Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Alaric
The moment I reach my room, I lock the door behind me, pressing my forehead against the wood. My chest is heaving, and it’s as if a vice is around my ribs, squeezing the air out of me. My pulse roars in my ears, drowning out every thought except one.
She’s alive.
Novalee.
I turn to walk to the bed, but my legs give out, and I sink to the floor.
Fuck.
My hands clutch my hair, pulling at it as if the pain will wake me from this nightmare, or dream, or whatever the hell this is.
How can she be alive?
And how the hell am I supposed to deal with it?
I thought I killed her. For eight years, I’ve lived in a cell built from grief and guilt, convinced that I lost her and that it was all my fault.
And now she’s here, standing in front of me, not as a memory, but as a living, breathing thing.
Trouble.
My breath catches, coming in short gasps, and the edges of panic claw at me. I should call my therapist, should try and breathe myself down, anything , but I can’t think straight.
I didn’t kill her.
A quiet sound breaks through the noise in my head—a soft meow. I blink, turning toward the bed, where Jinx is perched, her green eyes locked on me. She lets out another questioning chirp while hopping gracefully to the floor and padding toward me, pressing her head against my knee while purring softly.
The vibrations cut through the chaos in my chest, giving me something to focus on, something real. She rubs against me again before climbing onto my lap, where I bury my hands in her fur, clinging to her warmth and the steady rhythm of her purrs. It anchors me for a second, but then the weight of everything crashes over me again, making it hard to breathe.
Seeing Nova again, her face, her voice, it’s like ripping open a wound that has never healed in the first place. And worse, it’s tangled with an ache I can’t name, a feeling that’s too raw to even touch.
She lived on without me.
The door creaks, pulling me out of my thoughts. I look up sharply as it opens, realizing too late that I didn’t lock it properly.
Sylus steps inside, his usual cocky grin absent. Instead, his face is serious, his eyes scanning the room before landing on me. He doesn’t say anything at first, only closes the door behind him and crosses his arms, leaning against it.
“I figured you’d be up here losing your shit,” he says finally. “Tell me what’s going on.”
I don’t answer. What the hell am I supposed to say? That it’s as if my world was turned upside down? That I don’t know how to face her, let alone myself?
Sylus doesn’t wait for an answer. He pushes off the door and moves closer, crouching down in front of me. His eyes flicker to Jinx, who’s still curled in my lap, then back to me.
“Talk to me, Ric,” he demands softly.
“She’s alive.” The words feel foreign on my tongue like they don’t belong to me. “She’s… alive.”
“Who is she to you?”
Everything.
“My girlfriend. The girlfriend I killed in a car crash, the girlfriend I went to jail for.” Sylus’s brows lift, surprise flashing across his face, but he doesn’t interrupt. “I thought I killed her, Sy. For eight years, I thought… I thought she was gone. But apparently, it’s her twin I killed. Somehow, she thought I was dead too. And now…” I shake my head, unable to finish the thought.
“And now she’s here,” Sylus says quietly, filling in the gap.
“I don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t know how to even look at her. I’m not the guy she used to know. I’m broken.” My voice is a whisper. It’s the only way I’m able to say the words. “I prayed for years to turn back time. To undo what happened. To have her back.” My hands tighten a little around Jinx, who lets out a small chirp of protest but stays put. “But now she’s here, Sy. She’s here, and she’s still so damn perfect, just like she was eight years ago. And me?” I let out a bitter laugh.
Sylus’s eyes hold mine, steady and unflinching as if he’s waiting for me to get it all out.
“I wanted her back,” I continue, the words spilling out like a confession. “God, I wanted her back more than anything. But not like this. Not for her to see what I’ve become. She lived her life without me, and she… she’s still standing. She’s still… her. I don’t want her to see how broken I am now. It’s not fair, Sy. It’s not fair to put this on her.”
Sylus sits back on his heels, crossing his arms over his knees. “You’re an idiot.”
I blink. “What?”
