I’ve been thinking about him more recently of late. It still hurts, but it’s faded somewhat. A dull throb rather than a sharp stab of pain.Washe telling the truth? Had my anger blocked my ability to see things clearly despite the deception?
I want to believe he loves me. I couldn’t let him say it. I didn’t believe him. Hearing those words would have been too painful. Now, I miss him so much it makes me ache.
It’s as I’m mindlessly playing Zelda: Twilight Princess one evening, definitelynotthinking of Noah, that there’s a knock at my door. To my surprise, Sebastian Dumont stands on the other side, wearing a thinner coat, the air no longer holding the chill of winter.
I’m frozen. The season ended two weeks ago, and since then, I haven’t seen Sebastian. I wait for him to speak.
He stands there awkwardly, hands in his pockets, and rocks back on his heels. “Can I come in?”
Sebastian may be Noah’s brother, and he may have known about the switch, but I’m no asshole. It’s cold out.
Wordlessly, I stand aside so he can pass.
“Tidy place you’ve got,” he comments, looking around. “I can see why my brother liked you.”
“If you’re here to talk about Noah, I’m not interested.”
Sebastian sighs. “Just hear me out.”
The times I’ve seen Sebastian utterly serious are few and far between. A line mars the space between his eyebrows, almost as if he’s surprised to find himself here, in this position.
A deep breath, and he begins. “Look, I know that what we all did to you was shitty. Kellan sometimes doesn’t have a conscience and thinks everything in life is a game. I was also in on the plan so I’m not exactly innocent either. And Noah, well, I think he only did it because he wanted to piss Kellan off about driving his Lamborghini. It was never with ill intent.”
I keep quiet. There are a lot of things I want to say to Sebastian—how wrong he is, for one. How intent and impact are two completely different things. But I figure it’s best to let him finish before I say my piece.
“I know you probably hate Noah, but one thing you should know about him is he never opens up—to anyone. When he was with you, swear to God, I actually saw him crack a smile. Once, I even heard himlaugh.” His lips press harder together. “Was it a shitty thing for him to lie to you? Yeah, it was. But he was entirely himself.”
I don’t want to hear it, not because I don’t believe him, but because I’m afraid that what he says is true. And if it is? What then?
“I’m telling you this,” Sebastian says with grave eyes, “because you once gave me advice when I needed it most. I’m here to return the favor.”
He’s talking about last Thanksgiving break. I saw Sebastian practicing and struck up a conversation with him. This was during a time when the majority of our team hated him on sight.
“I think,” I say, “the circumstances are a little different.”
“So, what, you’re going to push your feelings away and continue to be miserable?” His mouth holds a wry quirk to it. He moves closer to the couch, as if considering whether or not to take a seat.
“It’s been working fine.”
He barks a laugh. “Jason told me he texted you the other day and you told him to fuck off. I think that’s a little more intense thanfine.”
So I’ve been moody of late. So what?
Except it’s been months now, and my attitude hasn’t changed. Every day I tell myself not to think about Noah, not to regret the fallout between us, and I can’t. He’s in my head. My pillow still holds the scent of his skin. I keep thinking how one night with him wasn’t enough, not even close.
“If you care about Noah,” Sebastian goes on, “then don’t you at least want to hear his side of the story?”
The question tightens my throat. I do, and I don’t. Noah tried to explain, and I wouldn’t listen to him. I’d been too shocked, too hurt, to do so. Then days passed, and a week, another, a month.
I care about Noah. But I lied to him, too, that night. I told him I loved him, in past tense. But Ilovehim. Present tense. Current. Now.
Sebastian must be able to tell what I’m feeling by my lack of response. He grips my shoulder, gives it a squeeze. “The first time I met Aidan, I was a complete tool, yet somehow he forgave me for it. Still don’t know what that guy sees in me,” he jokes, his eyes crinkling in a smile, “but I do believe that when you love someone, that means forgiving, letting go.”
“And if it’s too late?” My voice comes out hoarse.
“Max, don’t you know?” He smiles. “It’s never too late. Never.”
Chapter 27
