Oscar’s eyes flick toward me, softening for only a second. “There are better ways, kid. You don’t get to put your life, or someone else’s, on the line because you don’t want to deal with your shit.”
I huff, looking away again. “Whatever.”
We fall into silence for a while, the road stretching endlessly ahead.
“Levi’s training hard,” Oscar says suddenly. “You should see him with those pigeons. He’s going to be so good.”
“Yeah, well, good for him,” I mutter.
“You should join him.”
I snort. “I’m not doing silly tricks, Oscar.”
It’s fine if Levi wants to play magician, but I’m not into that shit.
He chuckles, reaching into his pocket with one hand while steering with the other. “Silly tricks, huh?” He pulls out a coin, holding it up between us. “Two sides to a coin, Koen.” He flips it between his fingers like it’s weightless. “You and Levi, you’relike that. Heads and tails. Opposites, but part of the same thing.”
I watch as he tosses the coin into the air. It spins, catching the light, and then—nothing. It’s gone.
“Sometimes it spins.” His voice takes on that theatrical tone he uses on stage. “Sometimes it falls.”
I glance around, half expecting to find it on the dashboard or in the cup holder, but there’s no trace of it.
“Cute.”
“Who said magic has to be cute? You’re not Levi. You don’t need the pigeons and illusions. You’ve got a mind for strategy… for reading people. You could be a mentalist, Koen. Get into their heads. No silly tricks, just skill. Real skill.”
“Sounds like a lot of work.”
“Maybe,” he agrees, leaning back into his seat. “But it’s better than getting yourself behind bars for racing. Think about it. You, Levi,the Magic Twins. That will get you rich as hell. You keep your license this time, and you can buy every car you’ve ever dreamed of.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Big dreams, Uncle Oscar.”
“Dream big, Koen.”He glances at me. “But be safe. And keep Levi safe. You’re not just two sides of a coin. You’re stronger together. Don’t throw that away over some need for speed.”
I look at him, the words settling in my chest. Oscar’s not talking about cars and magic—he’s talking about the weight of everything we’ve lost and everything we still have.
“Yeah,” I murmur, turning back to the road. “I’ll think about it.”
He smiles, shifting gears as the Mercedes roars forward. “Good. Now stop sulking and help me figure out how to break it to Levi that twenty pigeons in his room are nineteen too many without him staging a full-blown meltdown.”
I laugh despite myself. “Good luck with that. You know he’s going to call it artistic expression or some crap.”
Oscar grins. “Yeah, well, he can express himself all he wants in the garage. I’m not negotiating with pigeons.”
The memory fades,but the weight of it lingers, pressing down on my chest.
Sitting in the Bronco, I stare out at the parked Mercedes in front of us.
The same car Oscar and I drove home that day, his words about coins, Levi, and me still ringing in my ears.
I glance at Novalee in the passenger seat beside me. She’s quiet, her hand resting lightly on her bracelet, her gaze fixed on the park we’ve parked next to, and I let myself look at her.
Mine.
Then I follow her gaze.
Nicholas is in the distance, guiding a group of kids through a parkour course like he’s been doing this his entire life. Which, in a way, he has.
