Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Novalee
The faint scent of vanilla and spices lingers in the air when I wake up, the kind that makes you want to sink deeper into the bed and forget the world exists.
Koen’s bed.
I vaguely remember falling asleep in Sylus’s arms on the couch again last night, half listening to Sylus and Nicholas bickering before Koen and he argued about where I should sleep. Judging by my current surroundings, Koen won.
The sheets are soft against my skin, and for a moment, I let myself pretend I could stay here all day. But the sunlight streaming through the blinds tells me it’s far from morning. I groan, sitting up and rubbing my eyes, then grabbing my phone from the nightstand where it’s been placed and plugged in to charge. It’s already early afternoon.
There are three unread messages waiting for me.
Koen
There are breakfast burritos in the oven keeping warm for you. I’m out with Levi and Sylus to check on some things in the Lane Building. Text me when you’re awake, Little Thief.
Sylus
Hope you slept well, Sparkle baby. I love you.
Ace
I dare you to wear long sleeves and pants and come meet me outside the house.
Ace. He sent it only ten minutes ago, and my heart jumps at the thought of him waiting for me.
I send a quick good morning text to Koen and Sylus before I throw the covers back and swing my legs over the edge of the bed, ignoring the lazy part of me that wants to stay wrapped in Koen’s scent.
The air is cool against my skin, and I look down to find I’m only in my panties and a black shirt that looks like Koen’s.
Huh.
I make my way to Sylus’s room, where he stashed the stuff he brought over for me. Sure enough, there’s a bag with my things sitting by his bed.
The room is a fucking mess, clothes draped over the chair, a couple of gaming controllers scattered around, and empty energy drink cans on the floor. But what makes me stop is the embroidery hoop propped on the bed. The fabric stretched tight across it is adorned with stitched green letters surrounded by pink flowers. GET FUCKE .
I let out a laugh, shaking my head. Next to it are scattered skeins of pastel thread and a needle stuck through the edge of the cloth, like he abandoned the project mid-insult.
Still smiling, I grab my bag and dig through it, pulling out fresh panties, a bra, a pair of leggings, and a hoodie. The thought of him sitting here, probably swearing at the thread while trying to keep the stitching neat, sticks with me as I head to the en suite.
Setting the clothes on the counter, I catch a glimpse of the bandage on my arm. With a sigh, I peel it off carefully, wincing at the raw edges of the graze. The skin looks better, healing slowly but still tender. I grab a tube of cream from the medicine cabinet and smooth a thin layer over the wound, then cover it with a fresh bandage.
Brushing my teeth, I run a comb through my hair, debating for a second whether to put on makeup. But it’s Ace. I don’t need to hide behind foundation and mascara with him.
And he’s waiting for me.
I pull the hoodie over my head, slip on my sneakers, and rush downstairs to the kitchen. Pulling two breakfast burritos out of the oven, I wrap them in napkins and head to the door.
The sunlight is brighter than I expect as I step outside, the air warm against my hoodie. I scan the driveway, frowning when I spot Ace sitting on the bottom step, two pairs of skates lying next to him.
Skates? What the hell?
I walk down toward him, my steps careful as if not to disturb whatever has him sitting there so still. When I reach him, I hesitate for a moment before sitting down next to him, just far enough away that our arms don’t brush, and reach out one of the burritos in my hand.
“You’re on,” I say, waiting for him to make the first move.
His ice-blue eyes flick to mine, and a smile tugs at his lips as he takes the burrito. “Thank you.”
At first, we eat in silence.
And God, is it good.
But while the sound of napkins crinkling and the occasional chirp of a bird fills the air, my thoughts are louder.
Am I sitting too close?
Should I shift farther away?
Would that seem weird? Or maybe it’s better to sit still and act as if I’m not overthinking everything about this moment?
Ace finishes before I do and wipes his hands on his napkin. I take my time, trying to match his ease as I chew my last bite and clean my hands too.
