Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Novalee
“Look, Glitter, if you’re not showing up, you need to let us know sooner. We’re already short this week.”
The phone feels heavy in my hand, weighing me down as I respond to the manager on the other end. “I’m letting you know now, aren’t I?” My gaze flicks to Koen, who arches his brow skeptically from where he sits at the kitchen table, sipping his coffee.
Shifting uncomfortably in my chair, I turn away from his penetrating gaze and explain hurriedly, “I’m sorry, but I got hurt. I need a week at most. But I’ll be back.”
My manager doesn’t respond right away, and when I chance a glance at Koen, his lips twitch, and I know exactly what he’s thinking without him having to say a damn thing. He thinks I need a longer break.
I narrow my eyes at him because what I need is not to lose my job.
Or to be dependent on anyone but myself.
The manager finally lets out a huff. “Fine. But you better call before next week if you can’t make it. We’re not holding spots.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I mutter in agreement, fixing my gaze on the empty plate in front of me. Koen made an early dinner of mac and cheese that was so good I’m tempted to lick the plate clean as soon as I’m off this phone call. All that’s left from our meal now is a lone breadstick, golden and perfect, and it’s calling to me.
Koen stands with his empty coffee cup in hand and reaches for my plate with a pointed look, but I’m faster. I snatch the breadstick off it, holding it protectively like a prize, and glare at him.
Mine.
“Thank you, you’ll hear from me soon,” I say into the phone, cutting her off mid-rant about my no-shows and hanging up before she can respond. I slam my phone down and bite into the breadstick at the same time, letting out a satisfied hum when the buttery, garlicky goodness melts in my mouth.
Koen puts my plate into the dishwasher, closes it, and then leans against it, smiling lazily at me. “You looked done.”
“Not with this.” I take another pointed bite.
Levi chuckles softly from where he’s also sitting at the table, scrolling through his phone while Pebble appears to doze on his shoulder. Ezra’s beside him, absently spinning a pen between his fingers.
“Is there a reason you didn’t tell them you’d need more than a week?” Koen casually asks as he pushes off the counter and walks back to the table.
I bristle at his tone. “Because I don’t know what next week looks like. And because I’m not planning on being here forever.”
Koen’s smile fades, and he stops in his tracks. “Novalee—”
Fuck, it’s so strange hearing my name out of his mouth. Hearing it from all of them, really.
“Don’t,” I warn, pointing the breadstick at him like a sword. “I’m not discussing this.” His jaw works for a moment like he’s fighting the urge to argue, but he sits back down in his chair instead, watching me with that assessing look that makes my skin crawl. “I’m not going to lose my job because of this,” I add defensively.
I’m still not one hundred percent sure where I’ll end up when all of this is over.
Koen’s gaze softens as if he can truly hear my thoughts, but before he can argue, Ezra pipes up from the counter, “How about we table that discussion until we survive the dinner tomorrow.”
I groan as I drag my free hand over my face. “Don’t remind me. I’m trying not to think about it.”
“Good luck with that,” Levi mutters. “I tried to block it out, but I know Veronica’s got something up her sleeve. She always does.”
The room falls quiet, and I shove the rest of the breadstick into my mouth, chewing slowly.
When I woke up in Sylus’s bed—alone—it was already early evening. I’d slept the night and half the next day away, and after a quick audit of my body, it seemed all Sylus did was sleep next to me. Eventually, I managed to get up and take a shower, and the moment I came down, Koen wordlessly put a plate of the best damn food in front of me as if he knew exactly when I’d arrive. And how hungry I’d be.
And what I needed.
Sylus strolls into the kitchen, his footsteps light as he stops behind me, pressing a kiss to my temple. His lips linger for a second longer than they need to, a reminder of what I could have. “Good morning, Sparkle baby.”
“It’s evening.”
“Not for you, sleepyhead,” he counters, his fingers brushing lightly through my hair. The motion is so gentle it makes my shoulders relax automatically. “I’ll head out to grab your stuff. Anything in particular you need?”
