Coco Lovelock Jax (WORKING • 2024)

“Coco. Coco, no.”

Inside, there was nothing but a bare wooden wall and a single, dusty coat hanger.

Jax slammed the hood. He was a man built of right angles and practicality — sharp jaw, sharper tongue, and a heart he pretended ran on diesel logic. But Coco had been his best friend since they were eleven, and he knew that look. The twinkle . The one that meant trouble with a capital ‘T’ and that rhymes with ‘C,’ which stands for ‘Coco.’

Coco Lovelock believed in omens. Jax believed in oil changes.

Coco looked up at Jax. “Told you,” she said softly. “Magic.”