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Prologue
AURORA
Moonglade Harbor, Maine
My phone flashes, face up on the bar. Texts. Calls. My mom. My brother.
But it’s not the name I’m looking for, and he’ll never call me again.
I sigh and flip it over, waving to the bartender. “Can I get a refill, please?”
For the last few weeks, this has been my routine. Avoid my family. Get drunk in a dingy bar. Pretend my dad isn’t dead. Sometimes, I’m even drunk enough to feel his ghost, and those are the good days.
Most of the time, he’s just gone.
Though I’m painfully sober, the bartender gives me a judgmental stare and slides me my second drink.
“I’m not taking care of you tonight,” he says as a warning.
I pout. “And why not? We had fun last time, didn’t we?”
Not that I remember. Though it was just three days ago, it’s a blur.
“Because I’m working.”
“Blah blah blah…”
He only took care of me once, when I was so drunk I forgot my way back to my apartment. It was a bit of a shock to wake up in his studio above the bar, but my clothes were still on, and he was nice enough to make me breakfast. I’ll call that a win, even if it resulted in conversations like these.
You’d think a bartender would be used to messy patrons. And I’m the same as any of them. Drinking to forget.
“Wow.” Someone chuckles under their breath; their voice is deep. Warm. “You have quite the reputation, don’t you?”
I turn to face the stranger, my straw halfway to my lips as I prepare to give him a piece of my mind. He doesn’t know the half of my reputation. The words slip through the cracks as I lift my chin up—and up—to meet his piercing blue gaze. He runs his fingers through his dark hair, pushing it back and nearly knocking dark-framed glasses off his face.
Cute.
Don’t worry. I just found someone else to take care of me for the night.
I rest my elbow on the bar and set my hand there, smiling and batting my eyelashes. “Does that mean you already know who I am?”
“No. I don’t. And that isn’t an invitation for you to get to know me either, before you get any ideas.”
Okay, cute but a little grumpy. I can work with that.
“Fine. You can get to know me instead. I’m Aurora.” I stick my hand out. He seems like a handshake kind of guy, though I can think of some better uses for his hands. And mine. And our hands together.
“Like the princess?” After a moment of staring warily, he shakes my hand as if we’re at a networking event, his calloused fingers rough and strong.
“Gods, I wish. More like… the northern lights?” I roll my eyes, even though he probably doesn’t understand why. I don’t particularly want to think about the why—about the person who named me after his greatest joy.
“Pretty.” He smiles shyly; his dimples are a good distraction. “That suits you.”
“So, you think I’m pretty?”
He nods slowly and swallows the lump in his throat, as if he’s chewing his words before he can spit them out. “You can feel free to make that assumption.”
“I think I will.” I lift my glass to my mouth, sipping the cool, sugary drink through the straw. “I would ask if you come here often, but I actually come here all the time, and I’ve never seen you around.”