“You’re a stupid idiot. I’ve gotten to know her these last few months, Ric. She’s tough as nails, but I’ve seen her hurt too. I’ve seen those cracks, and now I know what it was about. It was about you. It was always about you.”
His words are a sucker punch. I mean, I just saw that she’s hurting, but I thought it was about seeing me again after all these years.
She was hurt? All this time?
I look away, my hand trembling as I stroke Jinx’s fur, but Sylus doesn’t let up. “She’s been carrying you this whole damn time,” he continues. “And I bet everything I’ve got that girl would do anything to have you back, no matter what you think of yourself now. No matter what you’ve become. She’d be the one to help you get back to yourself.”
“Is that fair, though?” I shake my head, my throat tightening. “Is it fair to put that burden on her? She’s already been through hell because of me. I killed her twin sister with my stupid behavior. I can’t—” My voice cracks, and I can’t finish the thought. “She deserves better.”
Sylus lets out a heavy sigh as he looks at me like I’m the dumbest person he’s ever met. “Fair?” he echoes, disbelief coloring his tone. “You want to talk about fair? She thought you were dead, Ric. She mourned you . And now you’re alive. That’s not fair, that’s a fucking miracle. Nothing less.” Jinx shifts in my lap, pressing her head against my chest with a gentle nudge, her purring growing louder. Sylus notices and cracks a small, knowing smile. “See? Even the damn cat thinks you’re being an idiot.”
A quiet, strangled laugh escapes me, sounding more like a sob and reminding me of her almost hysterical laughter earlier. The way it morphed into sobs, the way her body trembled when she pulled me close, burying her face in my neck. Her tears, her desperation. And the way I pushed her away.
I squeeze my eyes shut, but the images don’t stop. The panic on her face as I recoiled from her, the fear in her voice as she called after me, the weight of the door slamming shut behind me.
Fuck.
“I fucked up.”
I’m falling apart.
“Ric,” Sylus cuts through the spiraling chaos. “You didn’t, okay? You’re okay.”
“I can’t—” My breath hitches, my hands clutching at my knees as I try to hold myself together. “I can’t, Sy. I—”
“What do you need, bro?” Sylus asks calmly. “Do you want me to go?”
“I—” My throat tightens as I try to form the words. “I don’t know. I… I feel like this isn’t real. Like I’m not real.”
Sylus kneels closer, his hand reaching out to rest lightly on my wrist. “How does that feel? Better or worse?”
I focus on the warmth of his touch, the grounding weight of his palm. It’s the only thing that feels real right now, aside from Jinx’s soft, steady purring in my lap. My breathing slows a little. “Better.”
Sylus moves his hand up to my forearm. “And now? Better or worse?”
I close my eyes, focusing on the sensation, letting it tether me to the present. The warmth, the solidity—it cuts through the fog. “Better,” I whisper. “Real.”
“You are real. You’re here.” He nods when I open my eyes and carefully lifts Jinx from my lap, setting her on the floor. Then he stands, reaching down to grab my hand. “Come on,” he commands. “Up.”
I let him pull me to my feet, my legs shaky beneath me. Sylus places both hands on my shoulders, holding me in place, eyes meeting mine.
“How does that feel?”
He’s reaching a hand into the sea of chaos and anxiety I’m drowning in—just like he always has. Careful, waiting, supporting. I’m not alone in this storm, and I can let myself break because Sylus is here to keep me upright.
And God, I need to break. I’m already falling apart, and I can’t stop it anymore.
I pull him close, my arms wrapping around him tightly as I bury my face in his shoulder. The sobs come before I can stop them, shaking my entire body as I cling to him like he’s the only thing keeping me tethered to reality.
Sylus freezes, his entire body going still. I know it’s a shock. He probably never expected me to willingly let anyone touch me, let alone need to be held. But I can’t stop. I need him right now. He’s the only thing anchoring me to reality.
After a moment, I feel his arms come around me, tentative at first, then stronger. He holds me loosely, careful not to spook me. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re both alive, man. The rest, we’ll figure out. I promise.”