When I put down the napkin, he reaches out, hooking his pinky around mine, and a waft of his burned wood with dark patchouli scent waves over. The scent and gesture make me freeze for a beat, my eyes dropping to where our fingers are linked.
“How’d you sleep?”
“Good.” I look up at him. “Too long. I think I’ve had such a lack of sleep these last few years that now it feels like I’m trying to catch up.”
“Don’t spill bullshit,” he teases. “You’ve always been a long-nights, long-sleeper kind of person.”
I chuckle, looking away to hide all the emotions that bubbled up. His memory of me feels like both a warm embrace and a stab of something sharp. “Maybe.” He doesn’t push further, only nodding, then turns his gaze toward the driveway. “How about you? How’d you sleep?”
“Good,” he answers simply.
“What are we doing out here?”
Ace finally turns to look at me again. “I was talking with Levi and Koen while you were catching up on sleep, ” he says, giving me a pointed side-eye that makes me laugh.
“And?”
“And,” he continues. “We decided to go with the plan outside the Lane Building. On the street.”
“You did?”
“It’ll mean some adjustments to the plan, but Levi’s idea makes sense. More people, more visibility, and a bigger impact. It’s… ambitious.”
Ambitious is an understatement. It’s reckless and bold and utterly Lane. “And you’re okay with that?”
“I am,” he says, hooking his pinky tighter with mine as if trying to ground me in his certainty. “What do you think? You okay with the change?”
“I guess I’ll have to be.” It’s not like I knew the first plan very well.
Hell, I still don’t know the current one, if I’m honest.
Ace’s smile is small but knowing. “Then let’s get to work.”
“So why exactly are we here?”
“The new plan needs you and me to get on skates and deliver a few hundred decks of cards to people in the crowd.” His voice is so casual that he may as well have said we’re grabbing bubble tea.
I glance at the skates sitting next to him, and my stomach drops.
Fuck. I’ll fall on my ass.
But then it clicks, and I snap my eyes to him. “ You? Outside the house? In a crowd?”
Ace smirks faintly, but there’s a nervous edge to it like he’s waiting for me to call him out. “It’s necessary.”
I’m still wrapping my head around the idea when he shifts forward, pulling the skates closer to me. “Please don’t move.”
“What are you…”
Before I can finish the question, he kneels in front of me, his hands reaching for my sneakers. My heart stops for a beat, and I watch as his fingers work at the laces, loosening them before sliding my sneakers off.
The intimacy of it, the quiet, unspoken care in the way he handles my feet, makes my breath hitch. I want to stroke my hand through his hair, but I force myself to stay still.
He slides the skates onto my feet, his fingers brushing against my ankles as he fastens the straps. “That okay?”
I turn the question back on him. “Is it okay for you ?”
Sure, I’m not touching him, but he did touch me a lot.
Ace nods, though there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze. “I talked a lot with my therapist the last few days.”
“Therapist?”
“Yeah. Online. Koen helped me find her. She’s the best money can buy, and she knows her stuff about… my kind of problems.” He glances down at our joined hands, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “It’s not easy, though. Every session feels like ripping out stitches and hoping the wound heals better this time.”
“I’m sorry it’s hard, but you doing that is amazing. I guess I should look for one myself.”
The therapist who gets stuck with me is going to have the field day of their career.
Hi, I’m Nova. I strip for a living, pick pockets for fun, and collect emotional baggage like it’s a Black Friday sale. Oh, and I’ve got a lineup of lovers who probably need therapy more than I do. Good luck untangling this mess.
Ace glances up at me, the corner of his mouth quirking into a half-smile. “You should. For me, it’s already helping. I can give you her contact, or…” His smirk grows. “We could let Koen look for one for you. He’s very good at that kind of thing.”
I arch a brow. “What kind of thing?”
“Throwing money at people until they clear their schedule to make room for appointments with a new client.”
