Page 48 of Late Nights & Love Lines
“Sebastian, don’t.” Her voice is whisper-soft. The words barely touch the air. “Please don’t.”
The pain that etches each word solidifies a decision that’s out of my control. It’s the only option—I want to erase all the heartache that makes this woman run from every good thing life has to offer. I want to show her that even when things break, it doesn’t mean they’re broken forever. And I need to show her that not all families hurt—that not all families turn their backs when you’re suffering—to show her what it means to be loved, truly loved.
“There’s a very good chance I’m going to get hurt here, Peach. But I’m okay with it if it means a little bit of happiness.”
She shakes her head free, but her chin trembles.
“I’m sorry that life has shown you the worst sides of humanity. I’m sorry that you’ve never had someone to trust. AndI’m really fucking sorry I didn’t kick your stepfather’s ass when I had the chance.”
At least that makes her choke on a giggle.
“What do you want, Seb? Don’t you see it’s not your place to apologize? Nothing in my life has anything to do with you.” It’s a plea that calls to the injured pieces of my soul.
She’s wringing her hand around those beads at her wrist, and I reach out, pulling it to me, holding it hostage while my thumb runs light circles over her tiny tattoo. Her pulse thrums rapidly beneath my finger.
This simple touch rocks the foundation of my world.
“My life has always had something to do with yours,” I say gently. “I knew it the first time I met you, but I felt it that day you sang that fucking lullaby that’s haunted me for years. That’s when I recognized what the ache in my chest was. I was just too young and stupid to do anything about it. I didn’t know what it meant before, but I do now. So I want you to keep an open mind and come to the dance with me tonight.”
“I can’t.”
Leaning away from her, I hook her chin with my pointer finger and lift her face to mine. “You can’t or you won’t?”
“Does it matter?” she whispers.
“More than I can explain. Tell me why.”
Her eyes close and she steps back, tugging her wrist free in the process, and I swear the earth moves with her.
“Because.” She dips her chin and kicks at a rock on the ground. “I don’t know how to be part of a group, okay? Getting through camp with fourteen fathers, twenty-four kids, and thirty-six other nannies is going to be hard enough, but I’ll be working. My role will be clearly defined, and I understand what I’m supposed to do and what I’m supposed to say. The sand dance is a free-for-all, and I just can’t. It’s too much, okay?”
I nod, unsure how to respond to that. She’s isolated herself more than I realized.
“Then promise me two things,” I plead.
Her weight shifts from foot to foot. “I can’t promise anything.”
I chuckle, and it’s a sad sound—the lone trombone that’s out of key in an orchestra of perfect harmony. “Then try to do two things. One, answer your door when I knock tonight, and two, remember it’s only one father you have to worry about next week. The rest of it’s on Lottie, and I have no doubt she can handle it. Your job, for the next few weeks, is me.”
“You mean your kids,” she clarifies.
“Sure.” I smirk. “My kids.” Stuffing my hands in my pockets so I don’t reach for her again, it still takes all my willpower to turn my back and walk away. “Oh, and Peach?” I ask over my shoulder, turning enough to catch her expression. “How’s your ass?”
Frustration bursts free, and she stomps her foot while shaking out her hands. “It’s just fine, no thanks to you.”
Well, fuck me. She turned those tables quickly.
“I’ll have to see what I can do about that next time.” I walk away with a newfound purpose, one that leaves me feeling lighter and happier than ever before.
12
LATE-NIGHT WISHES AND ALMOST KISSES
ROWAN
“How’s your ass?” I mutter, adding the final filter to my Instagram post of a flower I found on the trail before burr-gate happened. Jackass. Of course he would bring it up.
Seren pokes her head inside my partially open door. “Ah, are you talking to someone?”
