32. Selene
32
Selene
T he kitchen is warm, filled with the smell of sugar and browned butter. I slide a tray of cookies onto the counter, resisting the urge to steal one for myself. Theo’s still next to me, casually close, his arm brushing mine every so often as we move around the kitchen. It’s not intentional—at least, not entirely—but I don’t mind.
I can feel him watching me again.
I pretend not to notice, reaching for a stack of plates. “Are you going to actually help, or just look pretty?”
He leans in slightly, just enough for his voice to drop into that smooth, teasing tone. “Who says I can’t do both?”
I roll my eyes, but my lips twitch. “You don’t turn it off, do you?”
“Not when it works.”
He flashes a grin, and I shake my head, focusing on stacking the cookies. If I look at him too long, I might get caught up in how ridiculously charming he is. Again.
“Seriously though. What can I say? You’re distracting,” he answers, voice smooth and unbothered, as if getting caught ogling me is just part of his evening routine.
My lips twitch, but I keep my focus on the sauce, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flustered. “Flatter me all you want, but if the snacks aren’t ready when everyone gets here, you’re the one explaining why.”
“Oh, I’ll just blame you.”
I roll my eyes at the grin in his voice, turning slightly just in time to catch him sneaking a cookie from the tray.
I smack his hand away with the spatula, laughing. “Not a chance, Hot Shot. If anyone’s going to ruin my perfect hosting streak, it’s definitely not me.”
He holds up his hands in surrender, but the playful gleam in his eyes tells me he’s not done being a menace just yet. And honestly? I don’t want him to be.
So, before he can do anything else, I grab his wrist and pull him into a spin, ducking under our arms as I twirl him around.
He stumbles, laughing. “Did you just turn chopping carrots into a dance break?”
His hands naturally settle on my waist, like they belong there. Maybe they do.
I smirk up at him, knowing exactly what I’m doing. “What can I say? I’m a multitasker.”
His gaze flicks down to my lips, and my breath catches.
“You’re ridiculous,” he murmurs, but he’s grinning as he leans down, his forehead pressing against mine.
“Ridiculously charming, you mean,” I whisper back, letting my lips brush against his in the lightest, most teasing of kisses.
And then, because the universe hates me, someone clears their throat. Loudly.
We both pull back, and I already know who it is before I even turn.
Bennett.
He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, smirking like the devil himself. “Am I interrupting, or is this part of the game night prep?”
I don’t step away from Theo—not completely—but I do shoot Bennett a flat look. “You’re early.”
“And yet, somehow, right on time for my favorite game—cock blocking,” he says with a wink, stepping fully into the kitchen. He grabs a baby carrot from the tray Theo’s been working on and pops it into his mouth.
Theo sighs, clearly long-suffering. “Do you just show up to raid other people’s kitchens?”
“Family perks. Get used to it,” Bennett says around a mouthful of carrots.
I arch a brow, crossing my arms. “Family perks? Last I checked, Theo’s your cousin. That doesn’t mean you get to steal from my kitchen.”
Bennett shrugs. “Close enough.” He gestures lazily between me and Theo, eyes twinkling with amusement. “So, this is your thing, huh? Dancing while cooking. Very domestic.”
Theo quirks an eyebrow. “Jealous?”
Bennett doesn’t even hesitate. “Not in the slightest.” He grabs another carrot like the gremlin he is. “I’d burn water. But hey, if it works for you two, I’m not judging.”
I snort, turning back to check on the sauce. “That’s rich coming from the guy who’s probably never cooked a meal in his life.”
“Excuse you,” Bennett says, feigning offense. “I’ve mastered the fine art of ordering takeout.”
“Hopeless,” Theo mutters, shaking his head.
“Hopelessly charming,” Bennett corrects, mimicking my earlier tone.
I throw a carrot at him. He catches it. And for the first time in a long time, everything feels light.
Before I can respond, the kitchen door swings open again, and Celeste walks in, looking exasperated but amused. “Oh, thank God,” she says dramatically. “I needed to get away from the sexual tension in the living room.”
