Chapter 22
Present Day
When Rhea returned home early this morning, Nova was still in bed.
Or more accurately, curled up on the floor.
We’d left her for the night while she cried. I had checked on her a few times once she grew silent. She was wide awake every time I looked, but staring off at nothing.
Koda and Jimmy had refused to say what happened before she started screaming at them to get out of her room, both seeming like they felt guilty. That surprises me about Koda, but I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. At least something has gotten through his thick skull.
Moments after Rhea retires to her room, Nova appears at the door of hers. Dark circles sit over her eyes as she peeks down the hall toward the other bedroom. She glances the other way, jumping with a little gasp when she sees me leaning against the wall at the entrance to the hall.
“Good morning,” I murmur, studying her.
She licks her lips, shooting a look at Rhea’s door. “Morning,” she whispers, covering her mouth as a yawn sneaks through. The way her eyes squeeze close as she surrenders to the yawn is adorable. And it gives me the time to contemplate what happened last night between us.
The moment her hand had gently set down on mine, I’d gotten vertigo. There’s no denying that Nova is a beautiful girl. In fact, in some ways, she’s prettier than Rhea. Obviously, the lack of homicidal tendencies makes Nova more appealing, too.
Her looks aren’t what had gotten me. It was her touch; that light pressure of her palm against mine, like she was too afraid to put the full weight of her hand in mine. It had stirred up feelings, ones I’d never considered being important, not even with my ex-wife.
And then that song, the one I haven’t been able to get out of my head since. The tune of it had come to me so easily, even now lingering in the back of my mind with plucky notes and violin-like accompaniment. Right now, I could hum the entirety of the tune without putting much effort in at all.
Nova sighs, her hand falling away from her mouth, and steps toward me. Glancing back at Rhea’s room again, she beckons me silently, padding barefoot into the living room. I follow, curious about what she might want from me.
She turns when she’s in the middle of the room, crossing her arms under her breasts. I do my damndest to ignore the way I notice she’s not wearing a bra, her breasts pressing together under the thin t-shirt she’s slipped on.
“I need to know more,” Nova says, keeping her voice low. “I need to know how you all died.”
I set my jaw, knowing she wasn’t going to give up on this, but hoping she would leave it alone for a while. We’d collectively decided to not tell Nova about our deaths, out of preservation of her safety. If she knew, our observations of Nova and her moral compass would lead her to do one of two things: confront Rhea and try to get her help, or go to authorities.
Both could put her in a dangerous spot with Rhea. If Rhea finds out her sister knows about her murderous tendencies, I suspect Nova will find herself on the claw end of a hammer. For now, oblivious, she seems safe enough.
“We died,” I answer slowly, “in a terrible way. But the way we died isn’t why we’re here. So it’s irrelevant.”
Her eyes narrow at me. “But then why are you here?”
“I don’t know.”
It’s an honest answer. We could think it’s because our deaths were violent. We could think it’s because this was where our deaths occurred. There are half a dozen other reasons I could offer, but the truth really is that we don’t know. Chris’ moving on tends to make me believe that maybe we all have some sort of unfinished business to handle, as cliché as it seems.
No matter what it is, my answer effectively takes the wind from Nova’s sails and her shoulders sag.
“I need some time,” she announces, looking at her feet. “I want to try to find Courtney first and deliver Chris’ messages before I take on more. I’ve…I’ve never done this before. I need to take it one at a time.”
“That’s fair,” I agree.
“And…” she trails off, her eyes coming up to scan the room. “I need you to keep Koda and Jimmy away from me,” she requests.
The sorrow in her voice is like a punch to the gut and all I want to do is make it better—whatever that means.
That isn’t your place, I remind myself.
I clear my throat gruffly, trying to displace the protective feelings that have me wanting to draw her in and reassure her. “Sure. I can do that.”
And then, because I am selfish and have no self-preservation, I stick out my hand to shake with hers.
