4. Nova
CHAPTER FOUR
NOVA
P osey stirs in her sleep as I lift her from her car seat and tuck her body against mine. Her first day at day care went without any issues, but she’s exhausted from a long day of playing. It was a relief when I heard she didn’t have any trouble adjusting to their schedule. Posey doesn’t usually have any difficulties with adjustments like that, but I still wasn’t completely sure how she would handle being in a new place with new people.
According to the woman who runs the day care, she said Posey did amazingly.
Leaving my belongings in the car, I walk along the driveway to the side door of the house. I want to get her inside so she can be comfortable, and then I’ll worry about my own things. As I push open the door, the smell of garlic instantly smacks me in the face. My stomach growls on command as it reminds me that I barely fed myself today.
My first day at work wasn’t bad. It went exactly as expected, and if I’m being honest, it was nice to have in-person human contact again. Working from home as the director of astronomy at the museum came with its own set of challenges. It felt good to be back in the building, surrounded by all my favorite things.
Except for Posey, that is.
I kick the door shut behind me and walk through the mudroom and kick off my shoes before stepping into the kitchen. Nash isn’t the best cook so I have no idea what kind of a disaster I’m walking into right now. Usually he leaves dinner to me because he’s been known to burn a meal or twelve.
His back is to me as he hovers over the stove with his head dipped down with a backward baseball cap covering his hair. I pause just outside of the door that leads into the living room as I adjust Posey in my arms.
“I hope you don’t plan on burning whatever that is because it smells delicious.”
His head lifts, and my eyes widen slightly as I realize it’s not my brother cooking. His messy dark hair shifts as he turns his head to look at me over his shoulder. A smirk lifts his lips, and his bourbon-colored eyes meet mine from across the room.
“Are you doubting my cooking abilities, Nova?”
He slowly turns around, brushing his hands on the apron that’s covering the front of his body. My eyes drop to the graphics on the black material, and I instantly cover my mouth to shield my laugh.
Certified Meat Rubber.
“What?” Lincoln questions me with a playful grin as he grabs the sides of the apron and pulls them out as he looks down at it. His eyes meet mine again. “You don’t like my apron?”
I stifle a laugh, and Posey stirs in my arms again. “I didn’t know you were into rubbing meat like that.”
“There’s a lot of things you don’t know.” Mischief dances in his irises. The air between us grows thick, and my heart pounds erratically in my chest. “Do you like to cook, Nova?”
His question throws me off, catching me by surprise with the abrupt switch. “I do,” I tell him as I nod.
“Why don’t you go put her down and come help me?”
His proposition throws me off kilter even more. Lincoln doesn’t wait for a response as he turns around and moves back to the stove as I stand there like a mute. I stare at his back, my eyes traveling over the visible muscles beneath his white T-shirt. My brain feels like it’s short circuiting, but I get my shit together and head into the living room.
I lay Posey down on the sectional couch and push the ottoman against it, to block her from falling. Just for good measure, I grab some pillows and stack them around her before I cover her with a blanket. I give her one last look and head back into the kitchen to where Lincoln is.
He glances over at me as I step up to the stove, and he pulls open a drawer and hands me an apron. My fingers brush against his as I take it from him. Electricity travels along the nerves in my hand and up my arm from the contact. I inhale sharply and quickly move my hand from his. Lincoln raises an eyebrow at me as the corners of his mouth twitch, but he doesn’t say anything.
I open the apron and see this one has graphic writing on it too. A soft laugh escapes me, and I pull it over my head before tying the back.
I am the secret ingredient.
“What’s with the aprons?” I ask him as he looks over at me with a grin breaking out across his lips. We don’t have a single apron in our kitchen, so they must be Lincoln’s.
“They’re fun,” he explains as he shrugs sheepishly. “They made you smile.”
Heat creeps up my neck, quickly spreading across my cheeks as he stares at me with those pretty, stupid eyes of his. I clear my throat, attempting to brush off his comment, and quickly change the subject. “What are you making?”
