One minute, I’m sitting in the car, staring at the empty seat beside me; the next, I’m parked outside the hospital. When the nurse tells me Dominic Mitchell’s already gone home, a heavy weight sinks in my gut. Of course he has.
I’m too late. Again.
Which is how I end up outside the Mitchells’ place, standing like a bloody idiot with flowers meant for a man I barely know—but they’re not really for him. They’re for all of them. For their home. For her. And yeah, I had to Google what the hell you’re supposed to bring someone after they’ve been discharged, because apparently, I’m a grown man with no idea how to handle feelings. Grace Mitchell opens the door, and for a split second, I’d prayed it would be her. If it had been Olivia, I’d have folded right there on the veranda. Pathetic, really. I sound like some pubescent teenager trying to figure out what to do with his first crush.
Though, in a way, that’s exactly what this feels like.
“Sebastian?” She blinks, then smiles, with the same quiet kindness her daughter carries in her eyes. “Oh, you didn’t have to…”
I shake my head, shifting the flowers in my hand. “Just wanted to check in. See how he’s doing.”
Before I can think of what else to say, she steps forward and hugs me. It throws me off balance. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “For saving him.”
“Please. I’m no hero. I just… did what anyone else would’ve done.”
The words sound rough even to my own ears, but they’re all I have. Because the truth is, I didn’tsavehim; I just happened to be there when it went bad. That doesn’t make me anything special.
Grace pulls back slightly. “Maybe not to you,” she says, “but I bet to your little boy, you are.”
The corner of my mouth twitches. “Maybe. I hope so.” I glance away, throat tightening. “Still, anyone would’ve done the same.”
Her brows lift, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. “Not just anyone,” she says, turning toward the hallway. “Come in. He’ll want to see you.”
I hover at the doorway. “I don’t want to intrude, Mrs—”
“Grace.” She waves a hand. “Please. Don’t be silly.”
Her tone has that motherly steadiness that squeezes something in my chest. Much like my own mother’s, and so, I follow her inside. The Mitchell house smells like lemon polish and fresh laundry. She leads me to the lounge, where Dominic’s in an armchair, the colour creeping back into his face. He pushes himself up, moving slower than he probably wants to.
“If it isn’t the bloke who helped me out at the store.”
I rub the back of my neck. “Just did what needed doing, that’s all.”
“Probably would’ve karked it if you hadn’t shown up. I owe ya one hell of a thank you for it.”
“No need to mention it, sir,” I say quietly.
“I will anyway. You’ve no idea what that meant, for me, for Grace, and for our Liv.” Dominic’s tone shifts, then his eyes narrow. “Speaking of, you got any idea why my daughter’s been off lately? Grace says she’s been quiet. That’s not like ‘er.”
My stomach dips. “I’m not sure,” I manage, voice low. Half a lie. Half the truth. The hurt sitting between us is mine to own. I can still see the look on her face when she walked away, how she swallowed down the sting and pretended not to care. Christ, that look’s branded into me.
“She not working for ya anymore?”
“Uh, no. I’m off on annual leave now. Home with my boy for a bit.” The excuse sounds pathetic, even to me. I rub a hand over the back of my neck. “She’s got plenty on her plate anyway.”
He studies me for a long moment, quiet, assessing. The man’s sharp, with the same kind of intuition Liv has. Knows more than he lets on. Must run in the blood. That mix of stubbornness and instinct. Finally, he leans back in his chair. “She’s out back,” he says, eyes glinting with something that borders on amusement. “By the barn. Taking Blue out for a ride.”
I nod, grateful for the out, though my stomach knots at the thought. Of course she’d be there. Horses. Freedom. The one place she can’t be cornered by anyone but herself.
“Thank you,” I say, shaking his hand one last time.
As I turn for the back door, I catch Grace’s faint smile and step out into the sun. The gravel crunches with each step, louder than it should be. My pulse hammers through the quiet, matching the rhythm in my head. Back to square one. Only this time, I’m not sure I’ll walk away so easily.
The barn smells of hay and memory. Dust floats through shafts of sunlight, catching on the air as she swings a saddle onto Blue’s back. Then she sees me. Her hands still, mid-motion. Her mouth parts, surprise flashing across her face.
“Sebastian.” That voice. All the air leaves my lungs. I try for a smile, but it doesn’t last. Not when the warmth in her eyes hardens into steel. “What are you doing here?”
I swallow, shifting my weight. “I, uh, came to check on your dad. Wanted to see how he’s doing.”