I chuckle again, the sound lighter this time. “Ah. Of course.”
Ace’s laugh is soft, almost a hum, as he finishes tightening the straps on the skates, his fingers brushing my ankle one last time before he leans back on his heels. His eyes scan my face as if to make sure I’m really okay, then he pulls his skates toward him and starts putting them on.
Once he’s done, he stands, towering over me for a moment, then hesitates. “I want to help you up,” he says quietly. “And try holding your hand. But I might need to let go after a few minutes.”
I nod quickly, eager for any contact he will give. “Okay.”
He extends a hand toward me, and when I place mine in his, his grip is firm but careful, as if he’s terrified of squeezing too hard. He pulls me up, steadying me as I wobble for a moment on the skates. His hand doesn’t leave mine, though, and the warmth of his touch spreads through me like wildfire.
“How is it?” I ask when he doesn’t let go of me.
“Much easier than expected.” He squeezes my hand. “Because it’s you . Being with you feels the same as it was before.” He smiles, and that little gesture makes my heart flip. “And I’ve been having some intense sessions,” he admits, his gaze fixed on where our hands are joined. “Because I want to get over this the fastest way possible. My therapist is confident I will. At least with you. But honestly, I only need to be able to touch you and get touched by you anyway.”
My heart catches in my throat. “What did she say?”
“She says I have to remind myself of why this matters to me, why rebuilding intimacy with my girl is so much more important than my fear, and let that motivation guide me.” His thumb strokes over my knuckles. “And to remind myself that you would never hurt me. That you were never the one who hurt me.”
He still thinks of me as his?
“Believe me, Trouble, my motivation is so damn high. I… I need us to talk openly and communicate. And I need you not to be mad at me when I fuck up.”
“Of course.” I roll forward a little on the skates, wobbling slightly, but his grip on my hand tightens, steadying me. “It’s okay. You have trauma. I do too. There’s no rush, no expectation at all. I just… this.” I lift our joined hands. “This is already everything. You have no idea how much it means to me to talk to you. You don’t have to do anything else.”
“I do, Nova. I fucking do. Because I’ve craved you for years. I craved having you back, touching you, kissing you…” he takes a shaky breath, “… and now I could have it. I have you back. You’re here, a fucking miracle back from the dead. And I will not let myself get in the way of what I want.”
Oh my God.
I take a deep breath, but it makes me roll forward a little too far, and the wheels catch on a tiny crack in the driveway. I yelp, the sound embarrassingly similar to the dying baby goat he accused me of sounding like, and flail for balance.
Ace’s other hand shoots out, grabbing my forearm to steady me. Now, both of his hands are on me, and it flusters me more than I care to admit. “I-I’m sorry,” I stammer, trying to laugh it off. “You should’ve let me fall on my ass. That wasn’t some ploy to get you to touch me, I swear.”
Ace lets out a laugh, a loud, carefree sound that’s so much like how he used to laugh. And right then and there, I make a silent promise—I’ll do everything in my power to hear that sound as often as possible.
But first, we have to talk this out. Sylus, Koen, and— God —even Nicholas. The fact that I’m a stripper. I have to tell him. He has to know everything.
“You called me your girl.”
Ace’s lips tug into a smirk. “Caught that, huh?” His grin deepens as his hand reaches up, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip, and the touch makes me suck in a sharp breath. “Nothing’s changed. You still have a say in it.”
His eyes lock onto mine with a gaze so intense it roots me in place, and I see him—not just the man in front of me but the sixteen-year-old boy who first called me his girl. His eyes are the same, but the weight of life has carved something deeper into them. The years, the grief, the separation… all of it falls away.
When I don’t say anything, he lets go of me and pulls up his sleeve, revealing a tattoo on the outside of his left forearm. It’s a match that’s blown out, the smoke curling up his arm in swirls.