“Chicken Florentine.”
“It sounds and smells really good,” I admit as I look at the various pots he’s working on. “When did you start cooking?”
“Hand me that pepper,” he says, pointing to the counter as he reaches for one of the wooden spoons and gives the pan a stir. “I lived off takeout for a solid year before I started to get tired of it.” He takes the pepper from me as I hand him the jar. “I fucked up my ankle and couldn’t play for a little while and ended up falling down a rabbit hole of cooking videos. It was literally just something to do at the time—I didn’t think I’d enjoy it as much as I do now.”
I smile as I imagine him when he was first learning how to cook. Lincoln has always been the type of person that if there’s something he sets his mind on, he’s not going to let anything stop him from doing it.
Lincoln grabs a spoon from the drawer and dips it into the sauce. I watch him as he leans forward and holds his hand beneath it as he brings it to his lips.
“Is there anything you can’t do?”
He glances at me just as he puts the spoon in his mouth. His expression is soft and warm, and there’s something dancing beneath his eyes that I can’t put my finger on. “A few things,” he says quietly as he dips the spoon back into the sauce and turns his body to face me. “Try it,” he suggests as he brings the utensil to my mouth.
I stare back at him, my heart pounding in my chest as his gaze drops down to my lips. I part them, just enough for him to push the spoon against my tongue. His throat bobs and his nostrils flare as I close them around the metal, lightly sucking the sauce from it. His eyes flash to mine as the muscle in his jaw tightens.
My eyelids flutter shut as I savor the taste and release the spoon. It’s light and creamy with just the right amount of flavor. When I open my eyes, I’m met with the intensity of Lincoln’s stare as he watches me. “That tastes really good, Lincoln.”
A fire burns within his irises. “I can only imagine.”
“Something smells amazing,” Nash calls out as he walks over to the fridge. I freeze, my eyes widening as I look past Lincoln at my brother. I didn’t realize he was in the kitchen, and I don’t know how long he’s been in here. “What are you cooking?” he asks as he twists open a water bottle and takes a long sip.
“Lincoln’s making Chicken Florentine.”
Nash tilts his head to the side with his eyes wide. “You are welcome to stay here as long as you want,” he says with a laugh as he comes to inspect the stove. He curls all his fingers to his palm except for his pointer finger, and he plunges it into the sauce.
“Get out of here,” I scold him as I swat at him with my own hand. He quickly steps away, popping his finger into his mouth with a laugh. I accidentally end up smacking Lincoln’s arm.
His hand flies up to grab his forearm and winces. “I think you broke my arm, Nova.”
“Okay, you are both incredibly annoying,” I tell them as I take a step away. Reaching behind my back, I untie my apron and pull it over my head and toss it onto the counter. “I’m going to go change and relax, but feel free to let me know when the food is ready.”
“Come on, Novy,” Nash calls out as I make for the doorway to the foyer. “We know I can’t cook for shit, and I’m sure Lincoln needs some help.”
“Yeah, Novy,” Lincoln says mockingly as he pushes out his bottom lip and gives me puppy dog eyes. “Stay and help me.”
I shake my head at the two of them, a smile spreading across my lips. “Nope. The two of you can manage without me.”
I don’t wait for either of them to respond, but I don’t miss the way Lincoln looks at me before I head into the foyer. The memory of the look he gave me follows me up into my bedroom and bathroom as I remove my makeup and change into something comfortable.
Posey is just waking up when I make my way back to the living room. I glance out into the kitchen, watching Lincoln while his back is to me. It’s hard not to steal glances when he doesn’t see me. I crawl onto the couch with Posey, pulling her against me for a snuggle.
I think I’m going to need to move out.
After dinner, I take Posey upstairs and give her a bath before taking her to her room. She’s still tired from her long day, and I’m thankful I don’t have to go into the museum tomorrow. I’m able to do my work from my laptop at home, so Posey and I will have the day together. I only agreed to working two days a week, so she doesn’t have to spend all her time at day care.
