an author.”

Her lips pressed together, and she nodded. “I never thought it was possible. But yeah. I’ve always wanted to.”

I held her gaze, a little surprised.

She had so many dreams that didn’t involve the city.

But of course, she was still torn.

“You still can.”

Her face faltered. “But I can’t. Not with everything else going on in my life.”

“You can,” I said, my voice sharp. “You don’t have to choose. You're not just one thing.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know how to do it all.”

I leaned in, my voice low. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now. But you can’t give up on your dreams. You deserve to chase them.”

Her hands shook, but she nodded. Slowly.

She smiled thinly. “Maybe I just take this one step at a time, huh?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Aurora

The hours blurred together.

I'd spent the entire day with Thomas Calloway, trying to pry answers out of him. But all I got were vague assurances and cryptic statements that led nowhere.

The legal mess surrounding Page Turners was more complicated than I ever imagined.

Whoever was challenging my ownership had every intention of making this as difficult as possible, and no one seemed to know anything concrete.

I was spent. My brain felt like it was on fire, my thoughts jumping from one dead end to the next.

I couldn’t breathe in this uncertainty.

My uncle’s legacy was being shredded by invisible hands, and I was helpless to stop it.

I stepped through the doors of the Medford Inn, the familiar scent of polished wood and candle wax hitting me instantly.

It was always a comforting place to return to after a long day, but tonight, it felt a little colder than usual.

Nancy Hayes was sitting behind the front desk, her hands busy sorting through some papers. When she looked up, she smiled warmly at me, but I could tell she sensed my exhaustion.

“Long day?” she asked, her voice soft, knowing the answer before I even said a word.

I let out a long breath, sinking into one of the chairs by the fire. “You could say that. I’m having some issues with Page Turners.”

Nancy nodded and set the papers down, her expression turning serious. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you something, Aurora. Something that might make all this a little clearer.”

I straightened up, alert now. “What do you mean?”

What the hell was going on now?

She hesitated, looking around the inn as though making sure no one was listening, before she lowered her voice. “I think I owe you an explanation about your uncle. I don’t know if it'll help, but you deserve to know.”

I leaned forward, my heart pounding. “What do you know, Nancy?”

She took a deep breath. “Your uncle, he wasn’t in a good place when he passed. I don’t think you were ever told this, but he was being blackmailed.”

My mind whirled. “Blackmailed? By who?”

Nancy shook her head slowly. “I don’t know, sweetie. Your uncle owed someone a lot of money. He knew he was sick and he was trying to make things right, but the heart attack came before he could get his business in order.” She trailed off, her gaze distant, the weight of her words sinking in.

I was stunned. “How do you know this?”

Nancy met my eyes. “I’ve lived in Medford a long time. Your uncle was a good man, but he wasn’t perfect. He kept things quiet, and he had a way of getting in over his head. A few people knew about the debt, but no one knew who he owed. Not even me.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. “How much money are we talking about?”

Nancy’s lips pressed together. “Enough that it would’ve ruined him if it came to light. Enough that it could’ve put everything at risk. The bookstore, his reputation, everything he worked for.”

I shook my head, trying to process what she was saying. “But why didn’t anyone tell me? Why didn’t I know any of this? I briefly even met Beatrice Callahan when I first arrived, and she said nothing.”

Nancy’s eyes softened with sympathy.

“He kept it from everyone, Aurora. Even the people closest to him. He was trying to settle the debt before he died.” She sighed, her voice lowering. “By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late. He was gone.”

I stared at her, the confusion swirling in my chest. “Who was he trying to pay? Who is this person?”

She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. He never said. But I do know this: whoever he owed, they’re still out there. And now, it seems like it’s affecting you.”

I blinked, my head spinning.

Blackmail. Debt.

My uncle had been hiding something from me, and now, it was tearing apart everything he left behind.

I leaned back, staring at the flames in the fireplace, but they offered no warmth, no comfort.

“What do I do now?” I asked quietly, the weight of it all pressing down on me. “Maybe find Beatrice?”

Nancy didn’t answer right away. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before speaking again.

“I don’t have the answers, sweetie. But maybe someone else does. Someone who’s been around Medford long enough to know more than they let on.”

I nodded, trying to digest everything she’d told me. It was a lot.

It felt like every time I thought I was getting closer to understanding my uncle’s death, more questions opened up.

How could he have been blackmailed? Who was this person he owed? And why hadn't anyone told me about it sooner?

Was the break-in connected to this? It had to be.

And then there was Hank Lawson, yelling at me at the festival. But if it was him, wouldn’t he have just told me about the debt instead of being so cryptic?

A heavy silence settled between us, broken only by the crackling fire.

My mind raced, turning over Nancy’s words, trying to make sense of them.

If my uncle had been blackmailed, if he had owed someone a life-altering debt, then whoever was behind this legal battle for Page Turners might not just be some opportunistic investor.

Maybe they were connected.

“Well, thank you for letting me know.”

She smiled sadly. “I wish I could do more. If you need anything, please let me know.”

I didn’t want to think about it anymore, so I made my way upstairs to my room, needing to escape the tension.

The door clicked behind me as I stepped into the quiet space, and I sank onto the bed, feeling the exhaustion of the day seep into my bones.

I tried to push everything out of my mind, but it wasn’t working.

Everything kept circling back to Page Turners, to my uncle, to the claim against my ownership, and to my other life.

My real life.

I was stuck.

Torn between the life I was building here and the future I’m supposed to have. Between loyalty to my uncle’s memory and my own aspirations.

Whatever they were.

I stood up, needing to clear my head. I went into the bathroom, the cool tile floor a welcome relief beneath my feet.

As I reached for my toothbrush, my eyes drifted to the counter where I had left the small box of tampons.

My stomach dropped.

It had been weeks.

I hadn't even realized at first, the constant stress of everything clouding my mind, but now that I saw them, the thought hit me like a punch to the gut.

My period. I’d missed it.

Not by a few days, but over a week.

I hadn't even noticed, too focused on everything else, but a realization washed over me, and I felt a rush of panic.

Could it be?

No.

It couldn’t. Not now.

I shook my head hard, as if I could physically force the thought out of my mind.

It was ridiculous. Impossible.

But still, something wasn’t right.

I was exhausted in a way that sleep couldn’t fix.

My emotions swung from one extreme to the next. Raw, unpredictable, like a storm I couldn’t outrun. My body felt foreign, my breaths too shallow, my focus shattered.

I thought it was just being here in Medford, but the signs were there, staring me in the face, daring me to acknowledge them.

Could stress really cause this? Could anxiety twist my body into betraying me like this?

Or was there something far worse lurking beneath the surface?

I reached for the box of tampons, my fingers curling around it, clutching it like it could somehow anchor me.

But the longer I stared, the heavier the weight in my chest became.

A sharp breath shuddered through me.

No. I couldn’t ignore this.

I needed to know.

My hands trembled as I grabbed my phone, my fingers moving too fast, too frantic as I typed: “Nearest pharmacy.”

I didn’t want to do this.

Not now. Not when my entire life felt like it was already unraveling, thread by thread, secret by secret.

But I had to.

The cold night air slapped against my skin as I stepped outside, but it did nothing to calm the feverish heat rising inside me.

My car was parked right by the entrance to the inn—delivered at last by Ethan—but just the thought of getting inside made me breathe hard.

No, I needed to move, to feel the cold air in my lungs, to focus on anything but what was coming.

Every step felt sluggish, my boots scraping against the pavement as the weight in my stomach coiled tighter, heavier.

By the time I reached the pharmacy, my pulse was a roar in my ears, my fingers stiff as I reached for the test.

The cashier’s voice was a distant hum, polite chatter drowned out by the sheer, suffocating pressure in my chest.

I barely remembered the walk back to the Medford Inn.

I barely remembered locking myself in the bathroom, my breath coming in uneven bursts as I stared down at the small, unassuming box in my hands.

I told myself it was just a test.

Just a precaution. A way to silence the doubt before it grew into something unbearable.

But deep down, I already knew.

The minutes crawled by, each one stretching longer, heavier, an eternity trapped in a room too small for the fear clawing at my ribs.

I paced.

I gripped the counter.

I counted down the seconds with my pulse hammering in my throat.

Then I looked.

The world narrowed, my vision tunneling as I read the result.

Positive.

A rush of air left my lungs, but it wasn’t relief. It was pure, unfiltered panic.

I was pregnant.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Ethan

The steady rhythm of my feet hitting the packed dirt of the Fernridge Trailhead was usually enough to clear my head.

The early morning air was crisp, the scent of damp earth mixing with the faint pine that lingered in the trees.

Normally, this was my time—just me, the sound of my breath, and the dull burn in my muscles as I pushed myself forward.

No distractions. No bullshit. Just movement.

But today, no matter how fast or far I ran, my thoughts still tangled.

Aurora.

Her name lived in the back of my mind now, taking up space I wasn’t sure I was ready to give.

I gritted my teeth and picked up the pace, trying to run the tension out of my system.

Didn’t work.

The sound of twigs snapping pulled me out of my head, and I slowed as I rounded the next bend in the trail. A familiar figure was making his way toward me, his steps steady, shoulders squared.

Nate Harper, Lila’s brother.

Firefighter alongside Jaxon, Colt, and Ryan.

He nodded as he spotted me. “Ethan.”

“Nate,” I returned, slowing to a stop. “How's it going?”

“Yeah, good. You?”

I sighed heavily. “I dunno. Needed to clear my head.”

His mouth quirked. “That bad?”

I exhaled hard, shaking my head. “You don’t wanna know.”

He huffed a quiet laugh but didn’t press. Instead, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and glanced into the trees, his expression shifting.

“You keeping an eye on what's happening around town?” he asked, his tone casual, but I wasn’t stupid. There was weight behind his words.

My jaw tightened. “If you're talking about Hank Lawson, then yeah, I’ve been watching.”

Nate’s gaze swung back to me, sharp. “He's making moves. Trying to buy up businesses, land—anything he can get his hands on. Weird, right? Is he after you?”

I swore under my breath. “That son of a bitch has been after me for far too long.”

“You holding firm?”

My fists clenched at my sides. “He can make all the offers he wants. I’m not selling.”

Nate studied me for a moment, then nodded. “Good. Medford is great as is. We don’t need some asshole gentrifying it.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

“It’s starting to make a lot of people nervous,” Nate murmured. “I don’t like the way this might head.”

“I can handle Lawson,” I assured him. “He's not getting his hands on the auto shop and my grandfather’s legacy, no matter what he tries.”

Nate’s lips pressed into a firm line. “Maybe. But what about her?”

I didn’t have to ask who he meant.

Aurora.

“I know he's certain he'll get Page Turners, for a start. Do you know anything about that?”

What could I say?

Aurora wasn’t from here. She didn’t have any more family ties.

She could cave.

“I don’t know, but I hope he doesn’t get his hands on anything.”

“Me too,” Nate agreed. “I don’t like the idea of that asshole having any more control. I know his family is from Medford, but he hasn't been here for years, has he? He doesn’t have the same care about the town that the rest of us do.”

I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my damp hair. “No, he doesn’t. He just sees an opportunity, a way to flip this place into something unrecognizable and make a fortune off it.”

Nate nodded grimly. “Right. It’s almost like he's trying to fulfill some personal goal or vendetta. It’s weird.”

My chest tightened. “What can we do about it?”

Nate offered me a one-shouldered shrug. “I guess we stay strong, right? Stick together. Maybe we need a town meeting or something? Talk it out with everyone.”

“You know Hank will use a town meeting to his advantage.”

Nate nodded grimly. “We need to figure something out, right? I know my sister and all the guys at the firehouse will be on our side. Maybe everyone in the bowling league as well.”

“But we still have a lot of work to do.”

All of a sudden, this didn’t feel like such a personal battle anymore. This was something that all of us needed to take on.

The tension in my chest hadn't eased by the time I made it back to the auto shop. I killed the engine of my truck, rubbing a hand over my face before stepping out.

The parking lot was empty—too early for the guys to be in yet—but something felt off.

The kind of off that made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

The front door was locked, same as I’d left it last night, but as I stepped inside, the first thing I noticed was the sharp metallic scent in the air.

Not oil. Not grease. Something colder.

I turned toward the break room, and that was when I saw it.

A knife, its hilt buried deep into the corkboard, and a note pinned beneath it.

I crossed the room in two strides, my jaw clenching as I ripped the paper free.

The blade was still lodged in the wall, handle smudged like someone had wiped it down.

No prints. No mistakes.

A warning.

I unfolded the note, my pulse pounding.

Back off. Sell the shop. Or else.

No name. No signature. Just those few words, written in sharp, jagged strokes.

My blood ran hot.

I wasn’t stupid. I knew exactly who was behind this.

Hank fucking Lawson.

The bastard must’ve finally lost patience with his little game of buyouts and smooth-talking bullshit.

I crushed the paper in my fist.

I’d dealt with threats before—pissed off customers, drunk idiots looking to fight—but this? This was different. This was personal.

And the worst part?

He wasn’t just coming after me. He was coming after everything I’d built.

Everything my family had built.

I took a slow breath, forcing the heat in my veins to simmer instead of burn. If Lawson thought I was just going to roll over, he was dead wrong.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, my grip still tight around the crumpled note.

This wasn’t something I could deal with alone.

Lawson had crossed a line, and if he was willing to send a message like this, then we had to be ready for whatever came next.

I dialed Mason first. He always answered.

“Yeah?” His voice was rough with sleep.

“Get to the shop. Now.”

There was a pause. “What's wrong?”

“Just get here. Bring Owen.”

A sigh. “Alright. Give me ten.”

I ended the call and shoved my phone back into my pocket, pacing the length of the break room.

My eyes kept flicking back to the knife, still embedded in the corkboard like a goddamn trophy.

Ten minutes stretched into fifteen before I heard the rumble of Mason’s truck pulling into the lot, followed by the distinct growl of Owen’s bike.

I stepped out of the break room just as the front door swung open.

Mason walked in first, his expression already tight with concern, his dark green hoodie half zipped over a wrinkled T-shirt.

Owen followed close behind, helmet tucked under one arm, brows furrowed.

“You wanna tell me why the hell we’re getting called in before sunrise?” he asked, voice sharp.

Exaggeration.

Obviously this wasn’t before sunrise, but I didn’t need to point that out when he was pissed.

I didn’t answer right away.

Instead, I turned and stalked back into the break room, letting them follow.

When they stepped inside, their eyes landed on the knife in the corkboard.

Mason let out a low whistle. “Shit.”

Owen’s gaze darkened as he walked closer, plucking the crumpled note from my fist. He smoothed it out, reading the jagged words, his jaw tightening.

“Back off. Sell the shop. Or else.” He exhaled sharply, muttering, “Son of a bitch.”

Mason leaned against the table, arms crossed. “You think it was Lawson?”

I met his gaze. “Who else?”

Owen shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “This is a new low. I mean, we knew he was a snake, but this? He's getting desperate.”

“Desperate means dangerous,” I muttered. “He's done playing nice. Now he's trying to scare us into selling.”

Mason scoffed. “Yeah, well, he picked the wrong damn family to threaten.”

I nodded, but the weight of it all pressed heavy on my chest.

It wasn’t just about the shop anymore. It wasn’t just about us.

I pushed a hand through my hair and exhaled hard. “Nate Harper ran into me on the trail this morning. He says Lawson’s making moves all over town, trying to buy up land, businesses… trying to get his hands on Page Turners.”

That got their attention.

Owen straightened. “Wait, you think that's why Aurora is having legal troubles?”

His words hit like a sucker punch. Legal troubles?

I stared at him, trying to process what the hell he’d just said. “Hold up. What do you mean, ‘legal troubles’?”

Owen exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “Someone filed a claim against her right to Page Turners. She got a call from her lawyer yesterday.”

My stomach tightened. “Who the hell would do that?”

Owen shook his head. “Don’t know. But it’s serious. Someone’s saying she doesn’t legally own the store, that there’s some kind of claim that puts everything in question.”

Mason let out a low whistle. “Jesus.”

I clenched my fists. “What the fuck is happening?”

Owen shrugged.

Mason crossed his arms. “You think Lawson’s behind this?”

Owen met my gaze. “If I had to bet? Yeah. I know she didn’t get a name, but I can bet it’s him.”

I gritted my teeth, my pulse pounding.

It made sense. Too much sense.

Aurora wasn’t from here. She didn’t have deep roots. That made her an easier target. He had already confronted her at the festival.

“He's trying to force her out first,” I muttered. “Start the ball rolling.”

