Aurora smiled, a small, tired smile that made her look younger. Fair point. They sat in Ethan’s kitchen drinking terrible coffee out of mismatched mugs while Aurora explained the lawsuit in detail. Ethan didn’t understand half the legal terminology, but he understood enough to know Damen Cross was a vindictive bastard who couldn’t let go.

He’s not going to stop, Aurora said quietly. Even if I win this, he’ll file something else. He’ll keep coming until I break. Then don’t break. Easy for you to say. I didn’t say it was easy. I said don’t break. Aurora looked at him for a long moment. You really believe that? I have to.

If I didn’t, I would have quit 3 years ago. What stopped you? Ethan glanced toward the stairs where he could still picture Khloe running down every morning with her wild curls and mismatched socks. Her? Aurora nodded slowly. You’re a good father. I try. Most people just try. You actually succeed. Ethan felt heat rise in his face. You don’t know that. I do.

I’ve been watching. That’s creepy. Aurora laughed. I have security cameras pointed at your house. Everything I do is creepy. The tension broke. They finished their coffee and Aurora left, but not before thanking him in a way that felt heavier than the words deserved. Ethan stood at the kitchen window watching her walk back across the street and wondered when he’d started caring whether she was okay. That was dangerous.

Caring was dangerous. He’d learned that the hard way. Two weeks passed. Auror’s lawyers came and went. The lawsuit dragged on. Ethan kept his distance, focused on work, on Khloe, on keeping their life as simple and predictable as possible. But Aurora kept showing up. Not in dramatic ways, not in intrusive ways, just small moments that added up before Ethan realized what was happening.

Titan escaped three more times, always ending up in Ethan’s garage. Aurora would appear a few minutes later, apologetic and slightly amused, and they’d talk while she clipped the leash back on. Khloe started doing her homework at Aurora’s kitchen table on Thursdays because Aurora had faster internet and didn’t mind the company.

One Saturday morning, Ethan found Aurora sitting on his front porch with two cups of coffee and a bag of donuts from the bakery two towns over. You didn’t have to do this, he said. I was already up. Thought you might want breakfast at 6:00 in the morning. I don’t sleep well. Ethan sat down beside her.

They ate donuts in silence while the sun came up over Silver Creek, turning the sky shades of pink and orange that look too pretty to be real. This town’s quiet, Aurora said after a while. That’s why I moved here. You ever miss the noise? No. Liar. Ethan glanced at her. You miss it? Aurora considered the question. sometimes.

Not the noise itself, but the feeling of being part of something bigger. She broke off a piece of doughut. Now I’m just part of nothing. You’re part of this. This Silver Creek, the neighborhood. Khloe’s school presentations. Ethan paused. My terrible coffee. Aurora smiled. Your coffee is terrible. I know. Why don’t you fix it? Because fixing things costs money. I could No.

Aurora raised an eyebrow. I didn’t even finish. You were going to offer to buy me a new coffee maker. The answer is no. Why? Because I don’t need charity. It’s not charity. It’s a gift. Same thing. Aurora’s expression shifted. Something between frustration and understanding. You’re proud. I’m broke. There’s a difference. Not much of one.

Ethan didn’t respond. They finished their donuts. Aurora left. Ethan spent the rest of the day rebuilding the Triumph’s electrical system and trying not to think about the fact that he just had the most comfortable conversation he’d had in years with a woman who terrified him. The breaking point came on a Tuesday.

Ethan was picking Khloe up from school when he saw a man standing near the playground, tall, mid-40s, wearing a suit that screamed money and a smile that screamed lawyer. Ethan’s instincts kicked in immediately. “Stay in the truck,” he told Khloe. “Why?” “Just stay.” He walked toward the man who was now talking to one of the teachers. As Ethan got closer, he caught fragments of the conversation.

Just trying to verify some information about Ms. Sinclair. Don’t know if I’m comfortable. Public record? Really? Nothing invasive? Ethan stepped between them. Can I help you? The man turned, his smile widening. Ethan Vale. Who’s asking? Marcus Brennan. I’m an investigator working for Cross Legal Partners.

He held out a business card. I’m gathering information for a case involving Aurora Sinclair. I understand your neighbors. Ethan didn’t take the card. What kind of information? Just background, living situation, behavior, whether she’s demonstrated any instability or erratic decision-m. You’re asking me to spy on her.

I’m asking you to be honest about what you’ve observed. I’ve observed that you’re standing outside my daughter’s school asking questions you have no right to ask. Marcus’ smile didn’t falter. Mr. Vale, I understand you’re protective, but this is a legal matter. If you refuse to cooperate, I can subpoena you. Then subpoena me.

I’m trying to be polite, and I’m trying to pick up my kid without dealing with whatever lawsuit you’re fishing for. Ethan stepped closer. Leave now. Marcus studied him for a moment, then pocketed his business card. You’re making a mistake. wouldn’t be my first. The investigator walked away. Ethan stood there until his hand stopped shaking, then went back to the truck.

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