“Pull on your seat belt,” he commands, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.
“Sure,” I fumble with the belt, my hands trembling as I try to latch it. The buckle slips from my grasp, and I take a deep breath, forcing myself to focus. I don’t want to look at them, don’t want them to see how much I’m struggling, but I know they already do. I can practically feel how Koen’s gaze in the mirror doesn’t leave me, watching as I fight the panic crawling under my skin.
Finally, I manage to snap the seat belt into place, but the pressure around my chest doesn’t ease. The engine roars to life, and I close my eyes, gripping the edge of the seat, feeling the vibration of the car beneath me. My breaths come in short, ragged bursts, and every nerve feels raw, exposed.
Levi starts talking, but I can’t make out the words. It’s all a blur, the sound of the engine, the motion of the car, it’s too much.
The next moment, the engine sound that’s so loud in my ears gets replaced by music.
Country?
Just as quickly as it was turned on, the volume lowers, and then a warm hand lands on my bare ankle. The touch grounds me in a way I didn’t expect. My eyes snap open, and I see it’s Koen who has reached back, his fingers squeezing my ankle before stroking the skin softly. His calmness seems to seepthrough, and even though I want to protest that he’s touching me, I can’t.
“You’re safe,” he assures me. “I’m a good driver.”
I swallow hard, my throat dry, but the panic loosens a little. “You should keep both hands on the wheel,” I manage to whisper, though the soothing circles his thumb traces on my ankle are helping to redirect the panic.
Koen gives me a crooked smile, his eyes flicking back to the road. “If I’m driving with one hand, you’re fine.” The corners of his mouth lift into a small smile. “You can start to worry if I need to use both.”
I let out a shaky breath, focusing on the warmth of his touch, pulling me away from the whirlwind of fear.
Levi chuckles from the passenger seat, the sound breaking through the tension. “Ko hasn’t had a single accident or even put a dent in a car,” he shares. “Unlike me. He’s a damn good driver. Been into cars ever since we were kids. He used to race them and got his license taken away more times than I can count. I had to lend him mine half the time.”
Koen laughs, and it sounds less restrained than usual. “Perks of being a twin.”
“Yeah, pity you can’t do that anymore. You’d have to get some piercings and dye your hair blond.” I can hear the grin in Levi’s voice. “And don’t forget the overall sparkle and shine you’re lacking.”
“The word you’re looking for isextra, Dove. I could never be as extra as you,” Koen teases, and the love he feels for his twin is obvious.
“You’re just jealous.” Levi fake pouts, then smiles. “You have other qualities, though.”
This is so natural to witness them like this. Not like in the interviews and on the billboards. Just two brothers bickering, loving each other, even if they’re like day and night.
The same as Rosalee and me.
My breathing slows, though my fingers are still gripping the seat as if I’m holding on for dear life, but the weight of their presence, the easy way they talk, is enough to keep the panic from swallowing me whole.
For now.
Talking helps. I need to keep them talking.
“You said the dress is for tomorrow night?” I ask quietly.
“Yes,” Koen replies, squeezing my ankle once more.
“I work Saturdays,” I murmur. My schedule comes out almost like an excuse. “They’re the busiest.”
“Is that so?” Levi turns to look at me. “What do you usually make on a Saturday night?”
I frown, not sure where this is going. “Why?”
Levi and Koen exchange a look, then answer in perfect unison, “We’ll double it.”
I blink. “You’re serious?”
Koen nods. “You’re with us tomorrow.”
His tone makes it seem as if it’s a fact, not a request, and part of me isn’t sure how I feel about that.