I turn in my seat to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Why would you do that?”
“Because you’re staying with me.” His grin is utterly shameless. “At least for a while, until you’re feeling better.”
“Stop that shit,” I grumble, shooting him a glare, but there’s no real heat in it. “I’m fine.”
“For me?” he asks pleadingly, his pout too tender to fight against.
I sigh as my resistance crumbles. “I need a lot of fucking shit,” I admit. “For that god-awful dinner, I’ll need my makeup, and… shit, I don’t even know what to wear to a fancy-ass place like that.”
Koen snorts. “It’s a trap, not a dinner.”
“I still want to look appropriate for the trap, ” I argue, ignoring his answering smirk. “Can I wear one of the dresses you bought me?”
“No, the fuck?” Levi cuts in. “Of course not. We’re not wearing the same dress twice. What are we? Peasants?”
“Yeah, well, not everybody has the money to buy a new dress for every occasion,” I say bitingly, glaring at him.
“Good thing we’re not everybody, then.” Levi gives me an incredulous look. “Can you give me free rein to go get you a better wardrobe? Trust me. You’ll thank me.”
“What? No . I just need something to wear for that dinner. Otherwise, I’m fine, Dove.”
I frown, realizing his nickname feels strange after our blow-up yesterday. He doesn’t seem mad anymore, but there’s still a nagging doubt in the back of my mind. Maybe he’s looking for an excuse to buy me something ridiculous out of spite.
I wouldn’t put it past him.
Crossing my arms over my chest as a last line of defense, I sigh. “I’ll wear the black dress from your birthday again.”
Koen raises an eyebrow. “That’s way too much for a simple dinner, even if it is a nice restaurant.”
“Oh, now you’re critiquing my wardrobe?” I shoot back. “Big talk coming from you.”
Koen chuckles at my sass, and damn if it doesn’t do things to my heart. “Let him get you a dress. He’s good at it.” He turns his pretty face to his brother with a pointed look. “And one dress, Dove. Just one .”
“Perfect!” Levi claps his hands excitedly, waking Pebble up before standing and grabbing Ezra’s wrist, pulling him to his feet. “Come on, Ezy baby, we’re going shopping.”
Ezra looks at me with a mixture of dread and pleading, and I have to suppress a laugh at the sheer misery in his eyes as Levi drags him toward the door.
I’m still watching them go when Sylus catches my face in his hands and kisses me. It’s playful at first with light brushes against my lips, then it suddenly deepens into something that sends sparks racing through me. When he finally pulls back, I’m a little breathless, and his grin is utterly smug as he asks, “Anything else you need?”
I blink, taking a moment to recover and process his question. “I don’t know… casual stuff.” I look down at the sweatpants and a shirt I’m wearing of his again. “And if you’re okay with me wearing your stuff to sleep—”
“Baby,” Sylus chuckles, cutting me off. “You can have all of my stuff, but honestly, sleep naked. Makes shit easier.”
Koen makes a disgruntled noise as he shoots Sylus a look full of silent reprimand.
“Ha-ha, fucker,” I mutter, making Sylus laugh harder.
“I’ll bring a little of everything,” he promises, stepping back. “And if I miss something, I’ll go again.”
“I can go get my stuff,” I protest. “I’m not bedridden or anything.”
Sylus shakes his head. “Nope. But you are hurt.”
“It’s a graze, ” I argue. “It’s not that bad.”
He leans in again, brushing his lips against my forehead this time. “You stay here and relax for today, okay? I’ll be back, Sparkle.” There’s so much care wrapped in his words that it’s hard to keep arguing with him.
I watch him leave, then I turn to Koen. “And you?” I ask, raising a brow. “Are you going to mother hen me too?”
Koen leans back in his chair, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Of course I am.” I groan dramatically in response as he stands up from his seat. “We should go have a nap.”