Owen nodded. “Either that or he's just making her life hell until she gives up on her own.”

Something hot and sharp twisted in my gut.

I hated this.

“She's thinking about leaving,” Owen said quietly, like he could hear the thought in my head. “Sooner rather than later.”

I snapped my gaze to him. “Leaving?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “She said she doesn’t know if it’s worth fighting for. Between the store, the legal mess, and the pressure from her boss in the city… She's torn.”

I inhaled through my nose, forcing myself to stay calm.

Mason let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “So what's the plan? ‘Cause I’m not about to sit around and wait for Lawson to make another move.”

I nodded. “Nate suggested a town meeting. Get everyone together. Make sure Lawson knows we’re not rolling over.”

Owen tilted his head. “He’d show up to that, you think?”

Mason smirked. “Oh, he’d show. Guys like him love the sound of their own voice.”

I crossed my arms. “Good. Let him talk. Let him try to sell his bullshit. It'll just make it clearer to everyone exactly what he's after.”

Owen exhaled, tapping the note against his palm. “Alright. Let’s do it. Let’s call the meeting. But we need to make sure people actually show. We need business owners, longtime residents, anyone who gives a damn about Medford.”

I glanced between my brothers, something solid settling in my chest.

This was our town. Our home.

And we weren’t letting Lawson take it without a fight.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Aurora

I barely made it to the sink in time.

My stomach lurched violently, and I gripped the edge of the counter, my breath coming in shallow gasps as I emptied what little was in my stomach.

The sharp sting of bile burned my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the wave to pass.

It didn’t.

Not right away.

This had been happening every morning for the past few days—this awful, gut-twisting sickness that left me drained and aching.

And it wasn’t just the nausea. It was everything.

The exhaustion that clung to me no matter how much I slept.

The dull ache behind my eyes from stress.

The uncertainty twisting through my chest, making it impossible to breathe.

Crap, I didn’t even know what I was going to do about this baby. I had so many questions. How could I even think about having this baby when I had no idea what I was going to do with my life.

If I went back home and carried on with my job, this was going to be a nightmare.

But at the same time, I couldn’t imagine making any rash decisions without talking to the guys yet.

Although I wasn’t sure how that conversation would start.

Urgh, it was all a mess.

I ran the water, rinsing my mouth and splashing cool relief against my face.

Gripping the sink, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I barely recognized myself. My skin was pale, my eyes shadowed.

I couldn’t keep doing this.

Hiding. Avoiding. But what was I supposed to do?

Every time I tried to figure out my next move, my thoughts tangled into an impossible knot.

Page Turners.

The legal claim.

My boss breathing down my neck, waiting for me to give him an answer.

And now this.

I pressed a hand to my stomach, my breath hitching. I had no idea what I was doing.

I should be in the city, in my office, where everything was predictable and structured.

Where I wasn’t up to my neck in legal battles and small-town drama.

Where I wasn’t growing attached to things I was never supposed to care about.

The bookstore. The town.

Them.

I swallowed hard, pushing the thought away before it could sink its claws in too deep.

I needed space. Time. A plan.

But I had none of those things.

And worse? I wasn’t sure I wanted them anymore.

I turned away from the mirror, taking a slow breath. Maybe if I kept moving, if I kept busy, I could push everything aside for just a little longer.

Maybe then, I’d finally figure out what the hell I was supposed to do.

By the time I made it to Page Turners, I was running on sheer willpower.

The morning air was crisp, the chill biting through my sweater, but it wasn’t enough to shake the exhaustion pressing against my skull.

I was halfway across the street when I smelled it.

Smoke.

My steps faltered, heart slamming against my ribs.

I scanned the storefront, my breath catching when I saw it. Blackened scorch marks near the entrance, the faint curl of burned paper along the bottom of the door frame.

A pile of charred debris sat just outside, as if someone had tried to set fire to the place but failed.

No.

No, no, no.

I ran the rest of the way, my hands shaking as I fumbled for my keys.

The lock stuck for a second before turning, and I shoved the door open, my stomach twisting at the acrid scent lingering inside.

It wasn’t a full fire. It hadn't spread.

But it was enough.

Enough to leave a mark. Enough to make my pulse thunder in my ears as I stepped inside, scanning the shop for more damage.

A section of the wooden floor near the entrance was charred, the edges of a welcome mat burned and curled. Someone had broken a window near the back, and the shards were scattered across the floor.

I exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to my mouth.

Who would do this? No. Why would someone do this?

The legal claim.

It wasn’t a coincidence. It couldn’t be.

The bookstore had been struggling for years. No one had cared about it until now. And now, someone wanted me out badly enough to send a message.

It was working.

I sank onto the nearest chair, my legs too weak to hold me up. My chest tightened, and before I could stop it, a sob tore free.

This was a mess. A disaster.

I had no idea how to fix it. I had no idea how to fight this.

I didn’t know how to be this—someone who stayed and fought instead of running when things got too complicated.

I covered my face with my hands, my breath ragged. I was so damn tired.

Of the uncertainty. Of the stress. Of caring about something I wasn’t sure I had a right to hold on to.

A faint creak sounded near the door, and I stiffened.

Someone was here.

I shot to my feet so fast my chair scraped against the floor, heart hammering. My breath hitched as a tall figure stepped inside.

Hank Lawson.

His smile was slow and calculated, like he had all the time in the world. “Rough morning, Miss Bennett?”

I swallowed hard, my stomach still churning from earlier, my pulse roaring in my ears. “What do you want?”

His gaze drifted over the damage—the charred floor, the shattered glass—before settling back on me, his smile never faltering.

“I just came to check on you.”

Bullshit.

I clenched my jaw as he took a step closer, too casual, too confident. He slid a thick manila folder across the counter.

“What is this?” My voice came out hoarse.

“A solution,” he said smoothly. “Go on. Take a look.”

My fingers felt stiff as I flipped the folder open.

Legal documents. Thick, official-looking, stamped with names I didn’t recognize but that carried weight nonetheless.

My eyes darted over the words, the meaning sinking in slowly, suffocating me.

The ownership of Page Turners was never fully settled.

I felt the blood drain from my face.

“My uncle.” My voice cracked. “He owned this store. He left it to me.”

Hank let out a low hum, almost like he pitied me. “Well, it wasn’t exactly his to pass on. There were complications in the transfer of ownership years ago. Loose ends that were never properly tied up. Loose ends that need tying up now that I’m back in town. It’s time to get back what was stolen from my family.”

Stolen? Did he mean the debt?

What the hell was going on?

I shook my head, flipping through the pages. This couldn’t be right. I had the will, the paperwork.

But the words on these documents told a different story, one full of legal loopholes and fine print I didn’t fully understand.

A cold sweat broke out along my spine.

“I can fight this,” I said, but the words were weak, uncertain.

Hank exhaled, shaking his head like he was disappointed.

“Sure. You could. But that would take time. Money. Lawyers. And in the end, you’d still lose.” He tapped a finger against the folder. “But I’m offering you a way out. Sell to me, and this all goes away. No court battles. No stress. Just a clean break.”

I stared at him, my throat thick. He made it sound so easy.

If I walked away, everything would be solved. No more legal threats. No more draining my savings trying to fix this mess. No more worrying about the store, the debts, the responsibility I hadn't even asked for.

No more connection to this town.

To them.

Hank’s voice softened, coaxing. “You don’t want this, Aurora. This isn’t your life. You’ve got a career waiting for you, don’t you? A life back in the city? Why waste your time fighting a battle you can’t win? For a town that isn’t even yours.”

He took a step closer. “I mean, this isn’t your life, is it? Not your real life. But it’s threatening your real life. The more time you spend here, the more your future slips away.”

My grip tightened on the folder, my pulse pounding in my temples.

He was right. Selling would fix everything.

So why couldn’t I say yes?

I sucked in a sharp breath, trying to ignore the way my stomach twisted.

“I'll think about it,” I forced out.

Hank’s eyes gleamed, like he already knew the answer.

“Do that.” He took a step back, but not before resting a single hand on the counter, fingers tapping once against the wood. “But don’t take too long. This offer expires in three days.”

My chest constricted.

And then he was gone, leaving nothing but silence in his wake.

I stood there, gripping the folder like a lifeline, staring at the destruction around me.

Three days to decide whether to fight.

Or to let it all burn.

The second the door swung shut behind Hank, my legs gave out.

I hit the floor hard, my back against the counter, the folder still clutched in my trembling hands. My breath came too fast, too shallow, but I couldn’t seem to slow it down.

Three days.

That was all I had before this all spiraled even further out of my control.

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my palms against my temples, but it didn’t stop the thoughts from swarming.

The smell of burnt wood still clung to the air, sharp and acrid, mixing with the lingering fear curling in my gut.

Someone had tried to burn Page Turners.

And now Hank Lawson was here, offering me an escape wrapped up in legal threats and smooth words.

My body shook, and I hated it. Hated that I felt so powerless. That I was sitting here on the floor, overwhelmed and completely alone.

Not alone.

I could call the Gradys. Ethan, Owen, Mason. Any one of them would come running if I asked.

But I couldn’t.

I was still hiding things from them. Still holding onto secrets I wasn’t ready to spill. If I called them, they’d ask questions, demand answers I wasn’t prepared to give.

I needed someone who wouldn’t push. Someone who would just be there.

With shaking hands, I fumbled for my phone, barely able to focus on the screen as I scrolled.

Then I found her name.

Lila. The closest damn friend I’d ever had in my whole life.

I hesitated for half a second before pressing the call button.

It rang twice.

“Aurora?” Her voice was bright, a little breathless, like I’d caught her in the middle of something. “Hey, what's up?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. A thick lump lodged itself in my throat, and suddenly, I was struggling to breathe all over again.

“Aurora?” Lila’s voice sharpened, shifting from casual to concerned in an instant. “What's wrong?”

I sucked in a shuddering breath.

“Can you…” My voice cracked, and I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to get the words out. “Can you come to Page Turners?”

“I’m on my way.”

No hesitation. No questions. Just that simple promise.

And for the first time since I’d walked into this nightmare, I didn’t feel like I was drowning completely alone.

Lila arrived in record time.

One second, I was curled up on the floor of Page Turners, heart pounding, hands still gripping that damn folder. The next, the door burst open, and Lila was there, eyes wide, scanning the store like she expected to find a murderer lurking in the stacks.

She spotted me and immediately dropped to her knees.

“Jesus, Aurora.” Her hands found my arms, firm but gentle. “What the hell happened?”

The question cracked something in me.

I’d spent so long trying to hold everything together, trying to convince myself I could handle it. That if I just kept my head down and pushed through, everything would sort itself out.

But now, with Lila here, her presence solid, steady… I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

A sob wrenched its way up my throat and I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head. “I don’t know where to start.”

She didn’t push, didn’t rush me. Just shifted to sit beside me, legs stretched out in front of her, one arm draped over my shoulders.

A quiet, grounding weight.

“It’s okay,” she murmured. “Take your time.”

So I did.

I told her everything.

The legal battle over Page Turners, the fire, and then Hank Lawson showing up with his threats wrapped in legal documents. And how it was starting to feel easier to just snap up my boss’s offer.

By the time I finished, I was drained.

Lila let out a slow, low whistle. “Damn.”

I huffed out a wet laugh. “Yeah.”

She was quiet for a moment, then gave my arm a light squeeze. “First things first, you're not dealing with this alone anymore, okay? I know we haven’t been friends that long, but you don’t have to go through this by yourself.”

The lump in my throat returned, thick and overwhelming. I hadn't realized just how much I needed to hear that.

I nodded, voice barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

She squeezed again, then stood, holding out a hand. “Come on.”

I blinked up at her. “Where?”

“Brewed Bean.” A hint of a smile tugged at her lips. “You need coffee. I need coffee. And Sam’s working today. Between the two of us, we'll talk some sense into you.”

I hesitated. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Nope.” She didn’t let me finish, just wiggled her fingers in front of my face. “No arguments. Let’s go.”

I stared at her for a beat longer, then exhaled and took her hand.

It looked like I was going to see another friend.

The familiar scent of roasted coffee and warm cinnamon wrapped around me as we stepped into The Brewed Bean Café.

The café was busy for mid morning, small groups of locals tucked into booths and scattered at tables. The soft hum of conversation and the hiss of the espresso machine filled the air, blending with the indie folk music playing from the speakers.

Behind the counter, Samantha was filling a to-go cup. She glanced up at the sound of the door, her face lighting up when she saw us.

“Well, if it isn’t my two favorite people.” She snapped a lid onto the cup and slid it across the counter to a waiting customer before turning to us. “What brings you in?”

Lila jerked a thumb at me. “Emergency caffeine intervention.”

Samantha’s dark eyes flicked to my face, and her expression softened.

I must’ve looked as bad as I felt.

“Say no more.” She grabbed a mug and started making something, glancing back at me as she worked. “You okay?”

Did I say yes? Pretend everything was fine?

Or did I tell the truth?

I swallowed hard. “Not really.”

Sam’s hands didn’t pause, but her voice softened. “Then let’s fix that.”

A warm cup of something sweet and spiced was placed in front of me a minute later.

Lila pulled me toward a corner booth, and the second I sat down, I felt a weight I hadn't even realized I was carrying start to lift.

I wasn’t alone anymore.

And that made it even harder to think about leaving Medford.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Mason

I never thought I’d be the kind of guy standing outside a town hall, talking strategy like we were about to go to war. But here we were.

The people of Medford were gathering inside, their voices low, uneasy.

Normally, town meetings were about things like whether the fall festival should have a bigger pumpkin patch or if Old Man Carter’s chickens were a “public nuisance.”

But tonight?

Tonight, we weren’t talking about pumpkins or poultry.

We were talking about Hank Lawson. And how we were gonna stop him from gutting our town like a fish.

I crossed my arms, rocking back on my heels as I watched folks disappear through the double doors. My brothers stood beside me, all of us quiet, watching, waiting.

“This is a mistake,” Owen muttered, his jaw tight. “Lawson plays dirty. I don’t know if this will work.”

Ethan let out a slow breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re going to make it work.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, he won’t fuck with us twice.”

But we all knew it wasn’t going to be that easy.

Lawson wasn’t gonna back off because we told him to. He was the kind of man who only understood power.

And right now, he had all of it.

“So how do we tackle this?” Ethan asked.

I shoved my hands in my pockets. “We make it personal.”

Owen frowned. “It’s already personal.”

“Not just for us,” I said. “For them.”

I gestured toward Main Street, toward the places that made Medford what it was. The Brewed Bean Cafe, where Samantha worked her ass off to keep her mom’s dream alive.

Sweet Maple Bakery, where Mrs. Cooper had been feeding this town since before I was born. The Starry Night Theater, where kids put on Christmas plays and old couples slow-danced during jazz nights.

“This isn’t just about us,” I went on. “Or Aurora. Or even Grady’s Auto. Lawson’s betting that people are too scared to fight back. That selling out is easier than standing up. We need to remind them what they’re fighting for.”

Ethan was quiet for a moment, his brows drawn together in thought. Then he nodded. “You're right. We need to get everyone on board, make them understand what's at stake.”

I felt a flicker of satisfaction until Owen cut in, his voice low.

“And what happens when Lawson decides he's done playing nice?”

A slow smirk pulled at my lips. “Then we stop playing nice, too.”

Ethan shot me a knowing look. “Mason.”

“I’m not saying we go picking fights,” I said, holding up my hands. “But I’m also not gonna sit around waiting for him to make the next move. We push back. We find out what he's really after. Aurora’s uncle didn’t just leave her the bookstore, there’s more to this, and Lawson knows it.”

Owen exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temple. “I hate that you might have a point.”

Ethan glanced back at the town hall doors, where the last stragglers were heading inside. “Then we’d better figure it out fast.”

I nodded. “Damn right.”

As we stepped into the building, I felt something I hadn't in a long time. A fight was coming. And for once, I wasn’t running from it.

Inside the town hall, the air was thick with tension.

Folks were packed into the rows of old wooden chairs, murmuring to each other, their faces a mix of concern and defiance. The usual warmth of Medford—the easygoing, small-town camaraderie—was gone.

Replaced by something colder. Something angrier.

Ethan, Owen, and I stood near the front, facing them.

I wasn’t much for speeches. That was Ethan’s thing, being the responsible, level-headed one. And Owen could get a whole room to listen without saying much at all.

Me? I cracked jokes, I flirted, I made sure people had a good time.

But this wasn’t a good time.

This was our town, our people, and it was slipping through our fingers.

Ethan spoke first.

