Chapter 13 #2
“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.