I snort, setting down the last plate. “Why am I not surprised?”
Celeste immediately grabs a cookie before they’ve even cooled, ignoring my pointed glare. “Seriously, though. It’s bad. If I have to hear one more not-so-subtle innuendo, I might scream.”
Bennett snickers, shaking his head. “We just need to lock them in a room together to get it out of their system. It’s ridiculous at this point.”
“Feels like it,” Celeste agrees, taking another bite of cookie. Then she turns her attention to me and Theo, narrowing her eyes. “And you two aren’t any better, by the way.”
I wave her off, unfazed. “We’re making snacks. That’s practical.”
“Uh-huh,” Celeste deadpans. “Practical. Right.”
Bennett leans in closer to Theo, lowering his voice. “Is she always like this?”
Theo grins. “You have no idea.”
Celeste points a cookie at him like a weapon. “Hey, I heard that.”
“Good, that was the point,” Theo replies, effortlessly tossing a handful of pretzels into a bowl.
The easy banter flows between all of us, the kind that feels like second nature—like this, right here, is exactly where we’re meant to be.
Then, as the conversation lulls, I notice Theo watching Bennett. Not in a teasing way this time, but thoughtful. Calculating.
Bennett catches it too. “What?”
“Have you been able to find anything about your twin?”
Bennett hesitates for only a second before exhaling. “I might have a lead. I can’t be sure yet, but I’ve got a flight in a couple of days to check it out.”
Theo’s expression shifts, his usual playfulness dimming just a bit. “Where to?”
“California.” Bennett shrugs like it’s no big deal, but I know it is. “A few records popped up that could be something, but it’s all tangled in legal crap, so I need to see it for myself.”
I glance at Theo. He doesn’t say anything right away, but his jaw tightens slightly. I know he wants this for Bennett—to find real answers, real closure.
“Well,” Theo finally says, slinging an arm around Bennett’s shoulders in a brief but firm show of support. “If you need backup, I’ve always wanted to take a random trip to California.”
Bennett snorts, shaking him off. “You just want an excuse to drink overpriced coffee on a beach.”
“Guilty.”
By the time the snacks are ready, the house is buzzing with energy. Theo and I carry the trays into the living room, where the coffee table has been cleared for the main event: Village Idiot . The cards are already being shuffled by Bennett, who looks far too smug for someone who’s only played this game once.
Orion claps his hands together, “Okay, ladies—” he levels a pointed look at Morgan, Celeste, and finally me, “Make sure your socks stay on this time.”
Morgan rolls her eyes. “Are we seriously bringing this up again?”
“Yes,” Orion deadpans. “House rules. That way you can’t pass cards under the table while the rest of us are distracted.”
“Some of us were winning,” I correct, tossing a pretzel at him.
“You cheated,” Orion accuses.
“We played strategically,” I counter.
Agent Stirling, who up until now has been quietly brooding like he’s posing for the cover of FBI Monthly , finally speaks. His voice is low and smooth. “That’s what we’re calling it?”
I meet his gaze, unimpressed. “Would you rather I call it survival of the fittest?”
Something flickers in his eyes—interest, amusement—but he doesn’t say anything.
Celeste, sensing an opportunity, drapes herself over the arm of the couch beside him with a dreamy sigh. “Oh, Lucy,” she purrs, using Orion’s nickname for him, “you should know by now, that she always wins.”
Orion snickers. “Careful, Lucy. She might sink her claws in next.”
Stirling doesn’t dignify either of them with a response, but his lips twitch like he’s fighting a smirk.
“Can we play now?” Bennett grumbles, already shuffling the cards. “Before Celeste seduces a federal agent?”
Celeste bats her lashes. “It’s called establishing rapport.”
“It’s called a federal offense,” Orion mutters.
By the time the game starts, the house is buzzing with energy. We settle in, the coffee table cleared, snacks within reach, and the cards dealt.
Bennett smirks as he cuts the deck dramatically. “Prepare to witness greatness.”