His words break something loose inside me, and the sobs come harder, my grip on him tightening as my knees threaten to buckle. I can’t keep upright anymore, and Sylus must notice because he shifts his hold. “Come on,” he says, guiding me toward the bed. “Lie down.”
I collapse onto the mattress, trembling. Before I can pull myself together, Sylus climbs onto the bed, lying down behind me. His arms wrap around me, pulling my back into his chest, holding me as if I’m a child.
He doesn’t say anything else. He simply lets me cry, and it’s all I didn’t know I needed. For the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself fall apart completely, trusting that he’ll be there to catch the pieces.
The bed shifts as Jinx jumps up and curls up at my front. She settles in, her rhythmic purring coming back up. Slowly, the sobs begin to fade, my breaths evening out as the chaos inside me stills.
I would’ve never thought I could let anyone touch me again, not after everything. But here I am, pressed against Sylus, his arms holding me securely, Jinx nestled on my other side. And somehow, right now, someone’s touch isn’t a reminder of how broken I’ve become.
It’s… safe.
Sylus managed to slip past the walls I built. Not by force or demanding anything of me, but with persistence and patience. He didn’t try to break them down. He just waited, chipping away a little at a time until I finally let him in until he was my best friend.
Maybe it could work with her too. Maybe she could help me feel whole again. Maybe I could try to be someone better for her .
Because she was my best friend first.
“You think she can fix me, Sy?
“I think she doesn’t care about fixing you. I think she just wants you. Whatever version of you exists now, she’ll take it.”
“And what if the new version of me isn’t worthy of her?”
“Give her the chance to decide, Ric.” Sylus shifts behind me. “Don’t make that choice for her.”
I let out a long, shaky breath. The thought of facing her or letting her see the shattered pieces of me is terrifying. But the thought of shutting her out again, of losing her for a second time…
I close my eyes, swallowing hard.
“I have to try,” I murmur and feel him relax behind me.
The silence stretches between us, broken only by the hum of Jinx’s purring. My breath slows, settling into a rhythm that doesn’t feel like it’s going to choke me. Exhaustion takes over, and my body sinks into the mattress as my mind finally quiets.
Sylus
The weight of Alaric’s steady breathing against my chest finally lets me relax. He’s out, and thank fuck for that. The guy needs the rest.
Jinx, curled on the bed near us, lets out a chirp while stretching, her green eyes going to the closed door. She stands, tail flicking with impatient grace, and pads toward it before giving me a look.
I huff out a quiet laugh, then carefully shift out from behind Alaric and slip away. His brow furrows in his sleep, but he doesn’t wake.
Good.
Jinx lets out another soft meow, staring pointedly at the door. I reach for the handle, easing it open just enough for her to slip through, and she disappears into the hallway without a backward glance.
I hesitate for a second, glancing back at Alaric’s sleeping form.
Now that he’s at least somewhat fine, I need to see my girl and make sure she is too.
The hallway is dark, the wooden floor cool under my feet as I descend the stairs, the faint murmur of voices drawing me toward the living room. I round the corner and stop dead in my tracks.
Levi is awake, which is good. He’s sitting on the couch, talking softly with Koen. His face is pale but alert, and I can already see the familiar glint of sarcasm in his eyes as he leans back.
But it’s the scene next to them that makes my blood boil.
Sparkle is draped across Nicholas’s lap, her head resting against his chest, her eyes closed like she’s sleeping. Nicholas’s hand is in her hair, stroking it, his expression almost fucking dreamy. His other arm is wrapped around her waist like she’s his.
Yeah, fuck that.
“Didn’t I tell you to look after her?” My voice is sharp, cutting through whatever they are whispering about.
Koen looks up, startled, his brows pulling together in confusion. “I—”
Before he can say another word, I’m standing in front of Nicholas. His gaze snaps up to meet mine, his grip on Sparkle tightening slightly like he knows what’s coming. Without hesitation, I scoop her out of his lap. The blanket that was covering her slips to the floor, leaving her in her bra and stolen uniform pants. Her injured arm looks better, cleaned somewhat, but the dried blood still clings to her skin—a fucking reminder of how much she’s been through today.
