Page 104 of Bite Marks & Broken Hearts

“No!” The word burst out before I could stop it.

“Flynn?” Katie’s voice crackled through the speaker. “What’s wrong?”

“We need to talk, ASAP. There are things I need to say, and I might not have that much time left to say them.”

Closing the door behind him, Seb gave me a look that said,“Are you sure that’s a sensible thing to say to a family member over the phone?”

And he was right.

Katie exploded.

“What?! Are you in serious trouble or something? Do you need money?”

Oops.

“No, no. Nothing like that. Sorry, forget what I just said. Everything’s fine, I promise. I’ll talk to you soon. Enjoy the rest of your birthday.” After all, there was no point ruining her party.

Katie made a noise of pure exasperation down the phone. “Just… be careful, okay?”

“I love you.” The words came out choked.

“I love you too, you absolute idiot.”

The line went dead. The room fell into silence, broken only by the very distant hum of London traffic outside.

Seb crossed the room in that graceful way of his, each movement deliberate and controlled. His mouth opened, probably to ask if I was alright, but before he could get a word out, I launched myself at him. My arms wrapped around his middle, face pressed into the soft material of his shirt and silky tie. His fancy cologne—all dark spices and sexiness—washed over me.

“This is what happens when you lock me up all day.” My voice came out muffled against his chest.

“You can’t trick me into feeling guilty about keeping you safe.” His tone was stern, but his hands came up to rest against my back. “What happened with your phone call? Your sister? Is everything okay?”

“No,” I said honestly. “Not even remotely. She’s dead worried. I told her I need to talk to her in person, but I obviously can’t go back to Ireland right now, and she doesn’t understand why.”

Seb pulled back, gripping my shoulders. “Talk to her in person because… you miss her so much?”

“Well, yes, there’s the whole needing to say goodbye before I die thing”—he grimaced—“but I actually need to tell her the reason I left Braymore.” I stared at a worn spot on the rug. “I should have gone straight to her that night, rather than run away. I’ve made it all so much worse. But…”

Seb captured my face. “Will you explain to me what happened? I promise you’ll receive no judgement.”

I pulled away from his touch, needing space to get the words out. I crossed the room to retrieve the worn photo frame on my bedside table—Mum, Katie, and me at Giant’s Causeway, all windswept smiles.

“It was her husband, Connor.” The name tasted bitter on my tongue. “The night I left… I was on the beach. Crying about Tom. About everything, really.” I swallowed hard. “Connor found me there. He… He kissed me.”

Eyes widening, Seb fell very still.

“Katie and I were so close growing up. After Dad died, she basically helped raise me. But years ago, at a party, Connor… He touched me. Inappropriately. When I told Katie, she laughed it off. Said I was confused.” A hollow laugh escaped me. “So this time, I couldn’t face her not believing me again. Or worse—thinking I’d somehow encouraged him. Or even that I was so heartbroken about Tom, I threw myself at him.”

“Flynn—”

“She’s mysister.” The words came out raw. “She deserves to know why I left. But how do I tell her that her husband…” I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes. “That the reason I abandoned her, abandoned Mum, was because her husband cornered me on a beach when I was at my lowest?”

Silence fell heavily in the room as Seb’s lips pressed together in a firm line.

“Katie’s always been the strong one. After Dad died, she held us all together. Made everything beautiful again, like she does with her flowers. But this? This would destroy her. And I can’t—” I faltered. “I can’t be the one who does that to her.”

Seb’s eyes blazed with a new intensity. “Listen to me very carefully,” he said, low, dangerous. “That man is a predator. What he did was not your fault. And your sister deserves to know exactly what kind of monster she married.”

I blinked rapidly, trying to process the vehemence in his tone.

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