He didn’t clear his throat. Didn’t hesitate. Just raised his chin, met everyone’s eyes, and started talking like he was already carrying the weight of the town on his shoulders.

“You all know what's happening,” he said, steady. “Hank Lawson has been buying up land, pushing people out, and now he's using threats to get what he wants.

“My shop was vandalized. Aurora’s bookstore was damn near burned down. And I know for a fact some of you have gotten offers you didn’t ask for. Ones that came with an unspoken warning if you didn’t take them.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd. I saw some guilty glances, people shifting in their seats.

Lawson had already gotten to some of them.

Ethan let the silence settle before he continued.

“This isn’t just business,” he said. “It’s a takeover. Lawson isn’t looking to help Medford; he's looking to gut it. He wants our land, our businesses, and when he's done, there won’t be a town left worth living in.”

Someone called out, “What the hell do we do about it?”

Ethan nodded, like he’d been expecting the question.

“We stand together,” he said simply. “We make it clear that Medford isn’t for sale. We refuse to back down. If we do that, we take away his leverage. Lawson thinks he can pick us off one by one. So let’s show him what happens when we don’t let him.”

Applause broke out. A few people even stood up.

Then Owen stepped forward, and the room quieted again.

“I know some of you are scared,” he said, voice even. “Maybe you think it’s easier to take Lawson’s deal. Just sell and move on. But let me ask you something. How many of you have family buried here?”

The room went still.

“How many of you have kids in the same schools you went to?” His gaze swept across the room. “How many of you have memories in this town you don’t want bulldozed over?”

A few nods. A few murmurs.

“Lawson doesn’t care about Medford,” Owen continued. “But we do. We built this place. Our parents built this place. So if you think selling him your land is just a business decision, you're wrong. It’s handing over your family’s history. And once it’s gone, it’s gone for good.”

More murmurs now. People sitting up straighter, whispering to their neighbors. Owen didn’t give them time to stew in it.

“We hold the line,” he said. “That's how we stop him.”

Then it was my turn.

I wasn’t like Ethan with his plans, or Owen with his quiet authority. But I knew how to read a room. And right now, I could see the cracks, the doubt, the fear.

So I gave them something else.

“You know, for most of my life, I didn’t think I was the kind of guy who needed to put down roots,” I started, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Always figured Medford would be here when I wanted to come back. Like a bar tab you can settle whenever you feel like it.”

Some chuckles, but quiet ones.

“But these last few weeks have made me realize something.” I let my gaze sweep across the room. “This town? It’s not just buildings and businesses. It’s people.

“It’s the folks who show up when your car won’t start. The ones who bring you soup when you're sick. The ones who will, without question, drop everything to help their neighbors.”

Heads nodded. People were listening now.

“Lawson doesn’t understand that,” I said. “He thinks Medford is just a piece of property. But we know better. This town is alive. It’s history and heart and stubborn-as-hell people who don’t take kindly to outsiders telling us what we can and can’t do.”

A few cheers. I stepped forward, letting my voice drop just enough to make them lean in.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not about to let some arrogant son of a bitch waltz in here and take that away from us.”

The room erupted. Applause. Stomping feet. The kind of fire that meant people were ready to fight.

And then slow, deliberate clapping from the back of the room.

A cold, slimy feeling hit me before I even turned around.

There he was. Hank Lawson. Leaning against the doorway like he owned the damn place.

“Well, well,” he said, stepping forward. “Quite the performance, gentlemen. Almost makes me believe you stand a chance.”

The energy in the room shifted. That spark of defiance started to waver in his presence.

Ethan squared his shoulders. “What do you want, Lawson?”

He smirked.

“Oh, I think you know.” His gaze swept the room. “I hear a lot of talk about standing together, about fighting back, but let’s be honest—how many of you are willing to risk everything?” He spread his hands. “Because that's what it'll take. I’ve got money, lawyers, and time. How much of that do you have?”

Silence.

He took another step forward.

“I get it. Medford is your home. Your past. But I’m here to offer you a future.” His eyes landed on me. “I’m here to bring Medford into the future. Is it not time that this place had some money injected into it? That it was brought forward into the present? Surely you don’t all want to live in the past forever.”

That hit like a punch to the gut.

I stepped up to him, closing the distance. “You don’t own this town, Lawson. And you sure as hell don’t own us.”

His smirk widened. “No,” he said, voice lowering. “But Medford owes me.”

A chill ran through me. What the hell did that mean?

Lawson clapped me on the shoulder, all casual, like we were old friends.

“Think it over,” he murmured. “I'll be in touch.”

Then he turned and walked out, leaving behind a room full of people whose fear had just been replaced with something else.

A dangerous, lingering question.

What did Medford owe Hank Lawson?

The moment Lawson walked out, the tension in the room shifted. The fire I’d built up with my speech dimmed, flickering under the weight of doubt.

People weren’t clapping anymore. They were whispering, exchanging uneasy glances. I could feel it creeping in, fear.

Nancy Hayes, standing near the back with that calm, knowing look she always had, was the first to speak up.

“He's right about one thing,” she said, arms folded. “We don’t have money. We don’t have lawyers. Even if we fight, how do we win?”

Charlie Dunn nodded. “We’re just regular people. We don’t have the kind of power he does. If he drags us through lawsuits or buys up enough land, what then?”

The murmurs grew louder, doubt spreading like wildfire.

Ethan crossed his arms, jaw tight. “We’re not rolling over just because Lawson’s got deep pockets.”

“You say that, Ethan,” George Cooper called out, frowning, “but fighting him means dragging our families into something dangerous. My wife and I already got an offer for our property, and if we say no, what's stopping Lawson from making our lives hell?”

I clenched my jaw. That's exactly what he's already doing.

Owen, standing solid beside me, spoke up. “You're afraid. We all are. But fear is exactly what Lawson’s counting on. If he can make you believe you’ve already lost, you won’t even try to fight.”

People shifted, uneasy but listening.

I ran a hand through my hair. “Look, I get it. No one wants trouble. But what do you think’s gonna happen if we don’t stop him? Medford won’t be Medford anymore.

“You think Lawson’s gonna keep our businesses, our history? Hell no. He's gonna turn this place into another overpriced, soulless pit where none of us belong.” I exhaled sharply. “And you wanna know the worst part? He thinks he deserves this town. Like we owe it to him.”

That hit home.

People frowned, whispering again, but this time, I could tell they were angry.

“But how?” Ryan muttered. “How do we stop a man like that?”

That was the million-dollar question.

I wished Aurora was here. She’d be on our side.

But she wasn’t here; she hadn't been around for a while now.

This battle was clearly taking it out of her.

Ethan’s voice cut through my thoughts.

“We start by sticking together. By making sure Lawson knows Medford isn’t for sale.” He looked out over the crowd. “If you want to keep your home, your business, your town, you need to make a choice. We stand, or we surrender. And if we surrender, we lose everything.”

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Harriet Cooper spoke up. “I don’t want to lose everything my husband and I built here. But we need more than just anger. We need a plan.”

“I can help with that.”

Lila Harper’s voice rang out from the middle of the crowd, where she stood, arms crossed, between Jaxon and Colt like a battle formation.

“If there’s one thing I know, it’s how to rally people behind something worth fighting for. Lawson’s got money, but we’ve got something he doesn’t—this town, and the people in it.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.

“I’m in,” Nate Harper said, gruff but firm. “Medford’s not just a place to me. It’s home.”

More people started nodding. Voices rising.

Maybe we could do this. Maybe Lawson wasn’t as untouchable as he thought.

I just had to make sure we gave them a reason to believe we could win.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Aurora

I was running out of time.

The old grandfather clock in the corner of Page Turners might as well have been ticking just for me.

Two more days. That was all I had.

Fuck.

If I sold the bookstore, I could walk away. I could go back to the life I built for myself before all of this. Before Medford. Before the Grady brothers.

My career would be intact. No messy legal fights. No threats looming over me.

But if I stayed…

I exhaled sharply, pressing my palm against the cool glass.

If I stayed, I risked everything. The bookstore. My future. My safety.

And not just mine.

My fingers hovered over my stomach, barely touching, like I was afraid to acknowledge what I already knew. It wasn’t obvious yet, not to anyone else.

But I felt it. The smallest changes, the way my body wasn’t just mine anymore.

I had a baby to think about.

The thought sent a wave of something fierce through me. Protectiveness, maybe. Fear. Both.

I closed my eyes, trying to drown out the noise in my head.

The logical choice was to sell. Cut my losses. Take the out while I still had one.

But when I looked around the bookstore, saw the shelves my uncle had spent years curating, the notes in his messy handwriting still scribbled in the margins of his ledgers, I felt something twist in my chest.

This place had been his dream. And in some strange, impossible way, it had become mine, too.

It was almost as if The Adventures of Rosie and the Bookshop Dragon was playing for real in my head.

I’d heard about the town meeting. About Mason, standing in that town hall, fire in his eyes as he told Lawson he didn’t own this town.

About Owen, steady and certain, telling people they had to fight.

About Ethan, carrying the weight of it all, refusing to let Medford go down without a battle.

They had my back.

They believed in this town.

And, God help me, I kind of did, too.

I turned away from the window, exhaling slowly. I wasn’t ready to make a decision yet, but one thing was clear—Medford wasn’t just some stop on my way to somewhere else.

Not anymore.

I had to do something. It was time for me to act, to make this choice once and for all.

I wasn’t sure what the hell I was doing.

One second, I was standing in the bookstore, drowning in doubt. The next, I was marching across town, my boots scuffing against the sidewalk as I made my way to Beatrice Callahan’s house.

Maybe it was stupid. Maybe it was pointless. But I needed answers.

And for some reason, I had a feeling she’d give them to me now.

The last time I’d talked to Beatrice, she’d made it clear she had no interest in helping a woman who was just passing through.

And back then, she’d been right. I hadn't cared about Medford, not really.

I’d seen the bookstore as an obligation, a burden.

But things were different now. I wasn’t just here to tie up loose ends. I wasn’t just here for myself anymore.

Beatrice’s house was exactly what I expected—a tidy little blue Craftsman with perfectly trimmed hedges, like she’d personally inspected every single leaf before allowing it to stay.

I hesitated only a second before knocking.

Footsteps.

Then the door opened, and there she was.

Beatrice Callahan, still as poised as ever, though this time, her expression wasn’t quite as sharp.

“Miss Bennett.” She eyed me like I was a surprise package on her doorstep. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I swallowed my pride. “I need your help.”

Her brows lifted just slightly, like she hadn't expected that. “Do you?”

I nodded. “I know I didn’t make the best first impression.”

“That's an understatement.”

Fair enough.

I exhaled. “Look, I came into this town thinking I’d be in and out. That this store was just something to deal with. But I was wrong.”

My throat felt tight, but I pushed through it.

“My uncle left me more than just a failing business. He left me a piece of himself. A piece of this town. And I’m not ready to let Lawson take it.”

Beatrice didn’t say anything right away. She just studied me, like she was peeling back my words, searching for the truth underneath.

And then, something shifted. She stepped back, holding the door open.

“Well,” she said, “you’d better come inside.”

I let out a slow breath and walked in.

Her house was as put together as she was. Bookshelves lined the walls, everything in perfect order.

A pot of tea sat on a tray in the living room, two cups beside it.

Like she’d known I was coming. Like I would come eventually.

She gestured for me to sit, then took the armchair across from me, folding her hands in her lap. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need to know everything.”

Beatrice watched me carefully, her sharp blue eyes measuring the weight of my words.

Then, without a word, she picked up the teapot and poured two cups.

“Everything,” she repeated, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “That's a lot to ask, Miss Bennett.”

I wrapped my hands around the warm ceramic of the cup she offered me.

“Aurora,” I corrected softly. “If we’re doing this, if you're going to tell me who my uncle really was, I think we can drop the formalities.”

She studied me again, then gave a small nod. “Aurora, then.”

For a moment, she just sat there, staring at her tea like she was pulling pieces of the past from the amber liquid. Then, finally, she exhaled.

“George was always stubborn,” she said, voice quieter than I’d ever heard it. “Even as a young man, he had this idea in his head that he could fix everything, that he could shoulder burdens alone. He never wanted anyone to worry, least of all me.”

There was something in the way she said it that made me pause. It wasn’t just loyalty or admiration. It was something deeper, something old and unspoken.

I stayed quiet, letting her talk.

“He used to drive me absolutely mad,” she continued, shaking her head. “I managed the bookstore, and he was constantly coming in and messing with my systems. He’d restack shelves incorrectly, leave notes for customers that had nothing to do with their orders, and—God help me—he’d give away books for free if he thought someone needed them.”

I raised an eyebrow. “For free?”

Beatrice huffed. “Don’t look so surprised. He had a soft heart. If he saw a kid hanging around the store too long, he’d find some excuse to send them home with a book. If someone was struggling, he’d ‘accidentally’ misplace an invoice for their purchases.

“I scolded him for it constantly, told him a store couldn’t run on generosity alone.” She exhaled. “But he never listened. He’d just smile at me, that ridiculous, boyish grin of his, and say, ‘What's the point of a bookstore if it doesn’t take care of people?’”

My chest tightened. I’d never thought of my uncle that way.

I’d only ever seen the man who barely spoke to me, who kept me at arm’s length my entire life.

But in this version of him—the one Beatrice knew—he wasn’t just some eccentric shop owner drowning in debt.

He was a man who loved books, who loved this town, who cared enough about people to put them above himself.

Beatrice’s fingers traced the rim of her teacup absently. “One time, there was this woman—single mother, two kids. She was barely getting by. George let her take books whenever she wanted, said it was an investment in the kids’ future. I told him he was going to run us out of business.” She let out a soft laugh. “And you know what he said?”

I shook my head.

“He said, ‘Bea, I’d rather go broke doing something good than be rich with nothing worth remembering.’”

Beatrice went quiet for a long moment, her gaze distant.

The way she breathed her own nickname—Bea—I knew then.

She hadn't just loved him as a friend. She had loved him.

I swallowed hard. “Why didn’t you two ever, you know?”

She blinked, looking at me like she was surprised I’d asked. Then she smiled, small and sad.

“Some loves aren’t meant for the world to see,” she said simply.

I understood that more than I wanted to.

Beatrice set her cup down carefully, her fingers lingering on the porcelain like she was holding onto something more than just a teacup.

“Hank Lawson wasn’t the first of his family to sink his claws into this town,” she said, her voice measured, careful. “His father, Walter Lawson, was a thorn in George’s side for decades. Always had his hands in things he shouldn’t. Always looking for ways to twist Medford into something he could own outright.”

I leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

Beatrice exhaled, shaking her head. “Your uncle never told me the full story. But he used to say that Walter Lawson wanted to ruin this town and take advantage of everyone in it. Their debts, their businesses, their homes. The bookstore.” She hesitated. “The bookstore was always in his sights. And George knew it.”

My fingers tightened around my cup. “But why? Why a little bookstore when there were bigger businesses to take over?”

She gave me a long look. “That's the question, isn’t it?”

Something cold slithered through me.

Beatrice continued, “I never could get him to tell me outright. But I know this, whatever George was protecting, it’s still here. That's why Hank Lawson is so desperate to get his hands on it now.”

I swallowed. “What do you think it is?”

She hesitated, as if she were considering whether or not to say the next words out loud. And then, finally, she said, “That safe in the back office.”

The air left my lungs. What safe?

I stared at her, my mind scrambling.

“Beatrice,” I shook my head. “There’s no safe in the office.”

Her brow furrowed. “Of course there is.”

“No, I’ve been through everything. Every drawer, every cabinet, every…” I stopped.

I thought of the storeroom. Of how cluttered it had been when I first arrived.

Of the old wooden desk, the bookshelves, the filing cabinets and that massive, dust-covered cabinet tucked into the corner.

One I’d barely paid attention to because it had been covered in books, stacks of old receipts, and other things I had shoved out of my way.

I hadn't seen a safe.

My heart pounded.

“Beatrice,” I whispered. “I think I need to find this safe.”

Her lips pressed together, her expression unreadable.

“Then, Aurora,” she said, voice soft but firm, “you’d best find out what's inside.”

I barely remembered the walk back to Page Turners. My heart was still pounding from what Beatrice had told me.

A safe.

Something my uncle had been protecting. Maybe something related to Hank Lawson.

I pushed through the front door, heading straight to the back of the shop.

I didn’t need distractions. I needed answers.

The storeroom smelled like dust and ink, the scent of old paper thick in the air. I flicked on the overhead light, casting a dim glow over the cluttered space.