“Greatness at being the Village Idiot maybe,” Celeste says, grabbing a handful of pretzels as she settles into a spot on the couch. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”
Bennett gestures to Theo. “Come on, I’ll need moral support playing with these vipers.”
“You’re on your own,” Theo says, dropping onto the floor next to me. “I’m sitting with the champion.”
“There is no such thing as a champion in Village Idiot, you fatuous boy,” Celeste quips. “There is only the Village Idiot.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Bennett mutters, dealing the cards. “We’ll see who’s wearing the fool’s cap tonight.”
“Definitely you,” Orion says from his spot across the table. He leans back, stretching out like he owns the place. “No one forgets their face-down cards faster than a rookie.”
Bennett raises an eyebrow. “And no one complains about this game more than you, yet here you are.”
Morgan snickers, nudging him with her foot. “He secretly loves it. Don’t let him fool you.”
“You’re all wrong,” Celeste says, grabbing her stack of cards as they’re dealt. “The real Village Idiot is whoever lets Orion convince them he knows what he’s doing.”
“Harsh,” Orion says, clutching his chest theatrically. “But not inaccurate.”
The game begins, and chaos unfolds immediately. Everyone plays as much with their mouths as their hands, bluffing, posturing, and throwing insults like confetti.
“Alright, start us off,” I say, nodding to Morgan.
Morgan plays a five, setting the tone for a fairly tame start. The rest of us follow suit, throwing down cards until Bennett inevitably messes it up by playing a ten when he could have just stacked a matching five or higher.
“You know you didn’t have to play that, right?” I ask, barely trying to hide my smirk.
“Strategy,” Bennett says, tapping his temple. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“It’s not a strategy if you’re just making it up as you go,” Celeste points out.
The turns fly by, the draw pile shrinking as everyone tries to balance playing smart with sabotaging each other. Bennett burns through his hand cards too quickly, leaving himself vulnerable when it’s time to move to his face-up cards.
“That’s a bold move,” I say as he flips his first face-up card—a three. “Playing blind with no backup strategy?”
“It’s a lifestyle,” Bennett says with a grin, and he somehow manages to coast through a few more rounds before hitting his first roadblock: a face-down three that he plays blind on top of a king.
“Oof,” Celeste says, shaking her head. “That’s a penalty, my guy. Pick up the pile.”
Bennett groans, scooping up the stack of cards with exaggerated misery. “I hate this game.”
“No, you hate losing,” I say sweetly, playing my last hand card and moving on to my face-up ones. “Big difference.”
The game devolves into exactly what it always does—Orion getting way too competitive but paying more attention to Morgan than his cards. Morgan calls him out with a smug rookie move every time he slips up. Celeste stirring the pot between flirting with Stirling and pretending she doesn’t care about winning when I know she does.
I glance at Stirling, half-expecting him to be staring at the door, calculating his escape. Instead, he’s leaning back, watching the game with something softer in his expression.
“You enjoying yourself, Lucy?” Orion taunts.
Stirling’s eyes flick to him, then to Celeste, who is currently stretching like a cat, probably just to mess with him. He exhales slowly.
“I don’t hate it.”
Theo nudges me. “They’re all insane.”
I glance around. Orion arguing with Morgan. Celeste openly flirting with Stirling. Bennett looking betrayed by his cards.
I smirk. “Yeah. And?”
Theo just grins. “I like it.”
“Speaking of rookie moves,” Bennett says as he’s forced to pick up the pile again, thanks to a poorly timed nine. “How’s the FBI pitch going, Orion? Convinced her to join the big leagues yet?”
Morgan rolls her eyes but doesn’t hide the hint of a smile. “It’s not a pitch. It’s a lecture disguised as flattery.”
“It’s neither,” Orion protests, though his grin says otherwise. “I’m just saying she’s too talented to stay in one place.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Morgan says, flipping over her next card. “Play your turn, or I’ll take your badge myself.”
“That’s not how it works,” Orion says, but he plays his card anyway, muttering something under his breath about small-town stubbornness.