“It’s for you.” His eyes stay fixed on the ink. “Some guy made it for me in juvie. It’s to remind me that you gave me your fire. You were my light. And I blew it out. I was left with this. Just a sizzled match and the smoke.”
My throat tightens as I stare at the tattoo, unable to look away. The curling smoke, the silent mourning of life destroyed, yet lingering. It’s like he’s wearing his grief on his skin, carrying the weight of what we lost for years.
But the matchstick… it’s still there, isn’t it?
Not burned away entirely. Just waiting for someone to strike it again.
Waiting for hope.
“But even after years of falling apart…” he continues, his eyes finding mine again, “… there’s still a part of me left for you. Even when I’m broken, I’m yours.”
Something cracks open inside me. I see him as he was, a boy with endless sass and light. And now, here he is, showing me what’s left—a broken gift he’s afraid I’ll reject.
My thoughts spiral. He’s calling himself broken, but what about me? This tattoo is for the other Nova, the Nova from before.
Does he know what it’s cost me to survive?
The question churns in my mind.
He’s saying that I’m his, but does he realize what I am now?
The things I’ve done?
“And you think I’m not? You think losing her and you didn’t break me? You think I’m whole? That I’m sane?”
He freezes, and I see the shock on his face. But I can’t stop now. The floodgates have opened, and the words tumble out. “Do you know what I’ve done to survive, Ace?” The words tear out of me. “Stripping, stealing, drinking until I couldn’t feel anything anymore…” My voice cracks, but I can’t stop. “I let myself be used. I let men touch me, let strangers think I was worth nothing because it was easier than feeling as if I’d lost everything. I spent years fucking random guys trying to forget what it felt like to lose you, lose her, lose myself. Do you have any idea what that does to a person? How it hollowed me out until there was nothing left?”
My chest heaves, and I force myself to meet his gaze, daring him to flinch. “I’ve fucked so many guys I lost track, and you want that? You want me ?” A sob breaks loose while shame crashes over me. “You still think I’m worth it?”
Ace’s expression doesn’t falter. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t wince. His jaw tightens, but there’s no judgment in his eyes, only unflinching certainty. “I don’t think. I know, ” he reassures me. Then, with a faint, crooked smirk, he adds, “And don’t worry about it. You caused me so much emotional turmoil that my soul feels like it got fucked sideways too.”
I blink at him, startled by the bluntness, and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
His dark-fucking-humor.
A watery laugh bubbles out of me, helpless and a little unhinged, and the tension breaks like a dam.
He watches me with a smile, waiting until my laughter fades before reaching out again and cupping my cheek. “Wanna be mine, Trouble? Because damn, I’m still yours.”
Tears prick my vision, and I blink hard, trying to clear them. “I’m still yours too. But…” I swallow hard. “I’m also Sylus’s, and Koen’s, and—”
“Nicholas’s, I know.” Ace pulls me a little closer. “I talked with Sylus and Koen about it earlier when you were asleep.”
“You did?”
Ace nods. “And honestly, I think it’s a good thing. That you have all of us. That we’re all in this for you.” I blink at him, stunned. “It’ll never be the way it once was, Nova. I can never be the same. I bet you can’t either. And I don’t want it to be. I spent eight years longing for the past, for what we had, and it nearly broke me. But now? I long for the days ahead and a future I never thought I’d have with you…” He pauses to let his thumb stroke over my cheek. “If that future includes the people who pulled me out of the hole I was left in after losing you, the people who pulled you out of yours when I couldn’t, I think it sounds like they belong here with us.”
“You do?” My voice cracks, and I sniff, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over.
“Oscar used to say the people meant to be in your life would find their way there, no matter how improbable it seemed.” His lips quirk into a faint smile. “And honestly, this? You, me, them, fucking Jinx…” he motions to the house, “… it’s so improbable, it has to be fate.”
Ace brushes away a tear that slipped down my cheek without me noticing. His hand lingers for a moment, his touch impossibly tender as he leans in, his gaze dropping to my lips and his voice lowering to a whisper. “Or magic.” He pulls back to meet my eyes. “You mine, Trouble?”