She falls asleep while I’m reading her a story, and I tuck her in before turning on the nightlight and pulling her door shut. Nash is down in the basement playing video games, and I think Lincoln went down with him.
It’s nice seeing the two of them together again.
I slip into my bedroom and go to find my laptop so I can check my emails before going to bed when I remember I never brought it inside. I left my bag and all my things in the car when I carried Posey in earlier, and I never went back out to get them.
My footsteps are light as I head out of my room, down the hall, and back downstairs. It’s silent on the first floor, and the only light is in the kitchen. As I walk past the basement door, I hear my brother let out a string of curse words. I shake my head, snorting as I make my way through the mudroom to the side door.
I slide my feet into a pair of shoes and unlock the door and flip on the outdoor light. It’s dark outside, and I step out into the cool night air. As we’re approaching the end of summer, the temperatures in the evening and night are finally starting to dip to lower than they were during the heatwave we had.
My car is parked outside of the detached garage, and I walk over to it before opening the passenger’s side door. I pull it open and reach inside for my bag and the two insulated cups I took with me. One was for water and the other was hot tea.
Pivoting, I turn back to face the house, and confusion washes over me as I see the hammock in the yard swaying side to side. My stomach does a flip, and it takes me a second to command my feet to move.
I don’t know who the hell it is, and I move my stainless-steel thermos into my right hand as I slowly approach. I’m not sure how much damage it will do if this is some random stranger, but I need to be prepared just in case.
As I slowly approach, relief floods me, and I lower my arm when I see it’s just Lincoln staring up at the sky. I stop beside the hammock, and he lays his head to the side as he looks up at me. I lift my chin and look up at the full moon hanging above us. It illuminates the sky, casting its light across earth. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
Lowering my head, I direct my gaze back to his. He stares at me, his eyes traveling across my face and over my lips before landing on my eyes again. “What are you doing out here?” I ask him.
Lincoln rolls his head straight forward again and looks back to the sky. He’s silent for a moment. “Stargazing.”
A gentle smile dances across my lips, and I shift my weight on my feet as I adjust my belongings in my hands. “You aren’t out here wishing on fake falling stars, are you?”
A soft laugh escapes him. “Some girl told me long ago that those wishes don’t come true.”
“She sounds like a smart girl,” I tell him as I raise my eyebrows as I nod.
He looks back at me, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “The smartest.”
“You didn’t forget what she told you about full moon wishes, did you?”
Lincoln’s nostrils flare. “Never.”
“Good,” I say softly, feeling the intensity of his gaze sliding beneath my skin, like he’s dissecting me with his eyes. So much has changed in the years since I last saw Lincoln Matthews, although the vibrations between us feel like they’ve never dissipated.
It scares the shit out of me.
“I’m going to head to bed. Good night, Lincoln.”
His eyebrows pull together, but he doesn’t question my abrupt exit. “Sweet dreams, Nova.”
I leave him alone with his thoughts under the moon as I slip back into the house. My feet don’t stop moving until I’m tucked away in my bedroom. Only then do I press my back against my door and tilt my head back as I close my eyes in frustration.
Things with Lincoln and I have always been easy and comfortable. There’s always been an electrical current dancing between us. Lingering gazes and full moon wishes. There was an unspoken line drawn between us many years ago. We may have crossed it the night he kissed me, but we couldn’t cross it again.
Even though things feel like they once did before, I need to remind myself that so much in our lives has changed. Lincoln plays hockey professionally—he’s well-known and a star player. I’m sure he has a handful of women he can call at any given moment. I’m just the girl who still chases stars, wishes on full moons, and has a two-year-old daughter who takes up most of my time.
As much as these feelings feel like they used to, things aren’t how they used to be.
I let the idea of Lincoln Matthews go before, and I can do it again.