My gaze swept over the bookshelves, the filing cabinets, the stacks of forgotten ledgers. And then my eyes locked on the massive, dust-covered cabinet shoved against the far wall.

My pulse kicked up.

I strode toward it, yanking away the stacks of papers and books piled on top. My fingers found the edges, and I gave it an experimental shove.

It didn’t budge.

I tried again, harder this time.

A deep groan of wood and metal filled the air as the cabinet scraped against the floor, revealing something I hadn't noticed before. A panel behind it, barely loose at the corner.

I sucked in a breath.

Beatrice was right. There was more here.

Dropping to my knees, I pried my fingers beneath the panel and pulled. It resisted at first, as if it hadn't been moved in years, but with one final tug, it came loose.

And there it was. An old iron safe, built into the wall.

My hands shook as I reached out, running my fingers over the cool metal.

It was heavy duty, the kind of thing built to withstand time.

I swallowed hard.

This was it. This was what my uncle had been hiding.

I pressed my forehead against the safe for a second, exhaling.

Okay. Think.

The key. The old key I had found in my uncle’s desk.

The key I’d seen a copy of at Grady’s Auto Shop.

I fumbled in my pocket, my fingers closing around the small, worn key.

My pulse pounded in my ears as I slid it into the keyhole.

It fit.

I turned it.

Nothing.

Frowning, I tried again, twisting it harder.

The lock resisted, unmoving.

I exhaled sharply, pressing my palm against the safe as frustration surged through me.

The key was right, I knew it was.

But the lock, it was stiff, rusted from years of neglect.

I sat back on my heels, staring at it. Think, Aurora.

There was no way in hell I was stopping now.

I just needed to figure out what my next move would be.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Owen

Page Turners looked unlocked.

I wasn’t surprised. With everything going on, I was sure Aurora was running herself into the ground.

The fight with Hank Lawson had to be the reason I hadn't seen much of her. None of us had.

So, I stopped by The Brewed Bean on my way over and grabbed her a coffee.

When I pushed open the front door of the bookstore, the little bell above it chimed softly. The place was empty, dark except for a lamp glowing at the front counter and a single overhead light coming from the back of the store.

I knew where to find her.

“Aurora?” I called, making my way toward the storeroom.

No answer.

I stepped over a pile of books she’d left scattered near the register and kept going, the scent of old paper and ink growing stronger.

Then I heard it. A muffled grunt, followed by the scrape of something heavy shifting against the floor.

I picked up my pace.

When I reached the storeroom doorway, I stopped short.

Aurora was kneeling on the floor, hair spilling over her shoulder, her sleeves pushed up as she braced herself against a massive metal safe built into the wall.

A heavy-looking cabinet had been dragged aside, revealing a loose wooden panel behind it. Papers and books were strewn across the floor around her, like she’d torn through the room in a hurry.

I frowned. “Are you planning to rob your own bookstore?”

She startled, her head whipping toward me.

I held up the coffee in my hand. “Brought you something. Figured you could use the caffeine before your big heist.”

Aurora let out a breath, shaking her head. “Jesus, Owen. You scared the shit out of me.”

I walked in, setting the cup on a nearby table. “That makes two of us. What the hell is this?”

She exhaled, wiping a smudge of dust from her cheek as she sat back on her heels.

“A safe. I found it behind this panel.” She gestured toward the exposed wall, the heavy iron door of the safe looking as solid as the day it was installed. “It’s what the key unlocks. Although the lock isn’t budging.”

I crouched beside her, running a hand over the metal. It was old, probably hadn't been opened in a while. The hinges were thick with rust, the keyhole nearly swallowed by years of dust and grime.

“Let me try.”

Aurora handed me the key, and I slid it into the lock. It fit perfectly, but when I turned it, nothing happened.

I tightened my grip, twisting harder.

The lock barely budged.

“Damn thing’s seized up,” I muttered.

Aurora let out a frustrated sigh, sitting back against the cabinet. “Figures. The one time I actually have answers within reach, the universe decides to screw with me.”

I leaned back on my heels, thinking. “We need some WD-40. Or oil. Something to loosen it up.”

Aurora rubbed her hands over her face. “And let me guess, you just happen to have some lying around?”

I smirked. “Do you know how many rusted bolts I’ve dealt with at the shop?” I pushed to my feet. “Stay put. I'll be back.”

Aurora let out a half-laugh. “Not like I’m going anywhere.”

At the auto shop, I rummaged through the cluttered back of my truck until I found it: an old can of oil, stained and heavy with the scent of machinery and long-forgotten workdays.

Plus, I found the lock box, which contained the copy of the key that I now knew was for the Page Turners' safe.

Ethan didn’t know where else to keep it, so he’d put it back where he found it. It probably wouldn’t help, but I figured I might as well bring it with me.

Why was there a copy, anyway?

Why was it here? What did the safe have to do with us?

Back at Page Turners, Aurora was exactly where I’d left her—sitting on the floor in front of the safe, drumming her fingers on her knee, a mix of frustration and impatience written all over her face.

I set the oil can and the spare key down beside her. “Got what we need.”

She eyed the second key, brow furrowing. “Is that the other key?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “Found it at the shop. Ethan had put it back in the lockbox.”

Her frown deepened. “Why would it be there in the first place? I’m still confused about that.”

“Good question.”

One I didn’t have an answer for.

But if this safe tied into my family somehow, I needed to find out how deep that connection went.

I picked up the oil can, shaking it before carefully applying a few drops into the lock.

The scent of metal and old grease filled the air as I worked the key back and forth, letting the oil seep in. Aurora hovered beside me, silent but tense, watching my every move.

After a minute, I gave the key one last firm twist.

A low click echoed through the storeroom. Aurora sucked in a breath.

I reached for the handle, hesitating for half a second before pulling the heavy iron door open.

The hinges groaned, protesting years of neglect, but the safe gave way.

A rush of stale air hit us, carrying the scent of aged paper and something else. Something like time itself settling in dust-covered layers.

Inside, stacks of documents were arranged neatly in rows.

A few envelopes, some bound ledgers, and—at the very bottom—a thick, weathered folder marked with George Bennett’s name.

Aurora exhaled shakily. “Holy crap.”

I pulled the folder out, laying it carefully on the floor between us. My fingers brushed over the brittle edges before flipping it open.

The first few pages were financial records—bank statements, transaction logs, things that probably only made sense to an accountant. But beneath those…

I froze.

A deed.

I scanned the document, my heart hammering. It was old but clear as day.

It confirmed that Page Turners had been legally transferred to George Bennett years ago.

No loopholes, no unsettled agreements.

I glanced up at Aurora. Her face was pale, eyes wide as she read over my shoulder.

“This, this proves it,” she whispered. “Hank doesn’t have a claim.”

I flipped to the next page, my stomach tightening as I took in the official stamps, the signatures. Everything was in order.

But then, another set of documents, buried beneath the deed.

These were different.

The paper looked newer, like someone had altered something more recently.

I skimmed them, my pulse pounding.

These weren’t original records. Someone had tampered with them.

Aurora’s hand shot to her mouth.

“He forged documents,” she whispered. “He had to. He made it seem like my uncle never fully owned the bookstore. And my uncle found out.”

The implications hit me hard.

Hank Lawson had built his entire case on a lie.

But that wasn’t all. Buried in the back of the folder was another document—one that made my stomach drop.

It wasn’t just about Aurora’s uncle.

There was another name tied to all of this.

And it was ours.

I met Aurora’s eyes, my grip tightening on the page.

“Whatever this is,” I said, voice low, “it doesn’t just affect you.” I turned the paper toward her. “It affects my family, too.”

Aurora reached for the document in my hands, her fingers trembling slightly as she scanned the page.

I watched as her expression shifted. First confusion, then dawning horror.

“This,” she trailed off, flipping through the rest of the folder like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “This isn’t just about Page Turners.”

I swallowed hard, glancing at the pages now spread between us.

There were letters—old ones, yellowed at the edges—between my grandfather, Walter Grady, and George Bennett.

Financial agreements, business proposals.

And then, a letter that changed everything.

I picked it up, scanning the typed words.

Mr. Bennett,

Per our arrangement, Walter Grady has agreed to the revised terms for the property acquisition. Once the paperwork is finalized, the loan from the bank will be approved, and you will be free of your financial burden.

However, our mutual acquaintance, Mr. Lawson, has informed me of a complication. It would seem certain parties have raised concerns regarding the legitimacy of the deal. To ensure a smooth transaction, Mr. Lawson will handle the matter discreetly.

Your cooperation in keeping this matter private is expected.

Best regards,

A. Reynolds

I barely heard Aurora’s sharp inhale as the words sank in.

Reynolds. The old bank manager.

And Mr. Lawson. Hank’s father.

A slow, sick realization crept over me. “Hank’s family—his father—set them up.”

Aurora’s head snapped up, her eyes wide. “What?”

I laid out the documents.

“Look at this. This wasn’t just a bad deal. Hank’s father orchestrated the whole thing, made it look like George was in over his head financially, forced my grandfather into a position where he had no choice but to pull out. And then, when George tried to fight back…” I pointed to another letter. “They blackmailed him.”

Aurora grabbed the letter, her jaw tightening.

It was from George to Walter Grady.

Walter,

I don’t know how much longer I can keep this quiet. They have something on me, something I can’t let get out. You know the truth, but I can’t ask you to ruin your family to clear my name. Just take care of yourself, alright?

If anything happens to me, don’t let them win.

Aurora pressed a hand to her mouth.

“This is why Hank’s been after Page Turners,” I said, my voice low. “It’s not just about money or some business deal gone bad. He's trying to finish what his father started. He's rewriting history to make himself look like the town’s most powerful man.”

She stared at me, her expression unreadable.

“He blackmailed my uncle,” she whispered. “He forced him into a corner, just like Hank is trying to do now.”

Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy with the weight of the truth.

Then Aurora clenched her fists.

“We can prove it,” she said, determination sparking in her eyes. “We have to.”

I met her gaze, feeling that same fire light inside me.

Hank Lawson thought he could control this town. But he had no idea what was coming for him.

Aurora hadn't said much after we finished going through the documents.

She sat on the floor, her back against the cabinet, staring at the papers like they might rearrange themselves into something easier to understand.

Something less devastating.

I knew the feeling. But the more I looked at her, the more I saw how much this was weighing on her.

The tension in her shoulders, the tight grip she had on the letter in her lap. She was exhausted, overwhelmed, barely holding everything together.

And I wasn’t about to let her drown in it.

“We’re leaving.”

She blinked, finally looking up at me. “What?”

I stood, offering her a hand. “Come on. We’re getting out of here for the night.”

Aurora let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Owen, I can’t just leave.”

“Yes, you can.” I crouched in front of her, lowering my voice. “You need a break, Aurora. This? All of this? It'll still be here tomorrow. But you? You need to breathe. And I’m not letting you sit here all night torturing yourself over something that wasn’t your fault.”

She swallowed hard, her throat working as she glanced at the mess around us. I could tell she wanted to argue.

That she felt like she should stay, keep fighting, keep pushing herself.

But when her eyes met mine, something in her shifted.

“Where are we going?”

A small smile pulled at my lips. “You'll see.”

Thirty minutes later, we were parked on a quiet stretch of the lake outside town. The sky was dark, the stars bright against the water.

The only sounds were the soft lapping of the lake against the shore and the occasional chirp of crickets in the distance.

Aurora wrapped her arms around herself as I grabbed the blanket from the truck bed and spread it out on the ground.

“You planned this, didn’t you?” she asked, arching a brow.

I shrugged. “Let’s just say I had a feeling you’d need it.”

She sighed, glancing out over the water. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know.” I reached for her hand, tugging her down to sit beside me. “But I wanted to.”

For a while, we just sat there. I didn’t push her to talk.

Didn’t ask how she was feeling or what she was thinking.

I just let her be, let her sit in the quiet without the weight of the bookstore, the safe, or Hank Lawson pressing down on her.

Then, after a long silence, she spoke.

“I don’t know how to do this, Owen.” Her voice was quiet, tired. “I keep trying, but it feels like the second I get a grip on something, everything shifts again. I came here thinking I’d just sell the bookstore and leave.”

She let out a bitter laugh.

“Now I’m in the middle of some decades-old conspiracy that nearly destroyed your family. And my uncle, he must have been so scared to keep this secret for so long. Nancy said he was being blackmailed, but she didn’t know by whom. It has to be the Lawson family.”

I didn’t say anything. Just pulled her into my arms, letting her lean into me.

She didn’t fight it. For a long time, she just sat there, her cheek against my chest, her breathing slow and even.

And then I felt it, the slight shake of her shoulders.

A quiet sniffle.

I tightened my arms around her, resting my chin against the top of her head. “You don’t have to carry all of this on your own, Aurora.”

She didn’t answer, but her hand curled into my shirt, holding onto me like I was the only thing keeping her together.

We stayed like that until the stars blurred, until the weight in her chest seemed just a little bit lighter.

And when she finally pulled back, eyes still a little red but her breath steadier, I reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Better?” I asked softly.

She gave me a look that was part exasperation, part gratitude. “You're impossible.”

I grinned. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

She shook her head, letting out a soft laugh, and I finally saw something in her eyes that wasn’t exhaustion.

It was hope.

And I swore, right then and there, that I’d do whatever it took to keep it there.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Aurora

I woke up to the sound of water lapping against the shore. For a moment, I forgot where I was.

The air was crisp, the scent of pine and damp earth filling my lungs as I blinked against the soft morning light.

Owen’s truck was parked a few feet away, the blanket we’d laid out still tangled around me.

And then there was him… sitting nearby, coffee in hand, watching the lake like he’d been up for hours.

Memories of the night before came rushing back.

The safe. The documents. The truth about Hank’s family.

And Owen, pulling me away from all of it when I didn’t even realize how much I needed to breathe.

But something was different now.

That crushing weight? It wasn’t gone, but it wasn’t suffocating me anymore.

I sat up, stretching my sore limbs. Owen turned, his lips tilting in a small, knowing smile.

“How long have you been up?” I asked, my voice still thick with sleep.

“A while.” He offered me a cup of coffee from a Thermos, and I took it gratefully. “Didn’t want to wake you.”

I blew on the surface before taking a careful sip, the warmth seeping into me.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

“For this. For last night. For knowing I needed to get away before I did.”

His expression softened, but he didn’t say anything. He just reached over and brushed his fingers lightly against mine.

That simple touch grounded me. Reminded me of what I did have.

And of what I was fighting for.

By the time we got back to town, I felt steadier. More sure of myself than I had in days.

The documents we found changed everything.

For weeks, I’d been standing in the middle of a fight I barely understood, swinging blindly against Hank Lawson’s threats and manipulations.

But now?

I had proof. Real proof that Page Turners wasn’t his to take.

That my uncle hadn't left his affairs unsettled—at least not when it came to the ownership of the bookstore.

And that someone—Hank—had tampered with the records to serve his own agenda.

But that wasn’t all.

Hank’s vendetta wasn’t just about the bookstore. It never had been.

This had started decades ago, when his father sabotaged a deal between George Bennett and Walter Grady, trying to ruin them both in the process.

Now, Hank was just trying to finish what his family had started. But I wasn’t going to let him.

Not anymore.

With the documents tucked safely in my bag, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number my uncle had written in his address book.

Thomas Holloway. The lawyer I’d spoken to far too many times.

The call rang twice before a measured voice answered. “Holloway speaking.”

I took a deep breath. “Thomas, it’s Aurora. I need to speak with you. I found some documents that I think you should see.”

A pause. “What kind of documents?”

“The kind that prove Hank Lawson has been lying.”

“Come by my office this afternoon. I'll clear my schedule.”

I exhaled. “Thank you.”

When I hung up, my heart was still hammering, but it wasn’t from fear.

It was from something else.

Determination.

Hank Lawson had spent years trying to rewrite history. Trying to destroy what was left of my uncle’s legacy, trying to make himself the most powerful man in Medford.

But he was about to learn something very important.

I wasn’t going down without a fight.

Thomas shifted through the documents, his brow furrowed as he read in silence, all while my heart hammered loudly against my rib cage.

I was starting to fear that it was trying to break free from my body completely.

I clenched my hands in my lap, waiting.

Finally, he exhaled and leaned back. “This is significant.”

Hope sparked in my chest. “So you think we can use it?”

“Oh, absolutely.” He tapped a finger against the disputed deed. “This proves your uncle had a legal and binding agreement regarding Page Turners. If someone tampered with these records after his death, that's fraud. A serious offense.”

