Page 6 of Tempting Sebastian

Sebastian kneeled in front of me. It was surprisingly disarming to have him so close to me. He smelled like great, like leather and fresh, unlit tobacco leaves. “It’s ok. Tell me what’s wrong.”

I felt the tears starting to fall again. “Uh…” I sniffled and wiped my eyes. “It’s just… everything I had is gone. All of the money I’ve saved for myself, so I could get my own place, it’s all gone. Those guys took it all. I have nothing now. Nothing matters. It’s all gone.”

Sebastian stood up. “It’s okay. Let’s get you back in bed. Everything is going to be fine. I promise.”

I nodded, in a trance. I was still lost for words because I felt like a complete jackass. Sebastian gently helped me up. It was such an odd sensation. I had so many questions but again, I could not form words to save my life. I suddenly felt myself getting lightheaded. I stopped just short of the bed and leaned over, placing my hand on it.

Sebastian approached me, “I’m going to brace you. Are you ok?” He wrapped one arm around me to grab my left shoulder while his right hand held me up by my right shoulder.

It took me a second but finally I was able to say, “dizzy.”

Sebastian motioned for a spot on the bed, “May I?”

Nodding, “Yes, please. Sit. I just… I remember fighting two guys in an alley, but I don’t know what happened.”

Sebastian sat on the bed, slightly turned toward me, giving me a look of concern, or maybe it was sadness. I didn’t know. Ihadn’t known Sebastian well enough to understand what certain looks from him meant. The most interaction I had with him was that day in the kitchen making coffee.

“Yeah, you were being jumped in the alley next to the men’s shelter.” I felt my eyes go wide. Did he know? “How long have you been staying there, Jackson?”

“Um…I… it’s a long story, Sebastian, and I’d rather not get into it right now.” I was uncomfortable and tried to move and it hurt like hell, making me wince again.

Sebastian stood up and put his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to step on your privacy. You don’t have to tell me anything, but I do want to make sure you’re okay moving forward. We can talk more when you’re feeling better.” He started to walk toward the door and stopped just shy of leaving to turn and look at me. “You’re in my home, Jackson. You’re welcome to stay as long as you need. Remember, the bathroom is down the hall. You’re safe here and welcome to the kitchen or anything else. You’re still getting paid from work, but they are aware you will be out for a bit. Don’t worry about anything.”

Safe,I thought.Before I could think through everything, he was out the door. I didn’t even get to say thank you. I stared at the door, dumbfounded. I was in Sebastian Moore’s home, sleeping in his…well, one of his beds. I was still getting paid from work. Nothing felt real. The one thing thatwasreal was that all of my money was gone, and I didn’t know how to reconcile that.

Slouching down into the bed, I just kept telling myself I was safe and that in and of itself was hard to accept. I needed to heal. Before I knew it, I was asleep again.

Chapter 7

Sebastian

Jackson had been staying with me for a couple of weeks already and he was healing up nicely. I was sitting in my study listening to Claude Debussy when a knock came at the door. Standing, I turned down the record player behind me and walked over to the door, opening it to find Jackson standing in front of me.

“Mr. um…I mean…Sebastian.” He stuttered. He still wasn’t used to it and would start to call me Mr. Moore from time to time, but a flustered Jackson was very cute. Jackson’s calming presence in my home was somewhat unexpected but as he got better and moved about the house more, it was great having someone else there to keep me company.

“What can I do for you, Jackson?” I asked, with my hands in my pockets. Rocking back on my heels, I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Din…dinner is ready. But you don’t have to eat if you don’t want to. I made spaghetti. I don’t even know if you likespaghetti, but you had all the ingredients, and it sounded really good so that’s what I made. But I understand if you’re busy. I’m sorry I interrupted you.”

“Jackson!” I hadn’t meant to raise my voice, but he kept rambling. He closed his mouth and looked down at the ground. I beamed a grin at him and said, “It sounds delicious! Thanks for cooking! How’re you feeling?”

His head snapped up and what I thought was a smile started to form. “I’m good. Still a little sore in my ribs, but not bad.”

Jackson looked back down at the ground, so I reached up on instinct, “Let me see your face.” When I touched his chin, a moment passed between us. A connection. I could tell that he felt it too, because he looked at me with a sense of longing. Feeling a little embarrassed, I withdrew my hand. “Your face is healing up nicely. How’s your jaw feel?”

He smiled and grabbed his stubbled jaw. “Not bad. I can eat now without it hurting.” Jackson’s brown hair shaved in a curly high-top fade. You could see it was growing in from whatever cut he had last. He was just short of my five-foot nine, and not super built or anything, but you could tell that he took care of himself and worked out. A black button-up shirt, with the buttons open down to the collar, revealed a bit of his chest. The shirt wasn’t tucked, but hung down around his waist, barely over the top of his jeans. He looked good.

As I walked away, I said, “Good.” I grabbed my sweater from the chair and said, “I’ll join you for dinner.”

“You will? Great!” He smiled. Jackson the sunflower. Always smiling so big even when he was hurt and healing.

I motioned for the door. “After you, Jackson.” As we left my office, I pulled the door closed and followed him to the kitchen. I had a formal dining room but a small table and chairs in the kitchen, too. That was the table he had set for two.

The first week Jackson stayed with me, he was focusing on healing, so he slept, ate, drank plenty of water and rested. The second week, he was up and moving about the house. It was nice to see him doing better. I hadn’t thought past him getting better, but it was something we needed to talk about. He couldn’t very well go back to the shelter, and I didn’t want him to. From the sound of it, the money that was taken was all he had. I hadn’t asked him about that since that first day when he realized it was gone.

Jackson served dinner and asked, “Do you usually drink wine or anything with your dinner, Sebastian?”

I nodded at him. “I do, but whatever you serve will be fine. I know you can’t drink right now so whatever you were going to drink is fine with me.” He smiled and brought over two glasses of water that he had already prepared. “Thank you. This looks incredible, Jackson. You didn’t have to do this, but it’s much appreciated.”

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