Page 100 of Hell Bent
I said, “It’s beautiful. I love that it’s not so … so shiny.” Tears pricked behind my eyelids, which was stupid. Not for the gift itself, or not exactly. That Sebastian, who’d taken in Lexi and Ben, who was losing his sister, who was under so much pressure in only his second season, had thought about me enough, hadunderstoodme enough, to buy me something so right. I didn’t know how to say all that, so I put my arms around him instead, and when he hugged me and said, “Happy birthday,” in my ear, quietly enough to tell me how much this had mattered to him … well, I teared up for real.
“Good work, man,” Blake said. “That’s a right nice piece. And that’s Chanel beige gold. Eighteen carat, but they tone down the shine. Discreet.”
Jennifer said, “It’s beautiful, and it suits you perfectly. And I’m sorry, but—could you open the other one? I’m dying to know.”
Oh. I’d forgotten the other one. I said, “Why do I havetwopresents, though?”
Owen said, “Because he was worried you wouldn’t like one of them. Thought, ‘If I get her two, I’ve at least got a fifty percent shot.’ It’s all about the stats.”
Everybody laughed, and Sebastian said, “That’s about it. I also thought they kind of went together. Call it a parure, ifyou want. And, yeah, I’m pretty nervous, so if you’d go on and open it …”
I did. This time, the box was wood and saidDries Creel,which I’d never heard of, and when I lifted the lid …
A pendant on a fine gold chain. A curved slab of gold maybe an inch and a half across, like the outer edge of a section of circle, it was almost quilted, like the ear cuff, even though it was from a whole different company, with lines scored throughout so the whole thing was divided into many diverse triangles, etching the golden surface and making it look not so much shiny as … gleaming. Textured. Warm, like the whiskey bottles on the shelves in here. Each triangle was studded with one or two tiny diamonds, too, that winked against the soft gold like stars. None of it was exactly symmetrical. All of it was perfect, and nearly, oddly, mystical.
“It’s called the Lotus pendant,” Sebastian said. “Looks kind of Egyptian, I thought. Kind of old.” He cleared his throat. “Like something an Egyptian princess would wear. The lotus rises from the mud without stains every morning. Symbol of strength and resilience, and I’d say that’s you. You don’t wear much jewelry, but I thought you might like this.”
I didn’t answer. I lifted my hair from the back of my neck, turned in my chair, and said, “Please. Fasten it.” And when he did, I put my hand over it where it lay against my skin, above the wine-colored sweater I’d worn for him, and said, “It’s perfect. It’sright.It feels like you see me. But it’s—Sebastian. It’s too much.” How much did one gold cuff earring from Chanel cost? I’d bet it was a whole lot more than a cuff earring from almost anywhere else, and the pendant didn’t strike me as exactly cheap, either.
Though my mother would be thrilled. Which reminded me that I hadn’t called her today, and what was odder, she hadn’t called me. Was she actually that furious? And whatwas I going to do about that? I couldn’t go back to school just to make her happy. I’d tried that. It hadn’t worked.
Sebastian sighed. “How am I going to learn to be a legit NFL player with all these mixed messages? My nephew Ben,” he told the others, “disapproves of my car, my condo, and my general lack of bling. My wardrobe, too, for that matter. He told me today, ‘Just because you’re Canadian, that doesn’t mean you have to wear plaid flannel shirts. How come you don’t have any clothes that have, like, style?’ Whereas Alix gets itchy when I get takeout. What’s a guy to do?”
“I do not get—” I was saying, but I was also laughing. And touching my gorgeous pendant. Delicate, but somehow bold, too, like the earring. Unique. Perfect.A symbol of strength and resilience, and that’s you.I gave it up, wrapped my hand around the back of Sebastian’s neck, kissed his mouth, smiled into his eyes, and forgot about my mother and everybody else. “Thank you,” I told him. “I don’t need these things, but I sure do love them. You’ve messed up all my resolutions, and I’m more confused than ever about my future, but I’m glad I met you anyway. I guess you don’t always get to plan life.”
39
ALL THE THINGS
Sebastian
I walked out of that place holding her hand, saw some male heads turn to check her out in her off-the-shoulder sweater, slim leather skirt, and heels, at all that taut body and soft skin and vitality, tightened my hold on her, and thought,Yep, she’s just that good. But she’s mine.Kept her indoors out of the cold in the bar below while we waited for the valet to bring my car around, looked at those mellow flashes of gold at her ear and throat, and inhaled the scent of her. Something rich, spicy, and heady that I couldn’t identify, so I asked her.
“Back to Black, by Killian,” she said with a little laugh, her fingers going up to touch the pendant. “And I’ve never had a birthday like this. I’ve never?—”
My car pulled to the curb outside, and I held the bar door for her and said, “Hold that thought.”
She didn’t, but then, Alix generally didn’t do what I said. Except when she did. Exactly how delicious was that moment of surrender? I was going to be finding out again in about half an hour, but right now, she was fastening her seatbelt and saying, “If we’re talking about how people look and smell …”
I said, “How peoplesmell?”I was laughing, and so was she.
“All right,” she said, “the scent of people. Is that better? No, it’s just that—I love your leather jacket. I always have. I love that it’s so simple and scarred. It looks real, and it smells real.” Another breath. “Like you.”
“It was my dad’s.” My throat closed a little at saying it, because that was how wide-open this whole day had left me, and the day before, too. Making snow angels? Where hadthatcome from? I lived on the outskirts, keeping my eyes open and my mouth shut. I was safer that way. And all the same, I said, “His RCAF flight jacket.”
She laid a light hand on the leather sleeve. A hand with short, unpainted nails. A capable hand, slim and strong. “And wearing it makes you feel close to him.”
“Yeah. I guess. He was a pilot. Royal Canadian Air Force, and then he flew for an air ambulance service.”
“Where you get your coordination. And your discipline.”
“Probably.”
“Then why—” she said, and stopped.
“Why what?” I didn’t want to talk about my dad. Or my sister, for that matter. I wanted to talk about how sexy she looked tonight, and what I planned to do to her in a half hour or so, and the conversational transition from “dead dad” to “do you right” was going to be one hell of a leap.
“Why did it sound like you were so desperate after he died?” she asked. “If he had a job like that?”