“Really, Koen?” I snap. “You couldn’t even make sure she had a shirt on?”
Koen has the decency to look sheepish, his mouth opening like he’s about to explain, but Sparkle stirs in my arms. “Hottie?”
Her head lolls against my shoulder, and I press a kiss to her temple. “I’ve got you, baby.”
Koen stands. “I was waiting to see if Alaric could treat her wound or—”
“Alaric needs a fucking break. And she needs a damn shower,” I cut him off. “And fresh clothes. And something to eat. Make yourself helpful and get food going, goddammit.”
Koen blinks at me, then nods, rubbing the back of his neck as he heads to the kitchen. I shouldn’t snap at him. He had a fucking bad day, too, but I’m too on edge for apologies. Between Veronica getting her claws into Levi, Alaric’s meltdown, and now finding Nicholas playing white knight with my girl, I’m done.
I glance over at Levi, who’s perched on the edge of the couch next to Ezra. “Good to have you back, idiot. Next time, tell me in advance if you’re planning to go on a suicide mission.”
“Yes, sir.” Levi rolls his eyes, his grin widening despite the faint bruising on his face.
Without another word, I carry Sparkle up the stairs and into my room, shutting the door firmly behind us. The en-suite light clicks on automatically as I set her down on the edge of the closed toilet. Her head lolls forward. She’s still half asleep.
“Stay with me.” I brush her hair back from her face as I crouch in front of her before turning on the shower, adjusting the water until it’s warm but not too hot. “You know I love it when you’re like this, but right now, I need you to help me here,” I say softly, brushing my knuckles against her cheek. “Can you do that?”
Her eyes flutter open, glassy and dazed, but she nods faintly.
God, she’s so fucking exhausted.
When I’m sure she’s sitting upright on her own, I pull back to strip off my shirt, tossing it into the corner and tugging at the waistband of my jeans. I step out of them quickly, and my socks and boxers follow suit.
Her gaze barely registers my movement, her focus already slipping again. I unclasp her bra and slide it down, careful to avoid jostling her injured arm. But she winces slightly when I move it anyway, and my chest tightens at the movement.
“Sorry, Sparkle baby,” I murmur. “Almost done.”
Once her pants, panties, and socks are off, and her phone and matchbox rest safely on the sink, I guide her toward the shower, keeping my hands on her waist. I step in with her, supporting her as the water cascades over us. She leans back heavily into me, the back of her head pressing against my chest, and she shivers, even in the warm spray.
“You’re okay,” I say, more to reassure myself than her. “I’ve got you.”
“You always do.” She reaches down to grab my hand and slide her fingers between mine. “You’re my person.”
Fucking finally.
It’s like the angels themselves are singing a hallelujah chorus, their voices reverberating through every cell in my body.
She finally sees it. Acknowledges it. And not only in the fleeting, half-hearted way she’s done before, like she was scared of what it meant. No, this is different. This is real .
My heart thunders so hard I can feel it in my fingertips, in the spaces where her skin meets mine.
“You’re my person too.” My throat tightens because it feels too big, too good to be true. The universe rarely gives me what I want, but right now, in this moment, she’s here, choosing me.
Even if Alaric had her heart first, even if Koen has a part of this, too, even if she finds solace in Nicholas’s arms, she’s letting me in, cracking the door open just wide enough for me to slip through to plant myself in the spaces she’s kept locked tight. And I’ll take that. I’ll take every inch she gives me, every breath, every heartbeat until she realizes I’m not going anywhere. I’ll patch the wounds others have left behind with my hands, my lips, my fucking soul if I have to.
Her fingers squeeze mine a little tighter like she knows the battle raging in my head.
She’s my person. And I’ll be damned if I ever let her forget it.
I let the water run over her arm, rinsing away the streaks of dried blood. The graze isn’t as bad as I feared, but the sight of her battered and vulnerable has something clawing at my insides. Her skin is cooler than it should be, her weight slumping into me like the strength’s been drained from her bones.
