Mated to the Alpha Twins

Aurora’s P.o.v
One Week Later
I had somehow managed to survive the week. Not only was I baking things on my own, Beth let me create some new desserts myself. I experimented with puff pastry, sugar icing, and fresh fruit. Some things turned out better than others, but Beth had a knack for selling. Jake was supportive as always with his sarcastic commentary, but the moment he had tasted the chocolate croissants I made, he was hooked.

While Beth had known my actual name for an entire week, she never pushed me to give anything more. Jake had taken my abrupt name change with little more than a shrug, flashing his lop-sided grin as he told me he liked the name Aurora more than Amber. While at first, I had listened to the two of them joke and bicker, I was now joining in. Each night I left the store, I smelled like roasted cinnamon and freshly baked puff pastry. I couldn’t imagine a better smell–well, I could name one but I refused to think about my life before this little town.
Countless nights I had dreamed of the twin’s, the two of them searching frantically for me. Each morning I’d wake with a new pain in my chest, and just another thing to spend the day ignoring.

Good on her promise, I hadn’t heard from Thalia since the day I left. Not that I’d ever admit this to her, but I was beginning to miss the annoying voice in my head. She felt like an extension of myself. Some days when I was feeling particularly down, I’d try and reach out to her. I’d let my fingers fumble through the dark recesses of my mind, searching for any trace of Thalia. It felt as though she were just out of reach, avoiding my outstretched hand as I searched for her.
On my last day in the Motel, Beth had managed to find me a little house to rent. She was familiar with the owner, a big burly guy by the name of Bret. The house was practically falling apart, but I couldn’t argue with the price of rent. Three hundred dollars a month for a house on its last legs, fit with withered boards, cobwebs in every corner of the house, and a kitchen big enough for one person. The house had minimal furniture, a bed and a couch older than my Grandma, but it was mine to do with what I pleased. Even with the horrible state of the house, I loved that I could come and go as I pleased without fear. I didn’t have to worry about drunk step-dad’s or insane ex-girlfriends.
The bakery was open Monday through Friday, as Beth and Jake were both in college. Beth had just turned nineteen, while Jake had turned twenty-one a couple months ago. Their parents owned many stores in town and got Beth her own bakery as a birthday present. While their parents were often busy, they treated Jake and Beth kindly. I hadn’t met them, but Beth had told me enough.
“C**p, Aurora I need a huge favor.” Beth sighed, tossing down the bag of cannoli filling onto the prep table. Her phone was pressed against her ear, her white apron covered in a healthy spattering of cinnamon and nutmeg.
“What’s wrong?” I called out, pulling a tray of miniature cherry pies from the oven and placing them on a table to cool.
“I just got a last-minute order from Sherry at the nursing home.” Beth groaned, pulling her apron off and tossing it on an empty prep table. “I’m not going to make it back for close. If you need any help Jake can walk you through what to do.”
Sherry managed the small but fancy nursing home in town, and I had learned of her three days into working at the bakery. She’d often place large orders for the employee’s and elderly in the nursing home. She was often forgetful and placed last minute orders, ones Beth and I had to scramble to complete.