Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Novalee
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.
“One night, my hearing aid started acting up.” He starts hurriedly as if trying to get through the story quickly. “I was in the middle of a crowded event, and everything suddenly went quiet, like a wall of sound dropped. I went to find her, told her I needed help getting somewhere quieter, that I couldn’t hear a thing. It wasn’t bad, but… I fucking panicked. And she… she left me there like I was some inconvenience. Made up some excuse I couldn’t hear and disappeared into the crowd.”
“ Fucking bitch ,” I mutter, making him laugh.
“That was the moment I realized what she was in it for. She didn’t care about me, not really. It was all about the perks, the lifestyle. And when I ended things, she threatened to go to the media with everything she knew. I ended up paying her off to keep her quiet.” The bitterness in his tone is unmistakable. “It’s… hard to know who to trust after that, you know? Something like that teaches you not to let people in.”
I hum in sympathy and understanding. “I’ve learned the same.”
“Yet here we are.” He presses the softest of kisses to the place where my neck meets my shoulder. “Friends , after all.”
Friends.
With Koen’s arms wrapped around me and the pieces of ourselves we’ve shared settling between us, something shifts inside me. Something similar to safety that I’ve never allowed myself to feel. It’s dark and quiet, but here, in the shelter of his arms, I feel my confession rising, aching to be let out, to be released.
With all my courage gathered and a shaky breath, I say, “I… I lost my twin sister.”
He stiffens in surprise. “You’re a twin too?”
“And my boyfriend,” I continue. “They… they both died in a car crash. And it was all my fault, Koen.”
His arms tighten around me, but he says nothing this time, instead silently encouraging me to go on, to let it out. So I do. “I stole a car that night,” I admit, each word heavy with the weight of years of guilt, shame, and grief. “A fucking Mustang.” I huff. “And then I… I urged him to go faster, to…” My voice starts to shake, and a tear slips down my cheek as I whisper, “To speed away from the police.” I swallow against the ragged knot in my throat before confessing, even more quietly, more brokenly, “All the while, my twin was in the back seat, begging us to stop.”
I’m hardly aware of Koen as he remains quiet behind me, barely registering his attempts to soothe me with a gentle stroke down my arm.
“We… we crashed. And they were both…” My voice breaks completely, and the dam inside me shatters. “They were both dead on impact. I… I survived. I didn’t deserve to.” Wracking sobs take over my body, and I crumble, my misery spilling out in a torrent of grief I can’t hold back.
Koen pulls me hard against him, almost making it difficult to breathe as if he’s trying to absorb my pain. His breath is warm against my ear as he whispers, almost a lullaby, “It wasn’t your fault, precious.”
“Eight years…” I gasp raggedly, “… eight years, and it still feels as though it just happened. I miss them every single day. It’s like… I’m barely holding on.”
He shifts me sideways onto his lap with ease, one hand coming up to cradle my cheek. “You’re not just holding on,” he says firmly, his eyes locking onto mine. “You’re so damn brave.”
A bitter laugh escapes me. “You consider relying on alcohol and meaningless sex, brave? Because that’s what I’m doing, Koen. That’s how I get through each day. And you’ve taken one of those things away from me.”
He frowns, but his hand remains gentle, his thumb brushing lightly over my chin. “You’re here,” he says it with praise, his tone unwavering. “That’s not nothing. You’re surviving. Every single day, you’re fighting, even when it feels like it’s just barely. That’s courage. I know how it feels when everyone you love dies around you. My mom, my sister, Uncle Oscar. I lived it. Living like this is hard when we’re the ones who are still here.”
That breaks something inside me, and another sob escapes, raw and unrestrained. He wraps me close, letting me sink into him as he guides me to lie half on top of him. The cocoon of his arms is steady as his hand moves in slow, comforting circles on my back as I cry. Gradually, the knot of grief and tension loosens enough for my sobs to soften, my breaths eventually falling in sync with his until all I’m left with is exhaustion.
As my tremors settle, he starts to shift away, pulling his arm back carefully, but I instinctively reach for him. “Can you stay? Please? I… I can’t be alone after… after thinking about them, talking about them.”
“Of course. I’ll stay as long as you need.”
Suddenly desperate to be comfortable, I slip off my leggings and hoodie, leaving myself in my T-shirt and panties, before I crawl under the covers. He hovers by the bed for a moment, looking almost lost, and I let out a sleepy yawn. “Get comfortable, Koen.”
He strips down to his T-shirt and boxers, then reaches up and removes his hearing aids, placing them carefully on the nightstand beside my bed. He gives me an almost vulnerable smile, and it hits me how much he’s continuing to let his guard down too. It wasn’t only in his words. He’s showing me something real through his actions.
He slips under the covers, settling beside me as he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me close again.
Some adrenaline must have lingered from my emotional collapse because after several long moments of fidgeting, Koen commands, “Sleep.”
It’s barely a whisper, but it wraps around me like a weighted blanket. And even though there’s no hypnosis this time, no suggestion buried in his words, the safety he offers allows me to sink into it.