I don’t hesitate this time. “I’m yours.”
“Then stay still for me,” he murmurs, his breath brushing against my skin as he leans closer.
When his lips meet mine, it’s barely a kiss. It’s a soft, fleeting touch, more shared breath than contact. But it’s enough to make my entire body react, to make my pulse thunder in my ears as butterflies swarm in my stomach.
I hear my sixteen-year-old self screaming with joy and have to hold back a sob, overwhelmed with everything I’m feeling.
Ace pulls back so his forehead almost touches mine, his hand still cupping my cheek. His eyes remain closed for a moment as if savoring the connection.
And in that stillness, I know— I’m home .
We stay like that for what feels like forever, our breaths mingling in the quiet. My pulse still thrums from the kiss when Ace lets the tip of his nose glide over mine before reluctantly pulling away.
“Come on. We’ve got to make sure you look cool while handing out decks of cards.”
I let out a laugh, wiping the corner of my eye where another stray tear threatens to spill. “Cool? On these?” I gesture to the skates, wobbling dramatically for emphasis. “You’re aiming a little high, don’t you think?”
His lips twitch, the faintest hint of a smile breaking through. “You underestimate yourself.”
“Or maybe I have a healthy fear of falling on my ass.”
“Hey, at least I don’t make you do parkour.”
“Ha-ha.”
Ace and I wobble onto the driveway, though the contrast couldn’t be more glaring. He glides effortlessly as if he’s done this a thousand times while I teeter and clutch his hand like it’s a lifeline.
I can almost hear Rosalee in the back of my mind, mocking both of us in that way only she could. “Honestly, watching paint dry would’ve been less painful than this.”
The ache sneaks up on me out of nowhere.
God, I miss her.
And with Ace back, it’s somehow worse. It’s as though her absence has grown louder, the space she used to fill more glaring now that there’s someone here who knew her the way I did. Who bickered with her, laughed with her.
I blink hard, focusing on Ace as he gives me an encouraging smile. For a moment, it’s enough to quiet the hollow place in my chest.
“You’re doing fine.” His tone is patient but amused as I almost lose my balance again. “Relax your knees a little. If you’re stiff, it’s harder to stay steady.”
“Easy for you to say,” I mutter, trying to loosen up. “I’m one wrong move away from becoming a skid mark on this driveway.”
Ace chuckles, steadying me with a gentle grip on my elbow. “You’ll get better. We’re going to practice every day until the show. Not only the skating but also getting me outside with you. It’ll be good for both of us.”
I glance at him, his confidence calming my nerves a little. “We can’t hand them out by foot, I guess?”
“Nope,” he says, popping the P. “Not fast enough.”
I nod, biting my lip as I try to focus on keeping my balance. “Okay, but you’re going to have to break this plan down for me because I still have no idea what the hell we’re all doing.”
Ace pulls me along gently as we circle the driveway, and it’s already so much easier. “At first, Levi and Koen will kick things off with some magic tricks in honor of Oscar. Something big, flashy. Exactly what he would’ve wanted. After their opening act, we’re going to trick Veronica into joining them onstage for some… interactive magic.”
“That sounds ominous,” I mutter, wobbling again, but Ace steadies me without missing a beat.
He grins. “After that, Levi has a trick planned that involves the audience. That’s where we come in, handing out decks of cards to everyone.”
“Okay, so far, so good,” I say, nodding. “Then what?”
“Once that’s done, Koen will get Belmont, Foster, and Blackwood to the front for a little hypnotism. While that’s happening, the evidence we’ve gathered will be plastered on the screens of the Lane Building.”
“The evidence on the screen outside will look impressive.”
Those things are massive and on all sides of the building.
Ace nods. “Yeah. I’ve got to admit Levi’s idea was a good one. I’d love to have the evidence plastered all around them, though. Make it inescapable.”