“I just woke up. I’m not tired.”
“How about we go to my room and hang out for a bit? Listen to some music?”
I hesitate, the idea tempting but not quite enough to help with my anxiety. “Talking strategy for tomorrow’s dinner would be nice,” I admit. “I have no idea what the hell we’re doing.”
“Course,” he agrees as he holds out his hand. “Let’s do that.”
His brown eyes hold me hostage as I slide off the chair. Then he smiles, and I return it automatically as he tugs on my hand and guides me upstairs.
Koen’s room smells like him—warm spices, vanilla, and safety, all of it wrapping around me the moment I step inside. The space is calm, tidy, and composed. There’s also a quiet elegance to it, the dark tones, black and deep grays, so different from the chaotic mess of my apartment. There’s a computer set up in one corner, shelves packed with books, cookbooks mostly, and picture frames arranged thoughtfully on surfaces. It’s cozy in a way I wasn’t expecting.
Just like him.
One of the frames on his bookshelf catches my attention, and I brush past him and pick it up. A beautiful girl with dark hair and eyes stands between two younger versions of the twins. They’re identical here—no blond hair or piercings to set Levi apart, no beard on Koen to distinguish him. They all look so happy, and it makes my heart constrict painfully.
“This is Rose?”
Koen’s bare arm brushes against mine as he looks at the photo. “Yeah.”
“She was beautiful,” I say, truly meaning it as I glance up at him beside me.
A small smile pulls at his lips, but his eyes are sad. “She was so much more. Cocky, sassy, funny. The best big sister. She always knew how to keep us in check.”
I huff a quiet laugh as I look back at the picture, imagining it. “She sounds amazing.”
“She was,” he agrees. We both look at the picture together for a few moments before he asks, “How was your Rosie?”
“She was… the opposite. Introverted, nice, responsible, and so damn kind.” My gaze rakes over him as I think of the moments we’ve shared so far, the way he’s made me feel. “She was a lot like you, honestly.”
“Funny.” He nudges his leg against mine. “I was just thinking about how my Rosie was a lot like you.”
I grip the photo tighter as the comment—the compliment—lands deep inside me, almost too far for me to grasp. “Sounds like we would have been good friends.” Then, I murmur quietly to myself, “I still need to bring her flowers.”
I set the frame back down carefully, doing my best to situate it exactly as I found it, and my fingers linger on the edge as if reluctant to let go.
Koen steps into my space and grasps my fingers with one hand as he lightly touches my chin with the other, tilting my face toward him. “You do?”
The grip feels more like a comfort than a command, and I answer his question honestly, “I sat with her for years and never thought about it. I should’ve brought her roses.” My gaze flicks between his deep brown eyes. “She deserves roses, Koen.”
He swallows thickly, then releases my chin and smiles. “You brought her one of my favorite wines, even if she was underage.”
I wince at the reminder of how we met. “Yeah, sorry about that.”
“Don’t be,” he says with a genuine laugh, his long hair swinging forward with the motion. “I’m glad you were spending time with her. Honestly, I wasn’t there enough. I should’ve been.”
We lock eyes for a long, charged moment before he asks, “Do you want to—”
The buzzing of my phone cuts through the moment, and I’m not sure whether to be relieved or not. “Hold that thought.” I sigh, my stomach doing a flip when I pull it out and see who’s calling.
Nicholas.
What the hell is this about?
“It’s Nico,” I say with a frown, glancing up at Koen.
“Take it,” he instructs as he steps away with an unreadable expression.
My thumb hovers for a second before I swipe to answer. “Hey, Nico. I’m glad you’re calling. I’m with Koen and—”
“Good,” he answers sharply. Okay . “I wanted to call him next. Put me on speaker, please.”
My brows furrow as I glance at Koen, who’s watching me curiously. I shrug and press the speaker button, holding the phone between us. “You’re on.”