Grabbing the soap, I work up a lather and run it over her in slow, careful circles. I wash her arm gently, avoiding the wound, my thumb ghosting over the curve of her scarred shoulder. She feels fragile , so much more delicate than I know she is, and it scares the hell out of me.
When I tilt her chin up to rinse her face, her lashes flutter, eyes half-opening. “Sparkle,” I murmur with my heart lodged somewhere in my throat. “Stay with me, okay? Just a little longer.”
She hums softly in response, her lips parting a little bit, and I press a kiss to them. The scent of my shampoo mixed with the faint, metallic tang of blood clings to my senses.
I move lower, my hands sliding over her back, her waist, the curve of her hips. I’m careful, so fucking careful. But it doesn’t stop the heat from coiling low in my gut, the way my body reacts to the feel of her skin, the shape of her that I know too well. It’s instinct, muscle memory that I can’t control, and guilt prickles beneath the surface. This isn’t about that . Not now.
But God, it’s hard not to respond to her, with her curves fitting so perfectly against me. I clench my jaw, focusing on the rhythm of the water and the softness of her breath, willing my body to behave .
She shifts, pressing closer, and I bite back a groan, the sensation of her against my hardening cock sending tingles through me. She doesn’t seem to notice, too lost in her exhaustion, but I feel every inch of where her body molds to mine.
Slipping inside her would be so damn easy.
Gritting my teeth, I force my focus back to the task. She needs me to be steady, to be her anchor. I can do that. I will do that. So, I let my hands drift down, washing the last traces of blood away until her skin is clean and smooth under my fingertips.
“All done, baby.” I press a lingering kiss to her temple, my lips brushing against her damp skin. The warmth of the shower clings to us as I guide her out, wrapping a towel around her body with care, mindful of her injured arm. Gently, I tuck another towel around her hair, brushing stray droplets from her cheek with my thumb.
“Come here.” I lift her into my arms and carry her to the sink, setting her down gently so her legs dangle over the edge, her toes grazing the cabinet below. Sliding open the cabinet door, I pull out my first-aid kit, stealing a glance at her. “This might sting.” She flinches as I disinfect the graze on her arm, her muscles tensing beneath my fingers. “Oh, come on. Tough girl can deck a cop in the face, but a little antiseptic is too much?”
The words echo what she said to me that night in her bathroom when she patched up my split lip.
Feels like a lifetime ago.
Her lips curve to let me know she remembers too. “I was trying to impress you with my bravery. But this fucking hurts.”
“I’ll have to be gentle then.”
Her smile is good. It’s the first sign of life I’ve seen since I carried her upstairs. I finish wrapping her arm and set the kit aside, but when I look back at her, she seems heavier, her head dipping.
“Sylus?”
“Yes, baby?” I cup her cheek, tilting her face up to mine.
“How is he?”
“Alaric’s going to be okay,” I murmur, my thumb brushing against her skin. “He’s just… shocked. Scared. This… this is a-fucking-lot. He’s worried he’s not good enough for you anymore.”
“He could never be not good enough for me.” Her green eyes mist over, tears pooling at the edges. “I’m the one who’s not enough for him. I’m a stripper, Sylus. A fucking whore—”
“Stop.” I capture her lips with mine. The kiss is soft but deep, carrying everything I can’t shape into words. She stills, a moment of hesitation before she melts into me, her hands clutching my shoulders. When I pull back, I rest my forehead against hers, my hands framing her face like she might slip away if I don’t hold on tight enough. “You’re perfect, okay? You’re my sparkle.”
“You’re not mad at me? I mean, you said you were okay with Koen, but now, with Ace back and Nicholas holding me—”
“Uh-uh.” I press a finger against her lips, shaking my head. “Let’s not drag that dickhead into this.”
She smirks, the tiniest glimmer of the fire I love so much peeking through. “Sylus.”
And just like that, the worry that’s been simmering inside me bubbles over. It starts as a flicker, a nagging thought I’ve been trying to shove down since Alaric walked through that door. But now it’s a wildfire, impossible to ignore.