“What about the Heights? They don’t have screens, but Sylus said something about projectors. We could try to project it on the front of the building?”
He shakes his head. “I like the idea, but the Heights always has lights pointed at the facade in the dark. It won’t work.”
“Then we’ll put those lights out,” I say, shrugging.
Ace raises a brow. “And how do you plan to do that if Sylus wasn’t able to get access to the Heights?”
“I swiped a key card from an employee when I went in for Levi. Don’t know if it’ll get us everywhere, but we could scope it out. See how far it gets us and if we could make it to a control room. The guy I lifted it from said something about it working in the back.”
He stares at me, a mix of exasperation and admiration on his face. “That’s risky. But fuck, it would be epic.”
I smile. “Then let’s at least take a look.”
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Even if it’s a good idea, it won’t work. My job is to be on the rooftop at that time, breaking into the glass container and the Lambo, getting everything ready for Koen so he can jump in and drive off.”
“I could do that.”
His gaze sharpens. “No.”
“Why not? Breaking into a glass container and a car? That’s child’s play. You know I can handle it.”
“There’s more to it than that.”
“Fine, then I’ll be the one who puts the lights out in the Heights.”
“Fuck no.” He frowns at me. “I’d rather have you up with the Lambo than in the Heights when shit goes down.”
“Then let me do the Lambo.”
“I have to think it through.” He sighs. “ Ugh, another thing to think about.”
“What else?” I ask, skating closer to him. “Maybe I can help.”
He hesitates before answering. “I’m struggling with how to get Belmont, Foster, and Blackwood to show up. Best option would be to send a text from Veronica’s number, but I can’t ask Nicholas to swipe her phone and do it. He’s not a pickpocket, and the stakes are too high.”
I tilt my head. “Should I?”
“No,” Ace says firmly. “Sylus mentioned another way. He could send a text and make it look like it’s from Veronica, but he’d need access to their phones first.”
“That’s way easier,” I say, shrugging.
“You’d think that.” Ace nods reluctantly. “But we’d have to swipe the phone, get it to Sy, distract the mark, and plant the phone back where it was in a couple of minutes. To pull it off, we’d need a fucking mob. A stick, a shade, a mechanic, and a duke.”
I laugh, thinking about building a pickpocket team with all of my guys, Levi, and Erza.
My guys. Fuck.
“So?” I ask. “We’re seven people.”
“Three of them are too recognizable in this city, and one’s a cop.”
“Shit.”
“Yep.”
I pause, thinking. “How about Annabelle?”
“Who?”
“My best friend,” I explain. “She could be the stick.”
Ace hesitates, biting his lip. “I don’t like involving people I don’t know.”
“Then get to know her,” I demand softly. “I want you to meet her anyway. She’s been… all I’ve had for the last six years.”
Something in his expression softens. “I’d love to meet her. Maybe she’d want to go out for coffee with us tomorrow?”
“We’re going for coffee?” I ask, smiling.
He’s leaving the mansion?
He’s not only touching me, not only talking to me about things he’s buried for years. He’s planning to leave the house, to step into the world he’s avoided for so long. And he’s doing it for me—for us .
I try to keep my expression from showing my awe for him as he continues, “Sylus and I want to scope out the rooftop bar at the Plaza again,” he shares as if it’s no big deal. “Make sure everything is the same as it was three months ago. She could come. We could talk. And you could see what it looks like up there.”
“Okay.” Pride swells in me when I think of everything he’s already done—getting a therapist, leaving the safety of his routines, sitting out here with me, talking to me like this, touching me. Every step he’s taken feels monumental, and it makes my heart ache with how strong he is, even when he doesn’t see it.
“Good.” He squeezes my hand. “Now let’s get you skating steady so you don’t faceplant during the show.”
I laugh, the sound spilling out easily, the pride I feel for him making everything feel lighter. “Challenge accepted.”