“You okay?” Koen asks, and there’s genuine concern in his tone. It’s not the first time I’ve noticed that Koen absolutely does give a fuck about his former best friend, contrary to what everyone else thinks.
Nicholas exhales heavily on the other end. “Let’s just say I had a conversation with Veronica yesterday, and… I think you’re right.”
Koen frowns. “About?”
Nicholas goes quiet for three long seconds. “About Oscar’s death not being a heart attack.”
Koen goes completely still. “What did she say?”
“Nothing outright. But I know her. And… yeah. It makes sense. She did it.”
“And what exactly are you telling me now?” Koen’s jaw tightens, his knuckles whitening as his fists clench. “Why are you calling?”
“I want to help,” Nicholas answers simply.
“With what?”
Koen’s questions are getting more curt by the moment.
“Help… stopping her. Listen, I think she wants to do the same to you and Levi. And honestly, even if you’re a fucking dickhead, and I hate him…” There’s a pause, and then Nicholas adds more quietly, with real fear in his voice, “I don’t want you to die.”
My eyes widen as I snap all my attention to Koen.
What the actual hell?
She wants them dead?
Koen blinks, clearly caught off guard enough to start using full sentences. “Yeah, I don’t want you to die either, man. But what you’re suggesting is fucking dangerous, not only for us but even more so for you.”
“I don’t think so. I’ll play my part. I already told her I want to be more involved in the family business .” Nicholas practically spits the words. “She thinks it’s because of Novalee. Or rather, Rosie. Whatever. She thinks I’m in love and trying to impress her, but she doesn’t care about the why of it as long as I step up.”
Koen leans back, crossing his arms. “ Are you only doing this because you’re in love and trying to impress her? Because this is going to fuck your life up, Nico. Do you even see that? If we take your mother down, we’re bringing down everything she owns, which, by the way, is also everything you own. You would help us ruin your own reputation.”
“Yeah, well…” Nicholas doesn’t miss a beat. “You know I don’t give a fuck about that money.”
Koen glances at me and then to the phone. “I know shit about you now.”
“I’m still the same, man,” Nicholas shoots back. “You’re the one who pushed me away.”
“Just because you —”
“Guys!” I cut in, throwing my hands up. “Can we save the bickering for another day?”
Koen sighs, rubbing his temples. “Yes, Nico, having you on our side would help. Not just because of the evidence. But I don’t know if we can ask you for this.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”
“And how do we do this?” Koen sighs.
“She’s planning to get into business relations with you,” Nicholas says. “She wants to lure you in by playing nice, then strike when you’re vulnerable.”
“So,” I interject. “You definitely shouldn’t get into business relations with her.”
“Wrong.” Koen shakes his head. “We definitely should.”
“What?” I blink at him. “How does that make any sense?”
“We get close.” Koen gestures toward the phone. “Make her feel as though we trust her. Go along with whatever plans she wants us to. Having her trust us will make getting the evidence and pulling off the new show so much easier.”
“New show?” Nicholas asks.
“Yeah. We only need the evidence for Oscar’s murder and to tweak some stuff we had already planned for the Christmas show when he…” Koen pauses.
When Oscar died.
“Anyway,” he continues. “The evidence is crucial. We have most of what we need otherwise.”
There’s a beat of silence before Nicholas speaks again. “I’ll see what I can do. But the game plan for tomorrow is cozying up with her, I guess?”
“Exactly,” Koen agrees.
“Good. I’ll have to keep up the facade with you guys, though, or it’ll be too obvious.”
“Facade, huh?” Koen smirks. “You back to liking me, Snickers ?”
“You always thought too much of yourself, Copy .”
I glance between the man in front of me and my phone. What the hell is going on?
Koen chuckles, shaking his head. “See you tomorrow, dickhead.”
“Yeah,” Nicholas agrees, then his voice drops mockingly. “Eat shit.”
The line goes dead, and Koen lets out an audible breath, seeming to think over the conversation. I do the same, though only one fact keeps turning over in my mind.
