Chapter 38
THIRTY-EIGHT
A little while later we go into the store without much fuss, quickly gathering what we need. Koen tosses in fresh tomatoes, basil, a box of pasta, cheese, and even grabs my precious Twinkies without a word, only a small smirk when he catches me eyeing the box like a starved woman.
Back in the car, he hands me one as we drive in silence, the low hum of country music filling the space.
My heart still races as we go, and nerves begin to spark with the first acceleration through a busy intersection, but then I focus on the music, chewing, the simple steadiness of Koen’s hand resting casually on my knee, and they dissipate.
Before I know it, we’re pulling up to my place.
Once we’re inside, I’m hit with a mild wave of embarrassment.
My kitchen is a mess—wrappers, takeout containers, and receipts from who knows when cluttering the counters.
I dive right into clearing it up, swiping things off the counter and into the trash, hyperaware of Koen’s eyes on me, that amused chuckle escaping his lips.
“Sorry,” I mumble, my cheeks warming as I bend to swipe an empty ramen cup from the floor and drop it into the trash.
He shakes his head as he takes off his leather jacket and hangs it over a chair, then rolls up his sleeves. “No worries. But move over. Let me handle this.”
A little dumbstruck, I watch as he efficiently clears the rest of the space and wipes it all down before he washes his hands and starts to chop tomatoes and basil with practiced ease.
He moves around my cramped kitchen as if he belongs there, throwing together ingredients with a casual confidence that’s almost mesmerizing.
I lean against the counter, unable to look away as he stirs the simmering sauce. “Why are you so good at this?” I ask, genuinely curious, trying to place this unexpected side of him, measuring it against how I’ve perceived him until now.
“I don’t know.” He shrugs, intent on his work. “I like to cook.”
I grin. “I like to eat.”
That earns me a smirk over his shoulder. “Then I’d love to cook for you more often.”
The easy warmth of his words leaves me a little off-balance. Before I can say anything, he asks, “You have a cat?”
He’s curiously eyeing the little food bowl tucked by the wall, the one Good Lookin’ usually sniffs around when she’s here. “Sort of. She’s a stray who comes by sometimes, but I haven’t seen her in a while,” I answer lightly, but there’s an edge of worry as I add, “I hope nothing’s happened.”
Koen nods thoughtfully as he plates steaming pasta into two bowls. “Alaric’s got a stray too. Oscar found her outside the Lane Building and named her Jinx.”
I take one of the plates from him while his eyes dart around as if searching for a place to sit, and I follow his gaze to the couch, which, unfortunately, is piled high with laundry. My cheeks burn again.
Great, Nova, I’m sure the guy wants to eat next to your dirty panties.
“Um… would you be okay eating on my bed?”
He just smiles, unbothered. “Lead the way.”
In my bedroom, we settle on the bed, our knees brushing as we dig into the pasta.
The flavors hit my tongue. It’s rich and cheesy with the right hint of basil, and I let out a completely involuntary moan.
“God, this is amazing,” I say, savoring every bite.
“You weren’t kidding about being a good cook.
” I glance over at him and catch the faintest blush on his cheeks.
He’s watching me with a look I can’t quite name, soft and a little amused, like he’s genuinely pleased to see me enjoying something he made.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
As we finish eating, Koen reaches over, taking my empty plate as he eases off the bed and returns them to the kitchen. My full stomach makes room for butterflies to swarm as I watch him maneuver through my space as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
What is wrong with me?
To distract myself from the too-domestic sight, I start to braid my hair, and my fingers become clumsy and frustrated. I miss Annabelle. It’s never quite right when I do it myself.
When Koen returns, he’s leaning in the doorway, cocking an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What the hell are you doing?”
I huff, trying to separate the sections again. “A French braid.”
He laughs softly, moving to sit behind me on the bed. “This is anything but a French braid.” His hands gently push mine away, his fingers slipping into my hair. “Let me.”
“You can braid hair?”
“I used to do it for Rosie.” His focus is on the sections he’s creating.
The name sends a pang through me, but I want to ask so much more, to learn more pieces of his life.