My eyes drift shut as I tune into the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beside me.
And before I even realize it, I’m drifting off, nestled securely in the quiet comfort of Koen Lane.
The night air is warm, and there’s a wild energy buzzing between the three of us as we stroll down the empty street. The stars hang above us, dots of silver sprinkled across the velvet sky, and I feel as if I could conquer the whole damn world with Ace by my side and Rosalee trailing behind, muttering under her breath.
“Will your sister ever stop hating me?” Ace asks, glancing back at her with a smirk.
Ace’s arm is draped over my shoulder, his thumb tracing light circles against my skin. His eyes are alight with that spark—the one that says trouble is always just around the corner.
Rosalee huffs, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “I don’t hate you, Ace,” she retorts, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I think you’re an insufferable idiot.”
“Ouch.” Ace grins as he looks at me. “You hear that? I’m an idiot.”
“Well, she’s not wrong.” I laugh, nudging him. “You are kind of an idiot.”
Ace gasps dramatically, clutching his chest like I’ve wounded him. “Betrayed by my own girl! You’re breaking my heart, Trouble.”
I glance back, and Rosalee rolls her eyes, but there’s also a tiny smile tugging at her lips.
We’re about to pass a gas station when Ace suddenly stops, his eyes zeroing in on something ahead. I follow his gaze and spot it immediately—a black Mustang parked off to the side, its paint glistening under the station lights.
“Well, isn’t that your dream car,” Ace whispers, almost reverently. He turns to me, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “What do you think, Trouble? Feel like having a little fun?”
“What kind of fun?” I ask, even though I already know what he’s going to say.
Ace grins, his teeth flashing in the dim light. “I dare you to break in and steal it.”
“Are you serious?” Rosalee snaps, sharp with disbelief. “Nova, don’t even think about it. That is insane!”
Ace ignores her, his gaze locked on me. “C’mon, Trouble, what’s the point of living if you’re not gonna have some fun?”
A thrill races through me, and I grin, my heart already pounding with fear and excitement. “Let’s do it.” Without a backward glance, I pull away from him and head toward the Mustang.
Rosalee groans behind me, but she doesn’t protest further. When I reach the car, I quickly glance around to make sure no one is watching as I pull out the little set of tools Ace gave me for my birthday. My hands move almost automatically, muscle memory taking over as I work to get the door open. Within moments, I hear the satisfying click, and the door swings open.
Ace whoops, rushing over to me. “That’s my girl!” He pulls me into a quick kiss. His lips are warm, and the rush of adrenaline makes everything feel sharper, more alive.
“Get in!” I laugh, pushing him toward the front of the car before sliding into the driver’s seat. Ace rounds the car and opens the passenger door, then pulls the seat forward. Rosalee reluctantly climbs into the back, muttering something about how this is the worst idea we’ve had yet, while Ace pushes the seat back and slides in.
“You know I don’t have a license, right?” I muse as I start the car, the engine roaring to life beneath me.
Ace grins, his eyes glinting with excitement. “We’re stealing a car, and you’re worried about having no license?”
I shrug. “Fair.” Then I hit the gas, the Mustang lurching forward as we speed out of the gas station. The car moves like a dream, the engine purring beneath me, and it feels as if we’re flying, free and unstoppable.
“Faster, Trouble!”
“I’m trying!” I shout back. The truth is, I’m not great at this. I’ve driven a few times, sure, but never anything compared to this. My hands grip the wheel tightly, my heart pounding hard as the car jerks violently when I struggle to change gears. Ace reaches over, his hand covering mine on the stick. “All right, all right,” he says through a laugh. “Pull over. I’ll drive before you fuck up the clutch.”
I do as he says, and we switch seats, Ace sliding into the driver’s side. He gives me a wink, then hits the gas, the Mustang roaring to life as we take off down the empty road, the back end fishtailing from the abrupt speed.
“You two are going to get us killed,” Rosalee hisses from the back seat, her hands gripping the headrest in front of her.
“Relax, Glitter,” Ace calls back, his eyes focused on the road. “We’re just having some fun.”
The world outside blurs as Ace goes faster, racing through the streets. I’m laughing, the wind whipping through the open windows, the high of it all making my heart soar. Unable to help myself, I lean over and smack a kiss on his cheek.
“You’re crazy,” I yell over the wind and engine.
“Only for you, Trouble,” he yells back.
The sound of sirens cuts through the night. My laughter dies in my throat as I turn in my seat and see the flashing red and blue lights in the distance.
“Shit,” Rosalee curses, mimicking my thoughts as her face pales. “Ace, pull over. Don’t make this worse.”
“What do you think, Trouble?” Ace glances at me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Should we give them a little chase?”
My heart leaps in my chest, and without thinking, I nod. “I dare you to outdrive them.”