Justone more touch. Last night was only a fluke.
She hesitates, her eyes flashing from my outstretched hand to my face and back. Then, just when I think she’s going to reject the offer, her hand slips into mine, determination on her face. Her fingers clutch hard—or at least what she probably perceives as hard—and she shakes our joined hands up and down once.
But that’s not what I’m focused on.
I’m focused on the melody that explodes in my brain, so loud that I feel like a stereo is blaring somewhere in the house with this very tune playing. Just as Nova brings our hands down in the shake, I unconsciously jerk her closer, causing her breath to stutter out and her body to collide with mine.
She’s so tiny next to me; so young; so fucking beautiful.
I want her on an instinctual, neanderthal level. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone—including Rhea, and she gave me a run for my money. Literally and figuratively. My free hand comes up, framing her jaw and tipping her chin up so I can drink in all the little details I haven’t noticed from afar: the little freckles that dot across her cheeks and nose; a little scar across her brow; the way her emerald-colored eyes have a sunburst of dark brown surrounding her pupil.
“Uh…Theo?” Nova murmurs nervously, and I realize how intense, severe, and locked on her face my gaze is. It’s startling.
“Theodore,” I snap, all but throwing her hand down and taking two quick steps away from her.
She flinches at all of it, her shoulders coming up to her ears as she edges away from me. “Sor…sorry,” she whispers.
Fuck. I’m an asshole.
I scratch at the back of my neck and shoot her a tight smile. “I apologize, Nova. I will ensure that we all give you space.”
Some emotion crosses her face, something similar to disappointment, her eyes refusing to meet mine. “Thanks.”
“Anything for you,” I murmur back, before I can stop the words. Kicking myself, I turn away, planning to take myself back to Rhea’s room. I stop short as Nova makes a sound.
Not just a sound. Nova begins to hum a song, the same song I’ve heard twice now in unfailing clarity when touching her.
The sound of it makes me want to whip around. It makes me want to grab her, haul her up into my arms, and claim every inch of her body with mine. Something tells me it would be the best sex I’ve ever had and, while I might regret it later, it would be worth the trouble I might find with Jimmy and Dakota.
I don’t. I can’t. I have to be the responsible one here. She’s far too young for me, as ironic as it seems that I care about an age gap now. Beyond that, it’s clear that Jimmy is worked up about Nova, especially since he fucked her last night. And Dakota needs a lesson in self-control.
So I’ll be the example. As the oldest, I should be the one to show them that their dicks shouldn’t control their actions. Considering that my own dick is firmly trying to convince me otherwise, it will be hell. But I’m not some dipshit 20-something year old boy with only a quest to empty his balls.
That’s the plan, anyway.
When I spin around and grab her, she squeaks, her song cutting off abruptly. Her eyes stay squeezed close, as they had apparently been when she was humming, like if she doesn’t open her eyes, the mauling she’s about to be won’t be real.
The music leaving her lips is gone, but her arms gripped in my hands make it flare back to life in my head. I fight this primitive reaction, trying to get ahold of myself, my hands trembling. I’m fifty-two. Not fifteen. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Nova’s eyes flutter open, and there is actual fear reflecting back at me in them. I ignore the little voice in my head that points out the warring desire in her gaze too, and it’s the wake up call I needed. With deliberation, I release her, taking one step, then another, and another, until I’m across the room from her.
“We won’t bother you anymore, Nova,” I declare, but my voice breaks, giving me away. “We’ll all stay away from you until you’re ready. When you are, just call for us.”
To her, it looks like I disappear. Instead, I’m merely masked from her view so I can watch her reaction. As soon as I’m ‘gone’, she collapses onto the couch, burying her face in her hands with a groan.
Sitting up straight after a moment, she rubs at her eyes, smudging makeup she never removed under her eyes. “What was that?” she mumbles under her breath as she does. “Why is this happening?”
The thing is—I’d like to know, too