By the time the draw pile is gone and everyone’s working through their face-up cards, the tension is both hilarious and palpable. Bennett has to pick up the discard pile again, much to our delight, while Morgan and I form an unspoken alliance to make sure Orion doesn’t finish first. Celeste, as always, plays the role of chaotic neutral, throwing the occasional wrench into the game just to keep things interesting.
When I finally get rid of all my cards, I lean back with a triumphant grin. “I am not the village idiot”
As we play the game more people go out until it’s just Celeste with one card face down on the table in front of her, and Bennett with 3 cards in his hand but no remaining cards on the table. The group oohs as Bennett places an ace on the discard pile. The tension thickens as Celeste goes for her face-down card. She takes a deep breath before she flips the card face up on the pile and we all go crazy as she smirks at Bennett and raises her arm in triumph and says “I am not the village idiot!”
He throws his cards down, puts his head in his hands, and groans as the rest of us cheer at Bennett becoming our latest village idiot.
Bennett groans like he’s just suffered a tragic betrayal, his head in his hands as we all erupt into laughter. Theo’s doubled over, Orion’s pounding the table, and Celeste is basking in the glory of her win like she just won an Olympic gold medal.
“I demand a rematch,” Bennett grumbles, dragging his hands down his face.
“You demand nothing,” Orion corrects, smug as ever. “You are the Village Idiot. Accept your fate.”
Morgan smirks, leaning back against Orion’s chair. “This is what happens when you play without a strategy.”
“It was a strategy,” Bennett argues. “It just… backfired.”
Celeste grins wickedly. “That’s what makes it fun.”
The group dissolves into playful bickering, accusations of cheating flying, but it’s all in good fun. There’s an ease here now, one that hasn’t been present for a long time. No shadows lurking in the corners. No weight pressing down on my chest.
Just laughter. Just us .
I lean back against the couch, exhaling slowly. The warmth of the moment settles deep in my bones, wrapping around me like a familiar sweater. It’s strange how, for so long, I didn’t think I’d ever get to feel this again.
Not after the past few months.
Not after Aubrey.
The town’s still reeling from her arrest. It sent shockwaves through Shadow Grove—though, honestly, it shouldn’t have. I wasn’t surprised. Theo wasn’t. Neither were Orion, Morgan, or Celeste. But the town? The town couldn’t believe it.
All except Cassandra.
She had called it from the beginning.
“It’s just like the Greek myth,” she’d told me after the dust had settled, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. “Cassandra cursed to see the future but never be believed. History repeats itself.”
I’d laughed then because, of course, she’d compare herself to a tragic oracle from ancient times. But now? Now, I think she might have had a point.
I let my eyes drift across the room—to Theo, still laughing beside me; to Orion and Morgan, caught up in a playful argument that Orion is definitely losing; to Celeste, who’s still basking in her victory, much to Bennett’s chagrin.
This is what we fought for.
This is what we nearly lost.
And yet, somehow, we’re still here.
I glance at Theo again, watching as he leans back against the couch, laughter still lingering at the edges of his smile. The past few months have changed all of us, but him —it broke something in him, learning the truth about his aunt. About what she did. To his parents. To both her husbands. To him , in a way, because how do you come back from that? How do you rebuild when the person who raised you, the person you trusted most, was the one holding the knife the entire time?
And yet, he’s still here.
Still Theo .
Still showing up, still taking care of everyone else, even when the ground was ripped out from under him. But tomorrow… tomorrow is different.
Tomorrow is Wednesday.
And for the first time since all of this, he’s opening the cafe again.
I’ll be there, of course. I’ll sit at my usual spot by the window, watching as he unlocks the door, flips the sign, and welcomes people in like nothing has changed—even though everything has.
And maybe it’s not perfect. Maybe none of us will ever fully shake the weight of what’s happened. But watching him now, seeing the way he’s still standing, still fighting—
It hits me.
I get to be there for this next part of his life. One without lies and secrets.
I’ll watch it begin again.