A few beats of silence stretch between us as his steady fingers tug confidently at my hair.
“It’s fine.” He seems to feel the question hanging in the air.
“You can ask. She’s been gone fifteen years.
I still miss her every day, but it doesn’t hurt as much anymore. I can talk about her.”
I hesitate only for a moment, but then I think of how he helped me so much today, so maybe talking will ease something for him, too, however small. “What happened?”
“Mom and her, they died in a car crash. Levi and I were with them, but we were in the back seat.” His fingers pause briefly in my hair, then continue.
“You were…” I swallow, feeling a knot of empathy and sorrow in my throat. “You were in the same car when it happened?”
“Yes.” His answer is so quiet I can barely hear it. He inhales slowly, his fingers gently tugging on a strand as he weaves it in. “It was… yeah, it was horrible.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, knowing all too well how it felt then and how he feels now. “How… how did you still drive after that? Or Levi?”
“I don’t know. I guess I loved cars too much.
I made it my escape. Got my license not long after.
Uncle Oscar had a few cars, some fast ones, and I used to take them out after he took us in.
Far too fast, of course. I got in trouble more than a few times.
” He chuckles, though there’s a hollow edge to it. “I guess… that was my way of coping.”
As he opens up to me, it almost feels as though his fingers are weaving calm right into me with each piece of him he exposes, with every strand of hair intertwined. I close my eyes, letting myself sink into it all.
This time, I can’t stop myself from asking, “Is that… is that why you need a hearing aid?” His hands still, and I turn, immediately regretting it when I see the look on his face. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“No, it’s all right.” He nudges me to turn back around, his fingers resuming their work on my hair. “You deserve the truth if we’re doing this.”
This…
The job?
This friendship?
Giving into this… thing between us?
That is the question I won’t allow myself to ask, no matter how far he lulls me into comfort.
“When we started living with Uncle Oscar, Levi wanted to be a magician too. Oscar showed us tricks, taught us the ropes, and eventually got us involved in his shows. Made us the Magic Twins. I think he wanted to give us purpose after… everything.”
I keep quiet as he talks, not wanting to disturb him. His fingers occasionally smooth over strands with a gentle touch as if it soothes him as well. The air is thick with impending emotion, and I can almost sense the effort it’s taking for him to tell his story.
“One time, Levi came up with a new trick. It was an illusion with fire, and he was supposed to get his pigeons out of this box that was rigged to combust. There were no pigeons inside it while that was supposed to happen, of course. But it didn’t work.
When I went to check, standing right in front of it…
” He trails off, and his fingers slow. “The box went off practically in my face. It was… I’m lucky I got away with only a scar. ”
“And… the hearing?”
His fingers glide over the completed work before he pulls me back to rest against his chest, his arms wrapping around me.
“Lost most of it that day,” he says quietly. “I can still hear a bit, but it’s… muffled. Like everything’s underwater or behind thick glass.” He swallows thickly, adding, “Without my hearing aids, I’m… I’m pretty much lost.”
He rests his chin on my shoulder, and I hope he finds comfort in our closeness.
“But they help a lot. They amplify sound, focus on voices, even filter out background noise. In the right conditions, it’s like I almost have my hearing back.
Almost.” His fingers move over mine as he explains, “In a quiet room, it can feel pretty normal. Take them out, though, and I’m left with dull echoes.
So yeah.” His thumb brushes the back of my hand.
“Losing most of my hearing made a lot change. And I guess… I still don’t love people knowing about it.
Sorry for how I acted when you saw the aid. ”
Squeezing his hand, I try to reassure him. “That’s absolutely understandable.”
“The last girlfriend I had, it was… maybe three years ago?” He nuzzles my neck.
“She was with me for the fame, but I didn’t see it at first. Hell, I didn’t want to see it.
She loved the money and the attention Levi and I brought her.
Always wanted to go out, be seen, live in the spotlight, make sure every move was caught by the paparazzi. ”
He huffs against my neck, eliciting goose bumps to creep down my spine. “I guess I was too blinded by everything to see it. I thought… I thought I was in love. Eventually, it became clear that she didn’t give a damn about me.