What does this mean for us?
Her first love. Her only love. The man she mourned so fiercely, the reason she pushed me away over and over, is alive. Just a few doors down. It changes everything, doesn’t it? The thought digs deep, twisting in my chest until I can’t hold it back anymore.
“I’m not mad about Alaric.” I meet her eyes. “I… I worry you’ll pick him now that you have him back. He had you first.”
Her expression softens, and she lifts her pinky between us in invitation.
Without hesitation, I hook mine around it, the simple gesture binding us tighter than any grand promise could. Her lips brush against our joined fingers, but I capture her mouth in another kiss, one that tells her I’m here, I’m hers , and I’m not letting go.
“I love you,” I breathe out against her lips.
Her breath catches, her eyes still closed, and the silence stretches, the air thick with everything unsaid, the steady rhythm of our breathing the only sound in the room.
Finally, she nods, her free hand rising to cover mine where it rests against her cheek. Her fingers are cool, trembling, but the resolve in her voice is clear when she whispers, “Okay.”
I know what it means, what she means, and what she can’t say yet but obviously feels. So, I brush my lips against her forehead, lingering there, unwilling to break the contact. But the exhaustion etched into her features tugs at me, reminding me she needs more than whispered promises right now.
“Okay.” I shift, looping my arms around her and cradling her against me while I rise and carry her to the bed. Her body yields as if this is where she was meant to be all along.
I set her down, and the mattress sinks under her weight. Her eyes watch me as I cross to my walk-in closet and open a drawer, pulling out a pair of sweats and slipping into them before grabbing a set for her.
“Let’s get you comfortable.” I kneel in front of her, sliding the sweats up her legs. My fingertips brush her calves, her knees, lingering just long enough.
She doesn’t pull away. If anything, she relaxes further, the tension in her shoulders unwinding bit by bit. But when I turn to pull the hoodie over her head, my gaze lands on the scar on her shoulder. I trace the edge of it lightly, feeling the weight of a question pressing on my chest. And since she lets me, since it’s the first time she doesn’t push me away, I let myself ask.
“Is this from the car crash?”
“No. It’s from when I pulled my dead twin out of the car before it caught fire.”
Fuck.
“You had a twin?”
“Yes.” Her eyes drop. “She died. I killed her. Or apparently, Ace and I killed her.”
Her shoulders slump, and she looks so damn small like the weight of the world is finally crushing her. I don’t know how to fix this, how to pull her back from that abyss. My hand rises to her neck, my thumb brushing along her jaw. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could take some of that pain and carry it for you.”
“It feels like I don’t deserve to have him back somehow. She should be happy and alive. We were the ones doing the reckless shit, and now…” Her voice cracks. “Now we’re the ones still here.”
Her words hollow me out. I want to know everything, every detail, every scar, but not like this. Not when she’s so worn down that she can barely stand under the weight of it all.
Before I can overthink it, I grab the hoodie and help her pull it over her head, making her push her arms through the holes. When she’s fully clothed, I trace small circles over her thigh with my thumb. The sight of her in my clothes does something to my heart, and I use it to change the heavy subject.
“You look good in my clothes.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah…” I press a kiss to her temple, “… too good. So, the love of my life is called Novalee , huh?”
She bites her lip to keep from smiling. “She’s called Sparkle.”
I huff a quiet laugh, but it’s cut short by a sharp knock at the door. Koen steps inside, and I instinctively straighten. In his hands is a tray with a steaming bowl of tomato soup and neatly stacked grilled cheese sandwiches. Without a word, he crosses the room and sets the tray carefully on the edge of the bed.
“I’m sorry for not thinking about this sooner.” He crouches in front of Sparkle, taking the spot I’ve just vacated. His expression is softer than usual, a hint of regret flickering across his features. “You lost blood. You need food. I thought you needed rest, and I should have been smarter than that. But Levi—”
“It’s okay,” Sparkle cuts him off, but I don’t let her finish.
