Page 60 of Gathered Sparkle

Novalee

“Look, Glitter, if you’re not showing up, you need to let us know sooner. We’re already short this week.”

The phone feels heavy in my hand, weighing me down as I respond to the manager on the other end. “I’m letting you know now, aren’t I?” My gaze flicks to Koen, who arches his brow skeptically from where he sits at the kitchen table, sipping his coffee.

Shifting uncomfortably in my chair, I turn away from his penetrating gaze and explain hurriedly, “I’m sorry, but I got hurt. I need a week at most. But I’ll be back.”

My manager doesn’t respond right away, and when I chance a glance at Koen, his lips twitch, and I know exactly what he’s thinking without him having to say a damn thing. He thinks I need a longer break.

I narrow my eyes at him because what Ineedis not to lose my job.

Or to be dependent on anyone but myself.

The manager finally lets out a huff. “Fine. But you better call before next week if you can’t make it. We’re not holding spots.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I mutter in agreement, fixing my gaze on the empty plate in front of me. Koen made an early dinner of mac and cheese that was so good I’m tempted to lick the plate clean as soon as I’m off this phone call. All that’s left from our meal now is a lone breadstick, golden and perfect, and it’s calling to me.

Koen stands with his empty coffee cup in hand and reaches for my plate with a pointed look, but I’m faster. I snatch the breadstick off it, holding it protectively like a prize, and glare at him.

Mine.

“Thank you, you’ll hear from me soon,” I say into the phone, cutting her off mid-rant about my no-shows and hanging up before she can respond. I slam my phone down and bite into the breadstick at the same time, letting out a satisfied hum when the buttery, garlicky goodness melts in my mouth.

Koen puts my plate into the dishwasher, closes it, and then leans against it, smiling lazily at me. “You looked done.”

“Not with this.” I take another pointed bite.

Levi chuckles softly from where he’s also sitting at the table, scrolling through his phone while Pebble appears to doze on his shoulder. Ezra’s beside him, absently spinning a pen between his fingers.

“Is there a reason you didn’t tell them you’d need more than a week?” Koen casually asks as he pushes off the counter and walks back to the table.

I bristle at his tone. “Because I don’t know what next week looks like. And because I’m not planning on being here forever.”

Koen’s smile fades, and he stops in his tracks. “Novalee—”

Fuck, it’s so strange hearing my name out of his mouth. Hearing it from all of them, really.

“Don’t,” I warn, pointing the breadstick at him like a sword. “I’m not discussing this.” His jaw works for a moment like he’sfighting the urge to argue, but he sits back down in his chair instead, watching me with that assessing look that makes my skin crawl. “I’m not going to lose my job because of this,” I add defensively.

I’m still not one hundred percent sure where I’ll end up when all of this is over.

Koen’s gaze softens as if he can truly hear my thoughts, but before he can argue, Ezra pipes up from the counter, “How about we table that discussion until we survive the dinner tomorrow.”

I groan as I drag my free hand over my face. “Don’t remind me. I’m trying not to think about it.”

“Good luck with that,” Levi mutters. “I tried to block it out, but IknowVeronica’s got something up her sleeve. She always does.”

The room falls quiet, and I shove the rest of the breadstick into my mouth, chewing slowly.

When I woke up in Sylus’s bed—alone—it was already early evening. I’d slept the night and half the next day away, and after a quick audit of my body, it seemed all Sylus did was sleep next to me. Eventually, I managed to get up and take a shower, and the moment I came down, Koen wordlessly put a plate of the best damn food in front of me as if he knew exactly when I’d arrive. And how hungry I’d be.

And what I needed.

Sylus strolls into the kitchen, his footsteps light as he stops behind me, pressing a kiss to my temple. His lips linger for a second longer than they need to, a reminder of what I could have. “Good morning, Sparkle baby.”

“It’s evening.”

“Not for you, sleepyhead,” he counters, his fingers brushing lightly through my hair. The motion is so gentle it makes my shoulders relax automatically. “I’ll head out to grab your stuff. Anything in particular you need?”

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