Rosalee’s voice rises in protest, but Ace hits the gas even harder, the Mustang surging forward as the sirens grow louder behind us. We race through the streets, faster and faster, and I’m laughing again, the adrenaline coursing through me like a drug. The world outside is a blur of lights and shadows, and it feels as though we’re untouchable like nothing can catch us.
“Stop!” Rosalee shouts from the back, frantic. “Please, just stop! Let me out!”
But we don’t stop. Ace keeps driving, faster and faster, a smirk on his lips.
And then…
It happens in an instant. A sharp turn, screeching tires, the world tilting violently. My laughter turns into a scream as the car flips, the sky and ground swapping places over and over again. I’m thrown against my seat, the seat belt biting into my skin, the sound of metal crunching and glass shattering filling my ears.
The airbag explodes in front of me with a deafening pop, slamming into my chest and face, cutting off my breath. Pain explodes in my ribs, and everything goes dark.
When I come to, there’s a sharp, throbbing pain in my head and my side, and the world is a blur. My vision swims, and I groggily push against the deflated airbag. The acrid stench of burned rubber and chemicals lingers in the air, choking me, and when I reach up to my temple, my hand comes back bloody. I blink, trying to clear my sight, and I turn my head, my heart plummeting as I see Ace slumped over the steering wheel, motionless, with blood running down the cheek I’d kissed minutes before.
His airbag didn’t deploy.
“Ace?” I croak. The tremors in my hands are so bad that I can hardly move. Shakily, I reach over and fumble for his pulse, but there’s nothing.
“No,” I try to shout, but it comes out as a faint whisper. “No, no, no!” The word rips from my throat, finally turning into a guttural scream that echoes in the silence of the car. Tears blur my vision as I grab his jacket, shaking him. “Please, Ace. Please, wake up. Don’t do this to me. Don’t leave me!”
He can’t leave me.
“Rosie, you have to help me. He’s not waking up,” I plead. “And there’s so much blood.” I keep shaking Ace for several long moments before I realize that Rosie hasn’t answered me. “Rosie?” I turn in my seat, and my mind fills with static when I find her slumped against the back seat, her eyes closed, and blood running out of her nose.
“Rosie!” I scream, my already cracked heart now full-on shattering in my chest. Pain radiates through every part of me as I unbuckle my seat belt, but I don’t care. I have to get to her. I have to make sure that at least she’s still alive.
“Please, Rosie,” I sob, crawling into the back seat next to her, my entire body aching, every inch screaming in agony. “Please wake up. Please, don’t leave me. You can’t both leave me.”
I touch her face and leave bloody fingerprints on her cheeks, but she doesn’t move.
Rosalee.
Half of my soul is dead.
A wail tears from my soul, a sound so full of pain and anguish that it barely sounds human. I press my forehead to hers, my tears falling onto her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Rosie. I’m so, so sorry.” Each word is a struggle as I choke on my sobs.
The smell of smoke fills my nose and makes me choke even worse. With a sickening jolt, I realize the car is on fire. Panic claws at me as I lean into the front seat and see the flames licking toward Ace.
No.
Crawling back into the front seat over shards of glass, my survival instincts kick in. I reach for Ace’s seat belt, but it takes several tries to unbuckle it. Once I ease it off him, I press my hand to the passenger door to open it, only to snatch it back with a hiss. It’s scalding hot, searing my palm. Gritting my teeth, I shove against the metal again, and the door opens. Ignoring the burns, I grab Ace under the arms and pull his heavy, lifeless body out of his seat with strength I didn’t know I possessed. Once we’re out, I drag him farther away from the car, hopefully far enough to be safe from the flames.
I turn around to see the fire creeping along the hood, and panic tries to drown me, but I shove it back as I rush to the car. Heat radiates from the Mustang as I get back inside. The air is thick with smoke, making my eyes water and my lungs ache.
“Rosie,” I rasp as I reach for her. The sight of her sends a fresh wave of panic coursing through me.
The heat becomes unbearable as the flames intensify when I reach over and unbuckle her seat belt with trembling hands and beg, “Please, Rosie.”
She’s as limp as Ace was as I drag her through the narrow space. My shoulder presses against the burning doorframe, and my skin screams as it brushes against the blistering hot metal, but adrenaline surges through me, keeping me moving.
Mere seconds after we make it to where I left Ace, the flames roar louder, consuming the car.
I can barely breathe.
As I lay my sister down beside Ace, I start begging again. “Please, Rosie. Please.”
My vision is swimming, and I barely register the sound of the approaching sirens.
Not fast enough.
None of it is fast enough.
My people are gone.
I look at Ace and Rosie lying side by side.
I want to go with them.
My body gives out, and I collapse between them. With the last of my strength, I reach for Ace’s hand, my fingers trembling as they close around his. I stare into the sky as the world fades slowly into shadows, but at the last second, I reach for Rosalee and link my pinky finger with hers.
Focusing on our fragile connection, I turn my head toward her and make my final promise in a broken whisper. “From the cradle…”
Shouts, car doors slamming, and pounding footsteps.
Too late.
“… to the grave.”
Darkness swallows me whole.