I let out a shaky breath, my pulse quickening. “So what happens next?”

“I'll need to review all the documents carefully. And then we file a motion with the court to challenge Hank Lawson’s claim officially,” he said, handing me back my folder and placing his copy in the first drawer of his desk. “But I think this is solid evidence, Aurora. It strengthens your position considerably.”

I nodded, my fingers gripping the armrests of my chair. For the first time, I actually had a chance.

Thomas studied me for a moment, then softened slightly. “You're doing the right thing. I knew your uncle for years—he would’ve wanted someone to fight for this place.”

Emotion tightened in my throat, but I swallowed it down. “Thank you.”

He gave me a small nod and stood, signaling the meeting was over. “I'll be in touch as soon as possible.”

I rose, shaking his hand before making my way outside.

The air was brisk, but I finally felt like I could breathe again.

It was working. I wasn’t losing Page Turners.

I wasn’t losing my uncle’s legacy.

I wasn’t.

My phone rang, and I frowned, digging it out of my coat pocket.

Daniel Parker.

For a second, relief flooded me. Finally. It had been days since I’d last spoken to them, but maybe they were checking in.

Maybe I could explain.

I pressed the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Aurora.” My boss’s voice was brisk, professional. “I’m calling with an update regarding your position.”

Something in my stomach twisted. “Of course. I⁠—”

“Your employment with us is terminated.”

The words hit like a punch to the ribs.

I stopped walking. “What?”

“We’ve been following the situation in Medford, and quite frankly, we can’t afford the bad press of an employee involved in a legal dispute. The company has a reputation to uphold.”

My head spun. “But this isn’t… I didn’t…”

“I understand this is disappointing,” he said, voice clipped, “but I also need to be honest with you. Even without the legal issues, it’s clear you won’t be returning any time soon. We need someone reliable, and you’ve been distracted.”

The finality in his tone made my stomach drop.

I had worked years for this job. Sacrificed weekends. Put in extra hours. Jumped through every hoop.

And just like that, it was gone.

“You don’t have to do this,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry, Aurora. But our decision is final.”

The line went dead.

I stood there on the sidewalk, phone still clutched in my hand, as the weight of it all came crashing down.

I had lost my job.

Everything I’d built in the city.

There was no future anymore.

I felt like I was falling, and I had no idea how to stop.

I didn’t remember walking to Hank Lawson’s office, shoving open the heavy glass door of Lawson Realty.

Anger burned through me, hot and untamed.

I’d lost my job.

And it was because of him.

Hank Lawson sat behind his oversized mahogany desk, his chair tilted back, the picture of smug confidence.

His office was just like him—expensive but soulless. Dark wood, leather chairs, a gold-plated nameplate that screamed power trip.

He didn’t look surprised to see me. In fact, he smirked.

“Aurora Bennett,” he drawled, tapping a pen against his desk. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I slammed the folder down in front of him, my pulse a roar in my ears. “Drop the act, Hank. I know what you did.”

His gaze flicked lazily to the documents before meeting mine again. “You'll have to be more specific.”

My hands curled into fists at my sides. “The safe. The real records. The actual deed to Page Turners. We both know George settled his ownership long before he died. You forged those papers, didn’t you? Had someone on the inside make sure they were altered before they were filed. Because you knew you didn’t have a real claim.”

His smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened.

“I’ve heard you always were a smart girl.” He leaned forward, steepling his fingers together. “But let’s say, hypothetically, that I did have those records tampered with. What exactly do you plan to do about it?”

I gritted my teeth. “I already met with my lawyer. We’re taking this to court.”

Hank let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Oh, sweetheart. You really think a judge is going to overturn this overnight? Legal battles take months. Years, even. And let me guess, you don’t have that kind of time, do you?”

My stomach tightened.

“I heard about your little job situation,” he went on smoothly. “Unfortunate, really. But what did you expect? No company wants to be associated with a scandal.”

The air in the room felt suffocating.

He planned this. He had known exactly what he was doing.

I clenched my jaw. “This town isn’t going to stand behind you, Hank. Not when the truth comes out.”

“Oh?” His brow lifted. “The truth? Do you think anyone in this town actually cares about your truth?”

I swallowed hard.

He leaned back in his chair, casually adjusting the cuff of his tailored suit. “See, Aurora, you're making this harder than it needs to be. You can fight me. You can go to court. You can drag this out, burn through your savings, watch Page Turners crumble under legal fees. Or you can walk away.”

I glared at him. “Not a chance.”

He sighed dramatically. “That's what I thought. Which is why I took the liberty of preparing a little insurance policy.”

I stilled.

Hank opened a drawer, pulled out a slim envelope, and slid it across the desk toward me.

I hesitated. Then, slowly, I reached for it, my fingers trembling slightly as I lifted the flap and pulled out the contents.

One look, and the blood drained from my face.

My uncle.

A letter, written in his shaky handwriting, dated just weeks before his death.

And an attached document, one that, if real, proved he had considered selling Page Turners after all.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was the signature at the bottom.

My uncle’s name—the ink slightly smudged, but unmistakable.

I looked up, my heart pounding. “You forged this.”

Hank’s smile was slow, like a predator that had just cornered its prey.

“Prove it.”

I gripped the forged document so tightly my nails nearly pierced the paper.

“You're a liar,” I spat. “My uncle would never have sold Page Turners to you.”

Hank just chuckled, slow and patronizing.

“You sure about that?” He gestured toward the letter. “Because that says otherwise. You see, your uncle wasn’t exactly the upstanding businessman you thought he was.”

My jaw clenched. “Don’t you dare talk about him.”

“Why not?” Hank leaned back, crossing one ankle over his knee like we were having a friendly conversation. “He was drowning in debt, Aurora. He ran that store into the ground, and you know it. If he hadn't died, he would’ve had to sell sooner or later.”

I shook my head, refusing to believe it. “He loved that store.”

Hank sighed, like he was dealing with a particularly slow student.

“Love doesn’t pay off loans. Love doesn’t keep the lights on.” His smirk sharpened. “Love doesn’t stop people like me from taking what's owed.”

Rage burned in my chest. “Owed? You think you're owed Page Turners?”

His eyes gleamed. “It was supposed to be mine years ago. My father had a deal, and your uncle broke it. He thought he could screw over the Lawsons and walk away unscathed. But actions have consequences.”

I slammed my hands onto his desk. “You blackmailed him, didn’t you? It was you behind all of that.”

Hank’s expression didn’t even flicker. “Let’s just say I gave him some options.”

My stomach twisted.

Shit.

This wasn’t just about money. This wasn’t just about Page Turners.

This was about power. About control.

My uncle had been stuck in Hank’s grip, backed into a corner, just like I was now.

I pointed a shaking finger at him. “You're a pathetic, power-hungry bastard who’s spent his whole life trying to destroy good people because you have nothing worth holding onto.”

Hank’s jaw twitched. “Careful.”

“Screw careful.” My voice rose, sharp and furious. “You tried to rewrite history, and you know what? You almost got away with it. But I’m not my uncle, and I’m not afraid of you.”

Hank’s mouth pressed into a thin line, his smirk slipping. “You should be.”

Before I could fire back, the office door burst open.

Two large men in security uniforms stormed in, their faces blank and professional.

“Miss Bennett,” one of them said, his deep voice eerily calm. “You need to leave.”

I let out a humorless laugh, grabbing my folder and stepping back from Hank’s desk. “Of course. Throw me out before I cause any more trouble, right?”

Hank just smiled, slow and victorious. “Smart girl.”

I turned toward the door, my blood boiling. But before I stepped out, I twisted back and leveled him with a glare.

“This isn’t over,” I said, voice shaking with fury.

Hank just waved his hand in a lazy, dismissive gesture. “Oh, Aurora. It’s already over.”

The security guards flanked me, guiding me out of the office, through the front lobby, and out onto the street. The door clicked shut behind me, sealing Hank away like the snake he was.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Ethan

I was just about to unlock my front door and finally close the world out for a while when my phone buzzed in my back pocket.

I almost ignored it.

It had been a long-ass day, one of those where nothing seemed to go right.

Mason had been swamped with repairs, Owen had disappeared halfway through the afternoon, and I’d spent most of my time handling customers who thought they knew more about cars than we did.

But something about the way the phone buzzed, a sharp, insistent vibration, made me pull it out. A text from an unknown number.

>> You should check on your shop. Now.

I frowned. What the hell was this about?

My gaze flicked to the street outside.

It was quiet, the last of the evening traffic winding down as Medford settled in for the night.

The only sounds were the distant hum of a truck passing by and the faint buzz of the old streetlamp near the curb.

Another buzz. Another message.

>> Before it’s too late.

A slow, cold unease crept up my spine. I turned on my heel and headed straight for the shop.

Medford wasn’t the kind of place where things just happened. If someone was warning me, they either knew something, or they were involved.

Either way, I wasn’t about to ignore it.

By the time I reached the shop, my gut was a tight knot.

The street was dark, save for the glow from the old lamp post.

And then I saw it.

My stomach dropped. The side entrance was wide open.

I moved fast, stepping inside, then stopped cold.

The place was trashed.

Tools were scattered across the floor, workbenches overturned. Oil had been dumped over the concrete in wide, slick pools, like someone had done it on purpose.

And the cars. Shit.

One of our clients’ vintage Mustangs had its tires slashed, deep, jagged cuts straight through the rubber. Another classic—a ’68 Camaro—had a long, deep scratch down the length of its pristine body.

I swore under my breath, fury burning through me.

And then my gaze landed on the back wall.

My pulse kicked up.

Someone had scrawled a message in thick, black paint.

CAN’T TRUST A GRADY.

I took a step back, my fists clenching.

This wasn’t just vandalism. This was a setup.

Slashed tires. Busted equipment. Expensive, high-end cars left in worse shape than when they arrived.

In a town like Medford, trust was everything. People brought us their cars because they trusted us. Because we ran a tight business.

If word got out that we’d left the shop unlocked, that expensive cars had been damaged on our watch. It could ruin us.

The Grady name was all we had. And someone was trying to destroy it.

I took a steadying breath, forcing the rage back down. This wasn’t just about the shop.

This was personal. And I had a damn good idea who was behind it.

I didn’t think. I just moved.

I was out of the shop, in my truck, and halfway to Hank Lawson’s office before the anger fully set in.

The bastard wanted a fight?

Fine.

He was getting one.

By the time I shoved through the front doors of his real estate firm, my blood was boiling.

The receptionist barely had time to look up before I stormed past her desk.

“Sir,” she started, but I ignored her, pushing straight through the heavy wooden doors into Hank’s office.

He was waiting.

The smug bastard was leaning back in his chair, a glass of whiskey in hand, as if he knew I’d come.

“Ethan,” he drawled, taking a slow sip. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

I slammed my palms onto his desk. “You think this is a game?”

Hank didn’t even flinch. He just smiled, lazy and self-assured, like he already knew how this was going to play out.

“I think it’s business,” he said smoothly. “Something you and your brothers clearly don’t understand.”

He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice.

“Medford is changing, Ethan. You either change with it, or you get left behind.”

I clenched my jaw. “You set us up.”

Hank let out a low chuckle, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Set you up? That's a bold accusation.”

He tilted his head.

“But let’s say, hypothetically, someone did vandalize your shop. Left it open. Slashed a few tires. Do you really think the town will care how it happened? Or will they just see a failing business, run by three reckless brothers who don’t take care of their clients’ cars?”

My hands curled into fists.

“If you don’t sell,” Hank continued, “the bad press will put you out of business anyway.” He smirked. “And let’s face it, the Gradys have been on thin ice for years.

“The only reason you’ve lasted this long is because people are sentimental. But once they lose faith? Once they start going to other mechanics?” He shrugged. “It’s over.”

I wanted to hit him.

Wanted to drive my fist straight through that smug expression and make him feel even a fraction of what he’d put Aurora through. What he was trying to do to my family.

But I didn’t. Because that was exactly what he wanted.

Hank wasn’t just a bully, he was a snake.

He knew how to push people just far enough, how to make them snap so he could turn around and play the victim.

That was what he’d done to George Bennett.

That was what he was still doing to Aurora.

And if I lost control now, he’d twist it.

Turn it into another story to fuel his smear campaign against us.

I forced myself to breathe. To think.

Then I saw it—the flicker of something behind his eyes.

Amusement.

Satisfaction.

Because he wasn’t just playing the long game. He’d done this before.

“Why do you think Page Turners hasn't been burned to the ground already?” he said, voice soft and venomous.

I went still.

Hank smiled, slow and deliberate, before finishing the rest of his whiskey.

“Some people don’t take well to being backed into a corner,” he mused. “They make bad decisions. Get desperate. It’s tragic, really.”

He set the glass down.

“But me?” He leaned forward, his gaze locking onto mine. “I prefer to let people destroy themselves.”

I saw red. The way he smirked, the way he clearly enjoyed this. It was like he wanted me to throw the first punch.

He wanted to bait me into doing something reckless, something he could twist in his favor.

But I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

Still, my voice came out sharp as a blade. “You're a real piece of work, you know that?”

Hank chuckled, leaning back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. “I’ve been called worse.”

“You're tormenting Aurora. You set up my shop to fail. And for what? Some power trip? This town isn’t yours, Hank.”

His smile didn’t waver.

“That's where you're wrong.” He gestured vaguely to the office around him. “Medford already belongs to me. I just haven’t collected all the pieces yet.”

I shook my head. “You think you can buy loyalty? That people are going to roll over just because you're waving a little money around?”

Hank exhaled, sounding bored.

“It’s not about money. It’s about control.” His gaze darkened. “Your family’s been in my way for decades. My father should’ve run you out of town when he had the chance.”

The words hit harder than they should have.

He stood, adjusting his jacket like he was already done with this conversation. “So here’s the deal, Ethan. You can take the easy way out—sell, cut your losses, move on—or you can be stubborn, keep fighting, and watch everything fall apart anyway.”

I let out a sharp laugh, shaking my head. “You really think you're untouchable, don’t you?”

Hank’s smirk deepened. “I know I am.”

That was it. The final push.

I took a slow step back, nodding to myself.

He thought he’d won. He thought he had everything lined up perfectly, that he’d forced us into a corner with no way out.

And maybe, a day ago, I would’ve fallen for it.

Maybe I would’ve lost my temper, let him push me into doing something I couldn’t take back.

But not now.

It was time to stop reacting. Time to start playing smarter.

I exhaled, rolling my shoulders back. “You know what, Hank? You're right.”

His smugness faltered, just a little. “Excuse me?”

“You are untouchable,” I said, keeping my voice level. “You’ve been doing this so long, people just expect you to win. It’s boring at this point.” I met his gaze, letting my own smirk form. “But you know what's not boring?”

Hank frowned.

“Watching someone like you lose.”

The amusement drained from his expression.

I turned on my heel, heading for the door before I let the anger take over again. I had to get out of there before I did something I’d regret.

But just before I stepped out, I paused in the doorway.

“And Hank?” I glanced over my shoulder. “Next time you try to destroy someone, you should probably make sure they don’t have more fight left in them.”

I didn’t wait for his response.

I walked out of that office, my heart hammering, my fists aching from how tightly I’d been clenching them.

Hank thought he was untouchable. He thought he had the upper hand.

But he had no idea what was coming next.

I was already dialing before I even hit the parking lot.

The night air was cold against my skin, but my blood was still running hot from that conversation. I could still see Hank’s smug expression, still hear the way he’d dismissed us like we were nothing more than an inconvenience.

That bastard thought he had us boxed in.

But we weren’t going down that easy.

Owen picked up. “What's up?”

“Get to the shop,” I said, heading toward my truck. “Now.”

A pause. “What happened?”

“We got set up. I'll explain when you're both here.”

Owen didn’t argue. “On my way.”

I ended the call and immediately hit Mason’s contact. He answered on the second ring.

“Ethan?”

“Need you at the shop,” I said, starting the truck. “It’s bad, Mase.”

He didn’t ask questions, just let out a sharp breath. “Be there in ten.”

I threw the truck into gear and peeled out of the parking lot, my thoughts racing just as fast as my tires.

This wasn’t just about the damage at the shop anymore.

Hank had made his move. He was putting pressure on every weak spot he could find, betting that we’d fold under the weight of it all.

But he was forgetting one thing.

We were Grady men.

And we didn’t break that easily.

By the time I pulled into the lot, Owen and Mason were already there, standing by the busted garage door.

Mason turned as I climbed out of my truck, his jaw tight. “Jesus, Ethan. What the hell happened?”