She wants them dead.
“Do you think…” I start, hesitating. “Do you think she wants to kill you? You and Levi?”
“I don’t know, Little Thief.” Koen’s eyes soften as he looks at me, but there’s no denying the seriousness in them. “Maybe. Probably .”
A shiver runs through me. “This is all insane. I don’t even know how we’re supposed to pull this off. I mean, having Nicholas on our side is good, but—”
Before I can spiral further, Koen is in my space, his hands cupping my face moments before his lips are on mine. Despite its start, it’s not rushed or desperate. The kiss is firm and steady like he’s trying to pour all his calm into me. His thumbs caress my cheekbones, and his hair mingles with mine. After several perfect kisses, I realize that my mind has quieted, narrowing to only him.
As if he senses the realization, he pulls back, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks one more time. “We’re going to figure it out. Having Nicholas on our side is a game-changer. This is good, Novalee.” His hands slide down the sides of my neck as his gaze holds mine. “I promise.”
I nod, swallowing hard as I absorb his certainty. Now that he’s untangled my mind, new questions form. “Do you think you guys could ever… be friends again? You and Nicholas?”
Koen huffs as his hands ghost down my arms and drop to his sides. “I never stopped being his friend,” he says quietly. “I just… stopped acting like one. I had to pick Levi over him.” His gaze flicks toward the door as if he somehow knows which direction his twin might be in. “And I’d still pick Levi. Every time. ” His attention returns to me, but his eyes are stormy. “But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt to lose Nico.”
It’s clear the conflict still weighs on him, even after all these years. It’s written in the subtle drop of his shoulders, the way he tries to hide the ache by glancing away from me when I try to look more closely.
“Koen,” I softly say when he doesn’t meet my eyes again, and I brush my fingers against his arm, wanting to comfort him but unsure how.
He shakes his head, then offers me a small, strained smile. “It’s fine. We’ve got bigger things to worry about.”
It’s not fine. I can see that. But instead of pressing, I cast my gaze around the room for something to shift the energy and notice the guitars hanging neatly on the wall.
“Those are yours?” I ask as I grab his arm and pull him with me toward them.
“Yeah,” he replies, apparently back to single-word answers.
“They’re beautiful.” I reach toward the mahogany body of one. “Which one’s your favorite?”
That seems to bring him to life somewhat, enough for a small smile to form as he reaches past me and takes down the one I was about to touch. “This one,” he says, holding it with reverence. “She’s been with me the longest.”
I smile at that. “Would you play a song for me? You did mention music before hauling me up here.”
He glances from the guitar to me for a moment, still smiling, then nods. “Of course.”
My pulse quickens as he sits in his desk chair and swivels toward me, gesturing for me to sit opposite on the edge of his bed. He takes a pick from a small tin on his desk and strums a few chords as I get comfortable on his bed, folding my legs behind me.
It plays as beautiful as it looks.
“This song…” he glances at me with a spark in his eyes, then he refocuses on the strings, “… is called “Beautiful Crazy” by Luke Combs. It reminds me of you.”
The opening notes flow from his guitar, and for some reason, my cheeks heat. Then he begins to sing, and that warmth spreads all the way to my toes. His voice carries an emotion so raw it feels like a hand reaching out to cradle my heart. It’s almost overwhelming, but I can’t look away from it. From him. And when he looks at me, meeting my gaze straight on as his voice dips, my pulse trips over itself.
But then the lyrics register, and a laugh bubbles out of me. Koen’s lips curve into a small, satisfied smile, but he keeps on playing, keeps singing.
When the chorus lands, my laughter falters, quieting as the softer, sweeter parts burrow under my skin.
That’s what makes me drop his gaze and study his bedspread as I continue listening.
This song. It’s me. All the messy, chaotic parts of me I’ve tried to hide or downplay.
He sees me.
Every bit of me, even the parts I thought weren’t worth noticing.