Owen placed his cup back on the table and knelt at Sebastian’s feet. “I’m sorry.”
Sebastian reached out, laying his palm on Owen’s cheek. He leaned into the touch and closed his eyes for a moment before meeting Sebastian’s gaze again. “I know you are, Owen. I’m sorry too. Sorry you feel you can’t talk to me.”
Owen fought back the urge to look away. As much as he hated talking about his health, and admitting he wasn’t one hundred percent, Sebastian deserved the truth. He took a deep breath before speaking, Sebastian’s touch encouraging the honesty. “You’re right,” he finally said. “I did have a bad night. Every time I rolled over, the pain in my shoulder woke me. Then I couldn’t get comfortable so falling back to sleep was hard, so I tossed and turned for a while. I guess the lack of sleep makes me a bit grumpy in the mornings.”
“Thank you.” Sebastian’s smile was gentle, his eyes warm, as he stroked his thumb along Owen’s jaw. “I know it’s hard for you to open up—“
“I don’t like complaining.”
“It’s not complaining when I ask how you’re doing. Iwantto know. I want to help. Are you sure you shouldn’t be taking the medication again, if only to help you sleep?”
Owen rose and sat back in his seat. “I hate taking those pills.”
“But surely a good night’s sleep will help. The doctor warned that the chronic pain and sleep disturbance could affect you mentally, and I don’t like to see you suffering.”
Owen tried to look positive, not letting the depression show—because that’s what it was. He knew the combination of pain and lack of sleep was impacting the way he was feeling. He just didn’t want Sebastian to see how much. “I really am doing a lot better, babe. I promise you. I have bad days and good days, but the bad days are getting a lot less.”
“I still think maybe we should push for the surgery. Sooner rather than later.”
Owen nodded. “The doctor wanted to give it a couple of months, but I’ll talk to him right after Christmas. I promise.”
Owen felt a lot better when Sebastian smiled and relaxed. He could almost see the stress fading, the stiffness leaving his shoulders, as Sebastian settled back into his seat.
“All right, I’ll stop hassling you,” Sebastian said, his mouth turning up at the sides, and his eyes crinkling. “For now.”
Owen breathed a sigh of relief, even though he knew they’d have this discussion again in the future. He broke off a piece of croissant and loaded the buttery pastry with a huge spoonful of sticky jam. The sweet goodness on his tongue, the sunshine through the window, and the smile on Sebastian’s face was enough for now.
Chapter Six
The scent of pinefilled the air, competing with the aroma from the coffee cup resting on the table at Owen’s elbow, but the coffee went largely ignored as Owen focused on Sebastian’s antics.It’s like watching a child.He pushed aside the instant reminder of their age difference that thought brought. Instead, he focused on the sheer joy on Sebastian’s face and allowed himself to enjoy the happiness.
“Please, please, please can I open one?” Sebastian was sitting cross-legged on the wool rug in front of the Christmas tree that was tucked in the corner of the living room, with a red and silver package in his hands. He was shaking the shoe-box sized gift, holding it to his ear and listening closely as he jiggled it. He waggled his eyebrows and winked.
Owen chuckled, knowing Sebastian would never guess what was inside. He’d found the last few days amusing, watching as Sebastian explored his gifts. Sebastian couldn’t walk past the decorated tree without picking up a present, feeling the weight, sniffing the package, and shaking it to listen for sounds, determined to figure out the contents.
“Next year, I won’t put them under the tree until Christmas morning; that way you won’t be so tempted.” Owen made the same threat every year but had never followed through—part of the fun of the lead-up to Christmas was seeing Sebastian’s excitement, and his trying to guess his gifts had almost become a tradition.
Sebastian tilted his head and deliberately raised his brows, his eyes sparking with mischief. “As if that would work. You are looking at the master,” he scoffed.
“The master of what?” Owen teased.
“The master of ferreting out hidden gifts. I’ve hadyearsto perfect the skill.”
“Oh jeez, your poor parents. I bet you even found the ‘Santa’ gifts, didn’t you?”
Sebastian’s grin was proud. He replaced the largish box and picked up another sizable box, this time a flat package wrapped in pale green paper with silver ribbons coiling over the top and cascading down the sides. “I know what this one is.”
Owen quirked a brow. “You do, do you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What is it then?” Owen took the last sip of his coffee and put the empty mug aside, leaning his elbows on his knees and returning Sebastian’s grin.
“A jumper. You know, one of those red and green knitted woollen jumpers with a reindeer on the front.”
“Uh, mmm… So what’s in that one then.” Owen pointed to a bright red cylinder that was propped up against the base of the tree.
“Oh, that one’s easy. It’s a treasure map.”