I exhaled sharply, my breath visible in the cool night air. “Somebody trashed the place.”

Owen ran a hand through his hair. “I figured that much. Who do we think did it?”

I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Who do you think?”

Understanding dawned on Mason’s face. “Hank.”

Owen swore under his breath. “That son of a bitch.”

I nodded. “Slashed tires, busted tools, spray-painted messages meant to make it look like we were reckless, like we left the place unsecured.”

Mason shook his head. “If people stop trusting us…”

“We lose everything,” I finished.

The three of us stood there for a moment, staring at the damage. The place looked like hell.

But we weren’t just gonna stand here and take it.

I straightened. “We clean this up tonight. No cops, no press. We fix what we can and figure out our next move.”

Owen cracked his knuckles. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

I met his gaze. “That it’s time to stop playing defense?”

Mason nodded, determination settling over his features. “Then let’s do this.”

Without another word, we got to work.

Hank wanted a war?

He was about to get one.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Aurora

My phone rang, the sharp vibration rattling against the counter where I’d abandoned it.

For a second, I just stared at it. I wasn’t sure I could take any bad news this early in the morning.

But the name flashing across the screen made my heart kick up.

Thomas Calloway.

I snatched it up, gripping it so tightly my knuckles ached. “Hello?”

“Aurora,” Thomas’s voice was steady, professional, but there was something lighter in his tone, “I’ve reviewed the documents you gave me.”

I held my breath.

“There’s enough here to challenge Hank’s claim in court.”

A sharp, sudden relief washed over me, like I’d been holding up a collapsing building and someone had finally taken some of the weight.

I braced myself against the counter. “You're sure?”

“Positive.” I heard papers rustling on his end. “The deed, the financial records, the letters—everything points to tampering after your uncle’s death. If we file an injunction, we can put a stop to Hank’s claim before he gets any further. It won’t be easy, but you’ve got a real shot here.”

A real shot.

I sagged against the counter, pressing my hand over my eyes. “Thank you, Thomas. You have no idea how much this means.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “This fight isn’t over. But at least now, you’ve got a weapon.”

A weapon. That was exactly what this was.

I ended the call, gripping my phone so tightly my fingers trembled.

This was a win. A small one, but still a win.

And yet I still felt like I was falling.

I turned and caught sight of my reflection in the window.

My face was pale, dark circles under my eyes from too many nights spent awake, running through every worst-case scenario.

I had nothing now. No job. No safety net. I wouldn't be able to keep my apartment in the city for much longer, not without draining my savings.

And what would be the point?

My boss had made sure I wouldn’t find another marketing position anytime soon. The industry was too connected, too ruthless.

One bad whisper—one hint that I was a liability—and I was done.

And I was a liability now.

I wasn’t the woman who had everything under control anymore. I wasn’t the polished, professional strategist who had her whole life mapped out.

I pressed a fist against my stomach, swallowing hard.

What was I supposed to do now? Who was I without the career I’d spent years building?

I glanced down at my phone, still gripped in my shaking hand.

A court case was coming. A battle for Page Turners.

And beyond that?

I had no idea what came next.

I needed air.

Actually, I needed them.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed my coat and keys, shoving my phone into my pocket.

The auto shop wasn’t too far—just a short walk through the quiet streets of Medford—but my legs felt heavy, my body drained from everything.

Still, I kept moving. Because I was done hiding.

The shop came into view, and my steps slowed.

Even in the dim evening light, I could see there was damage. Not lots, but enough to know that something had happened.

Something bad.

My stomach twisted.

I hadn't seen them since everything happened. Since Hank, since I lost my job, since I found out about the baby.

I had been avoiding them, locking myself away in my own head, drowning under the weight of everything. But I couldn’t keep doing this alone.

I stepped inside to find Ethan, Owen, and Mason gathered around a workbench, low voices rumbling in tense conversation.

They all looked up when I entered, their expressions shifting from frustration to something softer.

“Aurora.”

Owen was the first to move, stepping toward me with a cautious sort of urgency, like he wasn’t sure if I was okay.

I wasn’t sure either.

I let out a breath. “I needed to see you guys.”

Ethan crossed his arms, eyes scanning my face. “What happened?”

I swallowed. “I talked to Thomas.”

That got their full attention.

I shifted, feeling the weight of their stares. “There’s enough evidence to fight Hank in court. He doesn’t have a real claim to Page Turners.”

A beat of silence.

Then Mason let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair. “Holy shit.”

Ethan exhaled through his nose, his jaw tight. “So we have a way to stop him.”

I nodded. “It’s not over yet, but it’s something.”

Owen studied me for a long moment, like he could see past the words, past the thin layer of control I was clinging to.

He took another step closer. “And what about you?”

The question hit somewhere deep. I opened my mouth, then shut it again.

What about me?

I had spent so much time fighting, clawing for control, grasping at anything that would keep me from completely unraveling.

But right now, standing here in the shop with them, my hands cold, my body exhausted, I didn’t have the strength to pretend anymore.

My throat tightened. I looked away, focused on a patch of grease-stained concrete beneath my feet.

“I lost my job.”

Silence. I forced a shaky breath.

“They fired me. Said they didn’t want to be associated with someone in a legal dispute.” A bitter laugh escaped before I could stop it. “And since the marketing world is a damn shark tank, I’m probably blacklisted now.”

Owen muttered something under his breath. Ethan’s jaw flexed, his fingers curling into fists. Mason let out a low curse.

I didn’t even realize I was shaking until Owen stepped closer, his warmth grounding me. “Aurora.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” The words cracked, the floodgates breaking open. “I spent years building my career, making all the right choices, climbing the ladder, and now it’s just gone. I know I’ve been a little torn, but having everything taken from me…”

A tear slipped down my cheek. I swiped at it quickly, as if that would somehow stop the rest from falling.

“I don’t have a plan. I don’t have a backup. This was never supposed to happen.”

Mason looked like he wanted to hit something. “So they’re just throwing you away? After everything?”

I let out a hollow laugh. “That's how it works. One bad headline. One wrong move. And you're done.”

The weight of it all came crashing down.

The job. The bookstore. The baby.

I had no guarantee that any of it would work out.

And yet, I had them.

Owen reached for my hand, threading his fingers through mine. His grip was warm, steady, unshakable.

Ethan exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face before leveling me with a look that was pure determination. “Then screw them.”

I blinked. “What?”

“If they don’t want you, then they don’t deserve you.” His voice was firm, unwavering. “That world was never good enough for you anyway.”

Mason nodded, his usual smirk gone. “You don’t need them, Aurora. You’ve got something real here.”

Owen squeezed my hand. “We'll figure it out.”

I sucked in a breath, my chest tight. They made it sound so easy. So simple.

But it wasn’t simple. It was terrifying.

Still, standing here with them, with their unwavering belief in me, I didn’t feel so lost.

I wiped at my eyes, letting out a shaky laugh. “You guys are really bad at pep talks, you know that?”

Mason smirked. “You're still standing here, aren’t you?”

I let out a breath.

Yeah. I was.

And maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t falling anymore.

Owen squeezed my hand, a slow grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well, if marketing doesn’t want you, I guess that just means more time for The Adventures of Rosie and the Bookshop Dragon.”

I blinked at him.

He shrugged. “It needs a sequel.”

Mason cocked his head curiously to one side. “Huh?”

“Aurora’s book,” Owen countered. “Her uncle kept a copy in the store all these years.”

Ethan nodded, dead serious. “That sounds epic. I want to read it.”

A surprised laugh burst out of me, unsteady but real.

They were joking, but something about Owen’s words settled deep in my chest. My heart pounded.

I had spent years chasing stability, prestige, control. I had poured everything into building a career I thought would keep me safe, keep me successful.

Yet I had always wanted something else, hadn't I?

“I did always want to be a writer,” I murmured. “Before marketing got its claws in me.”

Ethan tilted his head. “So what stopped you?”

I chewed my lip, looking down at the grease-streaked floor. “Fear, mostly. It felt too risky. Too unstable. I wanted something I could rely on, something that wouldn’t leave me wondering where my next paycheck would come from.”

Mason nodded. “Makes sense.”

Owen’s voice was softer when he spoke. “But now?”

I looked at them—the three men who had somehow become my constants, the ones who had pulled me out of the wreckage of my carefully planned life.

And I thought about the bookstore. The place that had once felt like a burden but now felt like something else.

Maybe something more.

I took a shaky breath. “Now, I don’t know. But maybe the bookstore isn’t the worst idea. If I can keep it.”

Ethan smirked. “When you keep it.”

Owen nodded. “Damn right.”

Mason grinned. “And when you do, we’re expecting at least three sequels.”

I laughed, shaking my head.

I was no longer just fighting to hold on to something. I was fighting for something I wanted.

I was so caught up in the emotion of the moment that the words slipped out before I could stop them.

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

The kind that stretched and thickened, wrapping around me like a vise.

My pulse thundered in my ears; my breath hitched in my throat.

I hadn't meant to say it. Not like this.

Not in the middle of an auto shop, surrounded by the scent of motor oil and metal, with my body still trembling from the weight of everything else I’d just admitted.

But there it was. Out in the open.

Owen was the first to react.

His hand, still wrapped around mine, tightened, his fingers pressing against my skin like he was grounding himself in the moment.

His lips parted, like he wanted to say something, but no words came.

Mason let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair. “Whoa.”

Ethan, ever the steady one, just stared at me, unreadable. His jaw flexed, his nostrils flaring slightly like he was trying to keep his emotions in check.

“You're sure?”

I let out a breathy, nervous laugh. “Pretty damn sure.”

Another beat of silence.

Then, all at once, their expressions cracked open, shock melting into something softer.

Owen exhaled, blinking rapidly like he was trying to process it.

Then, to my utter surprise, his lips curved into the widest grin I’d ever seen on him. “We’re having a baby?”

We.

Something inside me cracked at that word.

I nodded, my throat tight.

And then Mason was moving, letting out a breathy laugh as he surged forward and pulled me into a tight hug.

“Holy shit,” he said again, this time with something like awe. “Aurora.”

Ethan still hadn't moved, his arms crossed, his brow furrowed, but there was something in his eyes. Something deep and raw that struck me damn hard.

“And you didn’t tell us sooner because?”

I huffed out a breath, overwhelmed.

“Because I’ve been drowning in everything else? Because I just lost my job? Because I’m fighting to keep the bookstore, and I had no idea how to deal with this on top of all of it?” My voice cracked slightly, and Mason’s arms around me tightened. “And because I was scared.”

Owen shook his head, his expression filled with something so warm, so steady, it nearly broke me. “Aurora, you're not doing this alone.”

Ethan finally moved then.

He stepped closer, reaching out, his palm settling over the small of my back in a wordless show of reassurance.

“Come on,” Mason said, stepping back but keeping one hand on my arm. “Let’s get out of here. We need to talk, and I don’t feel like doing it under these damn fluorescent lights.”

Owen nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go to Mason’s.”

I hesitated. “Are you sure?”

Mason rolled his eyes. “Aurora, we just found out we’re having a kid. Pretty sure that warrants a sit-down conversation. And maybe a drink.”

Owen shot him a look. “Not for Aurora.”

“Obviously not for Aurora,” Mason deadpanned.

Ethan exhaled, then nodded. “Let’s go.”

And just like that, they were ushering me out of the shop, into the cold Medford night, toward something new.

Something terrifying.

Something that didn’t feel so impossible anymore.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Aurora

Mason’s place was warm, the heat kicking on as we stepped inside, chasing away the chill that clung to my skin.

The door clicked shut behind us, sealing us in, and for a moment, all I could hear was my own breath. Shaky, unsteady, too fast.

I barely had time to take in my surroundings before Owen moved.

One second, I was standing in the middle of Mason’s living room, and the next, Owen’s hands were cupping my face, his lips crashing into mine with a desperation that stole my breath.

I gasped, my fingers curling into his shirt, but he didn’t let up.

His kiss was deep, claiming, like he had been holding back for weeks and was finally letting go.

And maybe he had been.

Maybe we all had been.

When Owen finally pulled away, his forehead pressed against mine, his breath warm against my lips.

“You should have told us sooner,” he murmured, voice rough. “But we’re here now. And we’re not going anywhere. This is the best news.”

A shiver rolled through me, something between relief and anticipation.

Before I could respond, strong hands gripped my waist, pulling me back against a solid chest.

Mason.

His lips ghosted over the curve of my neck, his breath sending tingles across my skin.

“You drive me insane, Aurora,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent heat pooling in my stomach. “But fuck if I don’t love it.”

My pulse pounded as he nipped at the spot just below my ear, his fingers tightening against my hips.

Ethan was still watching, standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable. But there was something dark and intense in his eyes and filled with need.

Mason’s teeth scraped against my neck, and I let out a shaky breath, my body melting into his.

Then Ethan moved.

He closed the distance between us in two strides, reaching for my chin and tilting my head up. His lips were firm, slow—he took his time as he kissed me.

My head spun, my body caught between them, the warmth of their hands, their mouths, their whispered words against my skin.

Owen’s fingers tangled in my hair. Mason’s grip tightened on my hips. Ethan’s lips were a steady, consuming force.

I had spent weeks drowning in fear, in uncertainty, in everything I thought I was losing.

But right now, in their arms, I wasn’t lost.

I was found.

Heat.

Breath.

The slow, steady burn of hands roaming over my skin, mouths staking their claim, the weight of their bodies pressing into mine.

I was drowning in them, in the sheer force of their hunger, in the way they surrounded me. Owen’s hands tangled in my hair, Mason’s grip firm on my hips, Ethan’s mouth devouring mine like he needed to brand himself onto me.

A low, rough growl rumbled from Mason as he pressed himself against my back, his hands sliding beneath my shirt, fingertips teasing along my stomach, higher.

His touch was a slow, deliberate torment.

“You have no idea what you do to us,” he rasped against my ear, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

Owen tilted my head back, his lips tracing down my throat, sucking just hard enough to leave a mark.

“We’re going to ruin you tonight,” he murmured against my skin. “Make you forget everything except us.”

Ethan’s fingers worked the buttons of my blouse, slipping them open one by one, his knuckles dragging over my exposed skin, setting every nerve ending on fire.

Mason’s grip tightened, his palm splaying across my stomach, holding me in place.

“Bedroom,” he ordered, his voice low, rough with need.

I barely had time to register the command before Owen scooped me up, carrying me effortlessly.

The air in the bedroom was thick with anticipation, my pulse hammering as Ethan tugged my blouse down my arms, his lips following the path of exposed skin.

Mason’s hands were already working at my jeans, peeling them down my thighs, his breath warm against my hip.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he murmured, his fingers sliding between my legs, teasing, pressing just enough to make me gasp.

Owen’s mouth was at my ear, his voice a dark promise. “No holding back tonight, Aurora.”

Ethan’s fingers found my wrists, guiding them above my head, and before I could process it, the cool pressure of his belt wrapped around them, securing them together.

The leather was firm, unrelenting, a stark contrast to the heat of their hands, their mouths. This was more intense than the silk ties.

Mason’s lips curled into a slow, wicked smirk as he watched me test the restraint.

Owen’s hands skimmed down my sides, his mouth following, trailing hot kisses across my stomach, lower.

Ethan’s breath ghosted over my throat as he whispered, “You really are too much, Aurora.”

Mason’s hands gripped my thighs, spreading me wider, his gaze dark and possessive. “Yeah, you're everything.”

I tested the restraint again, the smooth leather of Ethan’s belt firm against my wrists, my breath hitching at the sheer vulnerability of it.

They had me—completely, unshakably—and I could feel it in the way their hands explored, claimed, demanded.

Mason’s grip tightened around my thighs, his mouth hovering just above my skin, teasing me with the ghost of his breath.

His dark eyes flicked up to mine, and his smirk deepened as he took in my helpless state.

“Look at you,” he murmured, dragging his tongue along the sensitive curve of my hip. “So fucking perfect like this.”

Owen pressed a kiss to my lips, slow and deep, his fingers threading through my hair as Ethan traced a slow, deliberate path down my body.

Every touch was fire, every movement pushing me closer to the edge before pulling me back, keeping me right on the cusp of madness.

They had me. Completely at their mercy.

And I loved it.

Mason’s fingers trailed over my parted thighs, barely there, teasing me with the lightest brush of his knuckles against my aching center.

My hips lifted involuntarily, chasing his touch, but he pulled back with a wicked smirk.

“Not yet, babe.”

Owen’s hands were in my hair, tilting my head back so he could devour my mouth, his kiss deep and unrelenting.