“Yeah, you let her rest on Harrington ,” I snap, my irritation bubbling back up to the surface. “What the fuck, brother?”
Koen straightens. “He would’ve never hurt her.”
“I don’t care what he would or wouldn’t have done. He helped us, sure. He helped her and Levi. I’m not disputing that.” My jaw clenches. “But his hands still don’t have to be on—”
“ I decide whose hands are on me.” Sparkle cuts me off firmly. “And for the record, I didn’t mind. I like him. You know that.”
“Which is the fucking problem.” I whip around to face her. “Nicholas-fucking-Harrington? We don’t trust him. Maybe his plan is to whisk you away with his billionaire charm to show you that you’re into rich boys and boring monogamy after all?”
Sparkle narrows her eyes at me and opens her mouth to rightfully whoop my ass, but before she can retort, Koen cuts in. “He’s on our side.”
I huff, crossing my arms. “Sure, he is.”
“Oh, shut it.” Sparkle rolls her eyes at me.
Tension lingers until she breaks it with a bite into one of the grilled cheese sandwiches, followed by a happy hum. The simple sound eases the weight in my chest, and the sight of her eating helps to smooth the frayed edges of my irritation.
“Well…” Koen stands, “… let’s talk this out, then. Get down there and see who stands where.”
“She’s still eating, and her hair is wet,” I protest, glancing at Sparkle, who’s spooning up her soup.
Koen moves toward my en suite, grabbing the hairdryer. Coming back, he sits behind Sparkle and starts to dry her damp hair. God. This could all be so good. Koen, Alaric, and me with her. Eating, living, being a fucking family. Domestic shit.
When Sparkle finishes eating, I take the dishes and set them on my desk. Grabbing a pack of cigarettes, I light one and pass it to her, watching as she takes a drag and blows out a stream of smoke. Koen puts the dryer away, then sits back down behind her, his fingers threading through her hair to start braiding.
“You think clearing things up now is a good idea?” I ask.
“I don’t know, maybe she’s not up to it,” Koen mutters, his fingers weaving through the strands. “She’s already had to explain everything tonight.”
“I’m right here, dickhead.” Sparkle exhales another billow of smoke. “Just because I’ve got you two overbearing mother hens now doesn’t mean I can’t decide stuff for myself,” she says dryly. “And I want to talk this out. But first…” She turns to me, hope flickering in her eyes.
“I bet he’d talk to you if you take it slow,” I assure her softly, then snag the cigarette from her and take a drag myself. “Just don’t push him, and maybe it’ll work. Told you he’s a little scaredy cat.”
Her smile is small but genuine as I stand and put out the cigarette, gathering her matchbox and phone from the en suite. Handing them to her, I help her stand, and we walk to the door. “All right. Let’s do this. His room’s the second door on the left.” I grab her hand and squeeze it. “You’ve got this, Sparkle.”
She takes a breath, nodding, determination flickering behind her eyes. Her fingers move over her phone as she heads toward Alaric’s door. Koen and I linger briefly before heading down the stairs toward the living room.
“Fuck, what a shit show,” I mutter.
“Shit show, indeed,” Koen agrees.
As we make our way downstairs, a heavy weight settles in my chest. The kind that comes from knowing you can’t control everything, no matter how hard you try. The people I care about are scattered, fragile pieces of a puzzle that don’t quite fit together yet.
Alaric’s fighting his ghosts upstairs. Nicholas is tangled in this mess whether I like it or not. And Sparkle… she’s the thread holding all of us together, even when she’s falling apart herself.
God, I want to fix it all.
To hold everything together with my bare hands if I have to. But some cracks can’t be filled by sheer will. They need time. And trust.
But we’re in this together. We always have been. And no matter how tangled things get, we’ll find a way through.
Maybe this can work.
Maybe we’re not as broken as we think we are.
Because if there’s one thing I know for damn sure, it’s that I’m not giving up. Not on her. Not on Alaric. Not on any of this chaotic, fucked-up family.
We’re all a little damaged, a little rough around the edges.
But fuck it—maybe that’s what makes us fit.