Page 45 of Healing Hearts
The bookstore owner, a stout man with a calm demeanor,steps forward and raises a placating hand. “Sir, these books are well-written and protected under the First Amendment. You’re welcome to your opinion, but you’re not welcome to disrupt this event. I’m going to have to ask you to leave or we’re going to have to call the cops.”
The man sneers, completely ignoring him. “Trash!” he bellows again. “Smutted filth!”
The crowd murmurs, people exchanging uncertain glances. The tension is palpable, crackling like electricity in the air. My stomach churns, the knot of anxiety tightening as I try to blend into the background, praying no one looks my way…not that they would know, but still.
Before I can even process what’s happening, Charlie steps out from her booth, arms crossed and eyes blazing. “I’ll tell you what’s trash,” she says loudly, her voice cutting through the man’s rant. “Your attitude. These books are empowering women and are beautifully written. Maybe if you read one, you wouldn’t be so damn uptight.”
A ripple of laughter passes through the crowd, but the man’s fury only grows. He turns his attention to Charlie, his torch swinging dangerously close to the table of books.
“And you!” he spits, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re defending this filth? You’re as bad as the author, who wrote it and the people who read it!”
I shrink back, the heat of the torch and the weight of his words pressing down on me. This is exactly the reaction I’ve always feared, the reason I’ve kept my identity hidden. My heart pounds as I glance at Trevor, wondering if he can feel the tension radiating off me.
And then, a venomous voice cuts through the chaos. “I’ll tell you who she is.”
I stiffen, the blood draining from my face. The crowd parts, and a woman strides forward with purpose, her perfectponytail swinging as she saunters into the middle of the growing crowd, her expression smug.
“Oh, god, Vivian. Not now,” Trevor mutters under his breath.
My head snaps toward him. Who the hell is Vivian, and how does he know her?
Vivian’s voice is loud and commanding, her words dripping with triumph. “I’ve figured out who Sophie Quinn is,” she announces, letting the tension in the crowd build. Her gaze sweeps the audience like she’s savoring the moment, relishing the attention.
The crowd murmurs, heads swiveling toward her. My stomach plummets.
“And,” Vivian continues, her smile widening, “she lives right here in this town. Sophie Quinn lives right here in Hibiscus Harbor.”
My breath catches, the weight of her words crashing over me like a tidal wave. I grip the edge of my booth for support, my knuckles white.
“If you want to know who it is,” Vivian says, her voice dripping with malicious glee, “I’ll be making an announcement about it tonight at Hoopla’s. You won’t want to miss it. I’m going to give awayallher secrets. I know who you are, Sophie Quinn. I know where you live. You can’t hide forever. The world will see what you’re so desperate to keep buried. What are you afraid of? What secrets are you guarding so tightly? Rest assured; I’ll uncover every single one of them. Mark my words—there’s nowhere you can run.”
The crowd erupts into whispers, people speculating and craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the mysterious Sophie Quinn. My knees threaten to buckle, and I clutch the table tighter, my vision swimming.
Trevor’s voice is low and warning as he steps forward. “Vivian,” he says firmly, his tone carrying a weight that cuts through her bravado.
Vivian meets his gaze, her lips twisting into a sneer. For a moment, they seem locked in a silent battle before she turns away, basking in the attention of the crowd.
Before I can fully process what’s happening, the angry man with the torch shouts again, drawing everyone’s focus back to him. The flame flickers dangerously close to the books as he raises the torch higher and beats on his drum faster.
“Sir,” Jax’s voice rings out as he and Eli arrive on the scene in uniform, their calm authority cutting through the tension. “You need to put that torch out and leave the premises.”
The man resists, his voice rising in protest, but Eli steps in, grabbing the torch with practiced ease and tossing it into the nearby harbor, extinguishing the flames with a hiss. “Time to go, buddy,” Eli says, his tone firm as he also grabs the mallet to keep the guy from beating the drum anymore.
The man continues shouting as they lead him away. “God will condemn all who read such books to a fiery death! I promise you that. A fiery death!”
The crowd watches the police escort him away, murmuring among themselves, but slowly, the commotion fades as people return to the festivities. Trevor turns back to me, his eyes filled with concern.
“Are you okay?” he asks gently, stepping closer. “You’re white as a ghost.”
I nod mechanically, but the truth is, I feel like I’m drowning. Vivian’s words, the crowd’s curiosity, the angry man’s condemnation—it’s all too much. “I think I need a minute,” I whisper, my voice trembling.
Trevor reaches for my hand, his grip strong and steady. “Let me get you out of here.” He looks over at the booth next to mine, “Charlie. Watch her booth for her, will ya?” He doesn’t wait for an answer and pulls me away from the festival.
I hesitate, my eyes searching his face. Will he feel the same way about me once he knows the truth? What happens when the secret I’ve been so carefully guarding is finally exposed?
Chapter 18
Trevor