His other hand skimmed down my body, pausing just below my ribs, fingers spreading possessively over my stomach.

“You'll come when we say,” he murmured against my lips, his voice thick with promise.

Ethan chuckled from where he kneeled at the foot of the bed, his callused palms sliding up my calves, over my knees, pushing my legs further apart.

“Mmm, the scent of you,” he rasped, dragging his knuckles along the inside of my thigh, watching as I trembled. “Already soaked, already desperate. You need this, don’t you?”

I whimpered, my body tightening at the sound of his voice, the weight of their gazes.

Mason’s fingers slipped lower, ghosting over my clit, nothing more than a tease.

“Say it,” he demanded, his grip tightening on my thigh. “Tell us exactly what you want.”

The words stuck in my throat, my head spinning from their touches, from the sheer intensity of the moment.

Ethan’s mouth curved into a slow, knowing smirk. “Looks like we'll have to pull it out of you.”

Owen’s fingers gripped my chin, forcing my gaze to his. “We can take our time, baby. We can make you beg.”

I whimpered, my thighs trembling. “Please.”

Mason rewarded me with a single stroke, just enough to send a jolt of pleasure through my core before pulling away again.

I gasped, frustration coiling tight in my belly.

Ethan hummed. “Not good enough.”

Mason traced a finger down the seam of my slick heat, teasing my entrance before retreating once more. “Try again.”

My breath hitched. My entire body was on fire, strung so tight I thought I might snap.

“I need you,” I gasped. “Please…just…”

Owen’s thumb brushed over my bottom lip. “Tell us exactly what you want, Aurora.”

My restraint frayed, my need overwhelming. “I need your mouths, your fingers, your cocks. I need to come, over and over, until I can’t think anymore. Please.”

A low, satisfied growl rumbled from Mason’s chest. “That's more like it.”

Ethan was the first to move, spreading me wide, his mouth descending on me with slow, devastating precision.

His tongue traced wicked patterns over my clit, alternating between teasing flicks and firm, unrelenting pressure.

I cried out, my body jolting, but Mason’s hands pressed my hips down, keeping me exactly where they wanted me.

Owen’s mouth traced the column of my throat, his teeth scraping just enough to make me shudder. “You really do smell delicious.”

Ethan groaned against me, his tongue delving deep, his fingers joining the torment, sliding inside me with slow, curling strokes that sent me spiraling higher.

My head tipped back, a strangled moan breaking free. “Oh, God.”

Mason’s thumb brushed my nipple, pinching just enough to make my back arch. “You're gonna give us every last drop, sweetheart.”

Owen pressed a kiss to my temple, his voice dark, commanding. “Come for us.”

And I did.

The pleasure hit like a tidal wave, my body tightening, shaking, the belt biting into my wrists as I pulled against it.

Ethan didn’t stop, his tongue ruthless, dragging out my orgasm until I was a trembling, whimpering mess beneath them.

Before I could catch my breath, Mason was shifting lower, his hands gripping my thighs as he replaced Ethan, his mouth pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to my oversensitive skin.

I shuddered, gasping. “I can’t.”

“You can.” Owen’s fingers tangled in my hair, his voice pure sin. “And you will.”

Ethan smirked, watching as Mason licked into me with slow, agonizing strokes. “We’re not stopping until you're wrecked.”

I whimpered, pleasure twisting sharp and unbearable, but the restraint, the intensity, the sheer hunger in their eyes—it was everything.

Mason groaned against me, his tongue flicking over my clit with devastating precision. “Gonna make you scream, babe.”

Owen’s lips brushed against my ear. “Loud enough for the whole damn town to hear.”

Ethan chuckled, his fingers curling around my throat in a loose grip as he watched me unravel beneath them. “And then we’re gonna do it all over again.”

My body was still trembling, oversensitive and weak from the waves of pleasure they had wrung from me, but they weren’t done.

Not even close.

The belt was gone, my wrists free. But they weren’t letting me go.

Owen’s hands were on me first, flipping me onto my stomach with a roughness that made me gasp.

Mason’s palm pressed between my shoulder blades, keeping me down, the weight of him making me shiver.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice dark with promise. “But we’re just getting started.”

Ethan’s fingers traced down my spine, slow and possessive, following the path of his mouth as he kissed down my back. My body arched instinctively, craving more, but Mason’s grip kept me pinned.

“Look at her,” Ethan murmured, his voice filled with something dangerously close to reverence. “So fucking perfect like this.”

I turned my head, catching Owen’s gaze.

His eyes burned, his jaw tight as he unbuckled his belt, the sound making my breath catch.

Mason’s lips brushed my ear. “You ready to be ours, sweetheart?”

I whimpered, my body aching for them, my mind already lost in them. “Yes.”

Owen’s chuckle was dark, full of wicked intent. “Then open that pretty mouth.”

Heat curled low in my stomach at the sheer command in his voice.

I obeyed without hesitation, parting my lips as he stroked his thumb over them, his cock hard and heavy in his grip.

“That's it,” he murmured. “Holy hell, Aurora.”

Behind me, Ethan’s hands gripped my hips, dragging me up onto my knees.

The shift sent a thrill through me. Completely exposed, completely theirs.

I felt Ethan’s hands tighten on my hips, his thumbs digging into my skin as he spread me open for him.

Mason was still watching. Still stroking himself, his breath coming in slow, controlled drags that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Fuck,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on where Ethan lined himself up behind me. “Look at you, spread out and ready for him.”

I whimpered again, my body trembling in anticipation.

Owen ran his thumb along my bottom lip, his other hand gripping his cock, teasing the tip along my mouth.

“You know what to do, baby,” he murmured, his voice rough with need.

I parted my lips, taking him in, hollowing my cheeks as I sucked him deep.

Owen let out a strangled groan, his hand tightening in my hair. “That's it. Take me just like that.”

Behind me, Ethan pushed inside, slow and steady, stretching me, filling me.

I moaned around Owen, my body clenching as Ethan groaned, his grip on my hips turning bruising.

“So fucking tight,” he ground out, his voice ragged. “You feel incredible, sweetheart.”

Mason exhaled roughly, his strokes slowing as he watched.

I glanced at him through heavy-lidded eyes, my breath catching at the way he looked at me. Hungry, possessive, absolutely wrecked.

But still holding back.

Still waiting.

Ethan thrust deeper, pulling a sharp gasp from my lips, my body trembling as pleasure coiled hot and heavy in my stomach.

Owen hissed at the vibration, his jaw clenched as he fought to hold back.

“Shit, baby. Just like that.” His hips flexed, shallow thrusts meeting the rhythm of my tongue, the sound of his pleasure mixing with Ethan’s deep, broken groans.

Mason let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You two are gonna come too fast.”

Ethan’s breath was ragged, his fingers digging into my waist as he pounded into me, deeper, harder, his control fraying.

Owen’s hand tightened in my hair, his movements growing erratic.

He was close. I could feel it in the way his cock twitched against my tongue, in the way his breath came in short, harsh pants.

But he wasn’t going to be the first to break.

Mason knew it, too.

With a smirk, he moved. I barely had time to react before he was behind me, his fingers gripping my chin, tilting my head back.

His dark eyes locked onto mine as he stroked himself, slow and measured, teasing himself as much as me.

“You gonna be a good girl and come for us again?”

I moaned, my body already teetering on the edge.

Ethan’s thrusts turned punishing, relentless, his fingers finding my clit, pressing in slow, tight circles that sent sparks through my veins.

Mason groaned, his grip tightening on my chin. “That's it, baby. Let go.”

Owen’s hips snapped forward one last time, his breath shattering as he spilled into my mouth, a guttural groan ripping from his throat.

The taste of him, the heat of Ethan still driving into me, the low, dark growl from Mason as he watched. It was too much.

I shattered, my body locking up, pleasure consuming me in wave after endless wave.

Ethan cursed, his rhythm breaking as he followed, his hips stuttering, his moan dark and wrecked as he found his release.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was our harsh, ragged breathing. Then Mason’s fingers slid into my hair, tugging my head back just enough to meet his gaze.

His lips curled into a slow, wicked smile.

“You're not done yet, sweetheart.”

He shifted, pushing me onto my back, his body covering mine in an instant.

“You took them so well,” he murmured, his cock teasing at my entrance, still hard, still aching.

His breath fanned against my lips as he lined himself up, pressing just the tip inside, just enough to make me squirm.

“You ready for me?”

I groaned, arching into him. “Please.”

Mason’s grin was dark, victorious.

“That's my girl.”

And then he thrust deep.

And I was his.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Mason

I’ve never been good at waiting. Patience was Ethan’s thing, not mine.

Me? I needed to move, to do something, to fix things with my own two hands.

But right now, all I could do was stand here in the sheriff’s office, feeling like a damn caged animal, while Davis and Hall sat behind their desks, looking like they had the weight of the world on their shoulders.

“We got him,” Davis said.

Two simple words, but they hit me like a punch to the gut.

“Hank?” I asked, my voice low, tight.

Hall nodded and turned the laptop around. “Yeah. We finally got the footage we needed.”

I stepped forward, my hands braced on the desk, my pulse hammering.

The screen flickered with grainy black and white footage from some security camera. A hooded figure moved through the frame, methodical, deliberate.

Even in the shitty resolution, I could see the destruction—windows smashed, spray paint dripping from the walls, chaos left in his wake.

Then it happened.

A flicker of light. A gust of wind.

And for a fraction of a second, the hood slipped back.

Hank Lawson’s face stared right into the camera.

A slow, burning heat spread through my chest, my fingers curling into fists.

“That's all we need for a warrant,” Davis said. “Judge is signing off on it now. By tonight, Hank’s gonna be in cuffs.”

I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through my hair.

This should’ve felt like relief. Hell, it should’ve felt like a win.

But instead, all I could think about was Aurora. Everything she’d fought for, everything she still had to lose.

“Hank’s not gonna go down easy,” I muttered. “He's a cockroach. You crush him, he finds a way to crawl out.”

Hall leaned back in his chair. “We’re not taking chances. We wanted you to know first.”

That meant something.

Not just because they were my friends, but because they knew how much this mattered to me, to Ethan and Owen, to Aurora. To all of us.

I nodded. “Appreciate it.”

Davis stood, his expression serious. “Be careful, Mason. Hank’s cornered. And a cornered man is a dangerous one.”

I met his gaze, my jaw tightening. “Yeah,” I said. “So am I.”

Then I turned and walked out, my mind already racing. For the first time in a long damn while, I saw a way out.

Justice was coming. And I was gonna make damn sure of it.

By the time I made it to Lucky’s, I was seeing red.

The place was packed. Friday night crowd, locals nursing beers, a few tourists passing through.

The usual hum of conversation filled the air, but the second I stepped inside, people turned.

Maybe it was the way I was walking, all clenched fists and raw fury, or maybe they could just feel something was about to go down.

And Hank Lawson?

He was right where I expected him to be, sitting at the corner table like he owned the place.

A couple of his usual cronies surrounded him, but they weren’t laughing and drinking like normal.

They were tense. They knew.

Hank lifted his whiskey glass, giving me that smug, condescending smirk he always wore when he thought he was untouchable.

“Something on your mind, Grady?”

The whole bar went quiet. Even the bartender stopped pouring.

I didn’t stop until I was standing right in front of him, my shadow falling over his table.

“You vandalized my shop.” My voice was steady, but barely. “You trashed Aurora’s bookstore.”

Hank set his glass down with a clink. “You got proof of that?”

I let out a sharp laugh. “Yeah, Hank. We do.”

Davis and Hall had told me to let them handle it, to let the warrant do the talking, but I wasn’t built like that.

This wasn’t just about justice. It was about standing up in front of the people Hank had bullied, bought off, and manipulated for years—and telling him, to his face, that his time was up.

I turned, glancing around the bar.

“Some of you still think Hank’s got this town in his pocket,” I said, my voice carrying through the room. “But I’ve got news for you. His money doesn’t mean a damn thing when he's sitting in a jail cell.”

Hank’s smirk faltered just slightly.

“We’ve got footage,” I continued. “Clear as day. Hank, under his little disguise, tearing through this town like a coward. You wanted to ruin us? You wanted to push us out?” I took a step closer, lowering my voice. “You lost.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. People shifted, eyes darting to one another, to Hank, to me.

The hold he had on this town had been slipping for a while now, but this?

This was the final nail in the coffin.

Hank scoffed, forcing a laugh. “You're full of shit, Grady.”

But his voice lacked its usual confidence.

He glanced toward the door like he was already planning his exit.

I shook my head. “You can lie all you want. Won’t change the fact that the sheriff’s got a warrant with your name on it. Won’t change the fact that everyone in this town is finally seeing you for what you are—a desperate, washed-up billionaire who thought he could buy his way into power.”

A voice rang out from the back of the bar. “Damn right!”

That was enough.

The crowd shifted, people nodding, muttering in agreement.

“You think you own us, Hank?” I gestured around the room. “Look around. This town doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to the people in it.”

My gaze swept over the familiar faces—shop owners, farmers, mechanics, parents, kids who’d grown up here just like me.

“And we’re done letting you run it into the ground,” I finished.

A murmur of agreement turned into a chorus. People started standing, stepping forward.

Hank’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t over,” he snarled, standing up so fast his chair scraped against the floor.

I tilted my head. “Yeah, it is.”

A beat passed.

Then the doors swung open, and in walked Davis and Hall, badges flashing, eyes locked on Hank.

Perfect timing, and they didn’t even know it.

The bar went dead silent.

Hank turned to run, but I stepped into his path.

“Where you going?” I asked, smiling just a little.

Davis reached for his cuffs. “Hank Lawson, you're under arrest.”

Hank’s gaze darted toward the door, toward Davis and Hall advancing with slow, measured steps.

The crowd tensed. The whole damn bar felt like it was holding its breath.

“You can’t do this,” Hank barked, his voice sharp, cracking at the edges. “I own half this town!”

I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Not anymore.”

Davis didn’t hesitate, stepping right up to him. “Hank Lawson, you're under arrest for vandalism, destruction of property, and harassment.”

He rattled off a list of other charges, but Hank barely heard him. His face had gone red, veins bulging at his temples.

“This is bullshit!” Hank twisted, trying to shove past me, but I stepped in his way.

He grabbed the front of my shirt.

“You think you’ve won?” Spit flew as he snarled, eyes wild. “You think some little video changes anything? I make the rules in this town.”

I leaned in, close enough that only he could hear.

“Not anymore.” Then, louder, “You're done, Hank.”

And just like that, Davis grabbed his arm, yanking him back, twisting him around.

The metallic click of the handcuffs snapping into place was the sweetest damn sound I’d ever heard.

Hank let out a guttural growl, thrashing, but Hall was already there, pushing him toward the door.

I reached into my pocket, pulling out my phone, and tapped the screen.

The call rang twice before Ethan picked up. “Mason? What's…”

I flipped the camera around. “Say goodbye to Hank.”

Ethan and Owen’s faces filled the screen, eyes narrowing as they took in the scene.

The bar. The crowd. Hank, being shoved through the door, wrists bound, shouting like a rabid dog backed into a corner.

Owen let out a low whistle. “Well, damn.”

Ethan smirked, slow and satisfied. “About time.”

I turned the camera back to myself, my grip tightening around the phone.

“It’s over,” I said, my voice rough with something I hadn't let myself feel in a long time.

Relief.

Final, undeniable relief.

Ethan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Aurora?”

“She doesn’t know yet,” I admitted. “But I can’t wait to tell her.”

Owen grinned. “Oh hell ya, she's going to love it.”

The call ended, but I barely noticed. The crowd at Lucky’s had started to ease, the energy shifting from tense to something lighter.

People were talking, shaking hands, even clapping me on the shoulder as I walked through.

Hank’s grip on this town was broken, and the future didn’t feel like a fight.

It felt like ours.

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.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Owen

The house was finally starting to feel like home.

It had been weeks since we moved in, but I still wasn’t used to it.

The space. The quiet.

The way it felt to wake up every morning knowing that this—this—was our life now.

I leaned against the kitchen counter, a mug of coffee in my hands, watching as Aurora sat on the couch, barefoot, her legs curled up beneath her.

Her laptop balanced on one knee, a book open beside her, and one hand absently rubbing her growing belly.

It was hard to believe how much had changed in such a short time.

For so long, it had felt like we were fighting just to keep our heads above water. Fighting for the garage, for the bookstore, for this town.

Fighting for her.

Now? Now, we had this.

I didn’t know what to do with peace. It wasn’t something I was used to.

But watching Aurora in the soft morning light, her hair loose around her shoulders and her body comfortably settled into our home, I realized something.

Peace wasn’t so bad when you had the right people to share it with.

Mason strolled in from the hallway, stretching like he’d just rolled out of bed.

He snagged a piece of toast from Aurora’s plate, grinning when she swatted at his arm.

“Morning, babe,” he said, voice still rough with sleep.

Aurora didn’t look up from her laptop. “It was a good morning until someone stole my breakfast.”

Mason just smirked, leaning down to kiss the top of her head before flopping onto the couch beside her.

Ethan walked in a second later, already dressed for the day, phone in hand. “Hall just texted. Hank’s officially signed the paperwork to sell his remaining properties. He's out of Medford for good.”

Aurora glanced up, blinking in surprise. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Ethan’s lips twitched, the closest thing to a smile he gave when he wasn’t being smug about something.

Mason let out a low whistle. “Damn. Should’ve thrown a party.”

I took a sip of my coffee, considering that. “He never would’ve come.”

Mason grinned. “Yeah, but it’d be fun to celebrate his downfall without him.”

Aurora laughed, shaking her head. “I still can’t believe it’s over.”

Neither could I, really.

The fight had been everything for so long. Now, we were here.

Living.

Aurora shifted on the couch, stretching, and the oversized sweatshirt she was wearing slid up just enough to reveal the curve of her belly.

Mason noticed it first.

His smirk softened as he reached over, resting his palm against her bump. “Getting bigger, huh?”

Aurora huffed. “Tell me about it. I feel like I popped overnight.”

I pushed off the counter and made my way toward them, standing behind the couch. I reached down, sliding my hand over Mason’s, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my palm.

It was still surreal.

A few months ago, she’d been a stranger to me.

Now, she was everything.

Ethan sat on the arm of the couch, his gaze flicking between us.

“You been feeling okay?” he asked her, ever the responsible one.

Aurora sighed dramatically. “Aside from the fact that your child has decided my bladder is a personal trampoline? Peachy.”

Mason chuckled. “Kid’s got my energy, obviously.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “God help us all.”

Aurora reached for his hand, pulling him closer. “You wanna feel?”

Ethan hesitated, just for a second, before resting his palm against her belly.

A moment passed.

Then his brows lifted slightly. “That was a kick.”

Aurora beamed. “That was a kick.”

Mason whooped, grinning. “Damn right, kiddo. Show him who’s boss.”

Ethan smirked, but there was something softer in his expression when he pulled his hand away.

Like the reality of it was settling in.

Mason leaned back, stretching an arm over the back of the couch. “You know, we should probably start thinking about names soon.”

Aurora groaned. “I have so many names on a list already.”

Ethan raised a brow. “Let me guess, book characters?”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Obviously.”

Mason rubbed his hands together. “All right, let’s hear ‘em.”

Aurora reached for her phone, scrolling through something. “Okay, so for boys, I like…”

I listened as she rattled off names, the warmth of her voice filling the room.

Mason was right.

We weren’t fighting anymore. We weren’t struggling to keep what was ours.

We were building something new. Something solid.

A home. A family. A future.

And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t afraid of what came next.

Aurora slipped her arms into her coat as we stepped out into the crisp morning air, the cool breeze making her hair dance around her face.

She looked up at me, a little amused, a little suspicious.

“You're being weird,” she said.

I pulled my truck keys from my pocket and gave her a look. “I’m always weird.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “No, this is different. You're up to something.”

I didn’t answer, just gestured toward the truck. “Come on. We’ve got somewhere to be.”

She raised a brow but didn’t argue.

The drive into town was quiet, but Aurora kept sneaking glances at me, trying to read whatever it was I wasn’t saying.

When we finally pulled up in front of Page Turners, she frowned.

“Owen,” she said slowly, looking at the darkened windows of her bookstore, “what are we doing here? Are you just dropping me off at work?”

I turned off the engine, unbuckling my seatbelt. “Go find out.”

Her frown deepened, but she pushed open the door, stepping out onto the sidewalk. I followed, staying just a step behind her.

The second she stepped inside, the lights flicked on.

And suddenly, the quiet bookstore wasn’t quiet at all.

“Surprise!”

Aurora froze, eyes going wide as a sea of familiar faces filled the shop.

Lila stood front and center, grinning like she’d just pulled off the best plot twist of her career. Samantha and Beatrice stood beside her, both beaming. Nancy, Adam, Kai, and Samuel stood near the counter, alongside Morgan, Ethan, and Mason.

And behind them? Half the damn town.

Aurora blinked, looking completely overwhelmed. “What?”

Lila stepped forward, hands on her hips. “You didn’t really think we were gonna let Page Turners stay in shambles forever, did you?”

Aurora’s lips parted, but no words came out.

Samantha reached for her hands, squeezing them. “We all know how much this place means to you, sweetheart. To all of us.”

Beatrice nodded, her usual sharpness softened. “We came up with a plan.”

Aurora turned to me then, eyes shining with something I couldn’t quite name.

I shrugged. “Told you we had somewhere to be.”

Mason smirked from his spot near the front. “The bookstore’s getting a facelift. And the whole town’s chipping in.”

Aurora’s hands flew to her mouth, her breath hitching.

Nancy gestured toward a giant poster board near the register, covered in sketches, floor plans, and color samples. “We’ve got contractors lined up. Volunteers ready to work. Fundraisers planned. It won’t just be a bookstore anymore, Aurora. It'll be a landmark.”

Kai grinned, holding up a flyer. “We’re throwing a fundraising event next weekend—biggest one Medford’s ever seen. Live music, raffles, food. Every business in town is pitching in.”

Adam crossed his arms. “We figured, after everything you did to fight for this place, it was time someone fought for you.”

Aurora let out a choked sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Her hands fell from her mouth, pressing against her growing belly as she looked at the people standing before her.

The people who had become her family.

“I…” Her voice cracked, and she shook her head. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Lila rolled her eyes. “Thank you is a good start.”

Aurora let out a wet laugh, wiping at her cheeks. “Thank you. God, thank you.”

Morgan stepped forward, resting a gentle hand on Aurora’s shoulder. “You saved this town, Aurora. Now, we’re saving your bookstore.”

Aurora exhaled sharply, looking at all of us like she was trying to take in the weight of what this meant.

I watched as her fingers curled slightly over her stomach.

This place was more than a bookstore. It was her past, her present, her future.

And now?

It was hers to keep.

Aurora wiped at her damp cheeks, shaking her head in awe. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Lila smirked.

“Good thing we do.” She reached behind her and grabbed a clipboard, waving it in the air. “Because we’ve got a list of ideas, and you, my dear, are going to love them.”

Aurora let out a watery laugh as Samantha stepped up beside Lila, nodding enthusiastically. “We’re talking about a total refresh. Story time for kids, poetry nights, a book club. Events that bring people together, just like this place always has.”

Morgan gestured toward the plans. “We want to set up a cozy reading nook near the windows—comfy chairs, warm lighting. A place where people can escape into a book for hours.”

Aurora blinked at them, overwhelmed. “I love all of that.”

Nancy grinned. “And the best part? You don’t have to do it alone. We’ve all volunteered for different tasks. Beatrice is handling inventory updates, Lila’s spearheading event planning, and the boys have agreed to help with repairs.”

At that, Aurora’s gaze flicked toward us.

Mason waggled his brows. “That's right, babe. Your very own construction crew, ready to make some magic happen.”

Ethan crossed his arms, smirking. “It’s a miracle we let him hold a hammer.”

Mason scoffed. “Hey, I am excellent with tools, thank you very much.”

I shook my head, laughing softly before looking at Aurora. “We mean it, though. Whatever you need, we’re here.”

Aurora pressed a hand to her chest. “I don’t deserve any of this.”

Ethan’s expression softened. “You deserve all of it.”

Mason clapped his hands together. “And, because we’re not done with surprises yet,” He shot a look my way. “You wanna do the honors?”

I nodded, pulling a small envelope from my back pocket and handing it to Aurora. “This one’s just from us.”

Her brows knitted in confusion as she opened it.

She pulled out the papers inside, her breath catching as she scanned them.

I watched as her fingers trembled slightly, her eyes darting over the words—emails from publishers, contact information for agents.

Her head snapped up, her lips parted. “You?”

I nodded. “We reached out to some people. Got you started with contacts.”

Aurora covered her mouth, her breath shuddering. “I can’t believe you did this.”

Her gaze landed on me, something unspoken passing between us. I felt it in my chest, how much this meant to her.

She let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Mason grinned. “Yeah, but you love us.”

She did.

God, she really did.

I watched as she pressed the papers to her chest, looking around at her bookstore, at all the people who had shown up for her.

Then, with a bright, teary-eyed smile, she said the only thing that mattered.

“Let’s do this.”

Epilogue

AURORA

Five months later…

The smell of old books wrapped around me like a familiar hug as I stepped into Page Turners.

Morning sunlight streamed through the front windows, and soft chatter filled the space—customers browsing, the hiss of the espresso machine from the new café corner, the occasional laugh from the cozy reading nook we’d built by the window.

It was everything I had ever dreamed of.

And it was mine.

I trailed my fingers along the nearest bookshelf, my heart swelling as I took it all in.

The renovation had transformed Page Turners into something even more magical than before.

The walls had been repainted a warm, inviting shade of deep blue, with gold accents that caught the light just right.

New shelves lined the space, stocked with hand-picked books, and a charming café corner now stood where an unused storage area once had been.

And the best part?

Right near the register, sitting proudly on a display table, was my book.

My book.

I still couldn’t believe it.

A soft tap on my shoulder made me turn, and I was met with Ethan’s knowing smirk. “You're staring at it again.”

I huffed. “I am not.”

“You are.” He crossed his arms, leaning against the counter. “You do that thing where you tilt your head, like you're still trying to convince yourself it’s real.”

I sighed, glancing back at the neatly stacked copies of my debut novel. “Maybe I am.”

Ethan’s smirk softened. “It’s real, Aurora. You did this.”

I pressed a hand to my chest, my fingers brushing against the chain of the necklace I always wore—my uncle’s old safe key, now a reminder of how far I’d come.

“I didn’t do it alone.”

“Maybe not.” Ethan’s voice was quieter now, more thoughtful. “But you didn’t give up. That's all you.”

Before I could get too emotional, the front door swung open, and Mason strolled in, a to-go coffee in each hand. “All right, nerds. I come bearing gifts.”

He handed one to Ethan before setting mine on the counter with a wink. “For the boss lady.”

I raised a brow. “I don’t pay you, Mason.”

He smirked. “And yet, here I am, showing up every day like a dedicated employee.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “He's just here for the café pastries.”

Mason gasped, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. “How dare you. I’m here for moral support.”

I snorted. “Right.”

The door chimed again, and this time, it was Owen who stepped inside. His gaze found mine immediately, a small smile tugging at his lips.

There was still a part of me that reacted every time he looked at me like that—like I was something worth holding onto.

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm as he leaned in to kiss my forehead. “How’s your morning?”

I exhaled, glancing around the store, at everything we’d built together. “Perfect.”

Owen’s eyes flicked toward the display table. “Sold another copy this morning?”

I bit my lip, the disbelief still lingering. “We sure did.”

Mason slung an arm over my shoulder. “Duh. You're kind of a big deal now, babe.”

Ethan nodded. “We should probably start charging for autographs.”

I rolled my eyes even as warmth spread through my chest. They were teasing, but I knew they were proud.

Owen’s hand found mine, his thumb tracing small circles against my skin. “We’re all proud of you, you know.”

I squeezed his fingers. “I know.”

And I did.

I wasn’t just chasing dreams anymore, I was living them.

Right here, in the heart of Medford, surrounded by the people I loved.

My home. My bookstore. My future.

And I wouldn’t change a thing.

Especially not my men.

Okay, so it was unconventional and not what I ever expected, but it was perfect.

Mason was my laughter, my chaos, my spark on the darkest days. Owen was my steady anchor, always there to hold me when I needed grounding. And Ethan. Ethan was my quiet strength, my calm in every storm.

And somehow, someway, they had all become home to me.

The first sharp pain hit in the middle of a book club meeting. At first, I brushed it off as nothing. Braxton Hicks, maybe.

But then another came.

Then another.

The murmurs of conversation around me started to blur as I pressed a hand to my belly, exhaling slowly.

Lila, ever perceptive, narrowed her eyes at me from across the room. “Aurora. Are you okay?”

“I…” I started to nod, but then I felt it—a deep, pulling pressure that made my breath hitch. “I think…”

A rush of warmth flooded down my legs, and the entire room froze.

Beatrice gasped. “Holy cow. Her water just broke.”

Nancy clapped her hands. “It’s happening!”

For a second, I just stood there, staring at the growing puddle on the floor, my brain not computing.

Then Mason’s voice rang out from across the store. “Holy shit.”

Seconds later, all three of them came running.

Ethan’s eyes scanned me from head to toe. “How far apart are the contractions?”

“I…” Another wave of pain had me gripping the counter. “I don’t know, but very close together.”

Owen was already pulling out his keys. “We need to get her to the hospital. Now.”

Mason, meanwhile, looked downright terrified. “Oh my God. Oh my God. This is happening. You're having the baby. Right now. We’re having a baby.”

“I’m having the baby,” I corrected through clenched teeth.

“Right, yes, you are,” Mason said quickly, practically vibrating with nervous energy. “But we’re involved!”

Owen grabbed my coat, helping me slip into it. “We can debate logistics later. Let’s go.”

I barely remembered the car ride to the hospital.

I was too busy squeezing Ethan’s hand into dust while Mason kept rambling in the front seat, alternating between panicking and hyping me up.

When we arrived, everything blurred together. Nurses, IVs, words I couldn’t focus on. All I knew was that my hands never left theirs.

Ethan, murmuring calm reassurances in my ear.

Mason, pacing like a caged animal but always returning to kiss my forehead.

Owen, never letting go of me, his eyes locked on mine, steady and unwavering.

Then, suddenly, after what felt like both forever and no time at all, there was a cry.

A strong, perfect wail filled the room, and my chest cracked wide open.

The doctor smiled. “It’s a girl.”

Tears burned in my eyes as a tiny, wriggling pink bundle was placed against my chest.

She was warm and real and ours.

Mason choked on a laugh, brushing his fingers across her impossibly soft cheek. “She's so tiny.”

Ethan exhaled, his voice thick. “She's perfect.”

Owen leaned down, pressing a kiss to my temple. “You did so good, baby.”

I couldn’t stop staring at her.

My daughter.

Our daughter.

A whole new chapter of our story, beginning right here, in my arms.

I looked up at them, at the men who had stood beside me through everything.

Who had built this life with me.

Who were family.

And with a full heart, I whispered the words I had never been so sure of, “We’re home.”

The end.

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What to read next???

Click HERE to read Lacey’s first book in the Men of Medford series, Stuck with my Brother's Firefighter Besties.

Join the mile high club? Done.

Discover the seductive ‘stranger’ is my brother’s bestie… OMG.

Get stuck in a cabin and claimed by three off-limits firemen? No way.

After being robbed, I flew home with my pride in a carry-on and my faithful corgi stowed in cargo.

So when the passenger next to me looked like People magazine's Sexiest Man Alive, I did what any heartbroken girl would do.

I followed him into the tiny bathroom to forget my troubles at 30,000 feet.

And forget I did⁠—

Until my brother picked us up at the airport.

Mr. Sexy Face tossed our luggage into the trunk, smirking like we had a secret.

Because we did. A very naked one.

Then, lured by the promise of ‘all-inclusive relaxation’,

I accepted my brother's invite to the firehouse ski trip.

Cue the surprise blizzard.

Now I’m snowed in with three forbidden firefighters.

Jaxon, my wild ride in the sky… Now I’m his favorite landing strip.

Colt, Mr. December in the charity calendar, looks like he splits logs with his bare hands.

And Ryan, the golden retriever jokester who makes me beg between the sheets.

They’ve all claimed me. At the same time.

I’m so screwed.

I can’t choose between them. And I’m not about to burn it all down and run.

Not when my three firemen make me feel like I’m finally home.

Start reading Stuck with my Brother's Firefighter Besties NOW!

About the Author

Lacey Day writes steamy reverse harem romances where dominant alphas, grumpy cinnamon rolls, and tattooed bad boys are always ready to claim their girl… and she gets to keep them all. 

In Lacey’s cozy small towns, one-night stands turn into forever, and found family is all you’ll need. 

The next book is coming soon. Stay tuned for updates…

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