Sebastian:He okay?
Me:Yep. He’s curled up on the couch now.
Sebastian:Okay. And you?
Me: What about me?
Sebastian:How are you doing?
Wow. He’s actually making small talk.
Me:I’m okay. Just glad he’s settled now. Wbu? Surviving paperwork hell?
Sebastian:?? Barely. Should probably get back to it.
The dots disappear. I’m about to put my phone down when it rings. My heart jumps.Why is he calling?I hesitate. Then swipe to answer. “Well, well,” I say, leaning against the counter. “Keep this up, and I might start thinking you enjoy talking to me.”
There’s a beat of silence, then the low sound of his laugh. “Something like that,” he says. “Felt weird texting. Figured I’d call instead.”
The sound of his voice does something to my spine. It’s not fair how his words can leave me standing here like I’ve forgotten how to breathe. I hear the faint creak of his chair. Fabric shifting, the weight of his exhaustion settling between syllables.
“You know,” he says after a pause, “talking to you’s a nice break from the chaos.”
My pulse stutters. Nope. Nope. He can’t say stuff like that. Not withthatvoice. Not when I’m already halfway to melting into a puddle on the kitchen tiles. I chew the inside of my cheek,fighting the smile threatening to creep across my face. This man. This grumpy, too-serious, disciplined man is going to ruin me.
“You should get back to it,” I say, aiming for breezy. “That mountain of forms won’t meditate itself.”
He chuckles again, low and rough and far too real in my ear. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”
“Not a chance.” I grin, leaning against the counter. There’s a muffled voice in the background, someone calling his name.
He sighs. “Duty calls. I’ll try to be home as soon as I can.”
Home.I know he’s literally referring tohishome, but the word sinks into my chest like a stone. I don’t let myself dwell on it.
“See you soon, Grumpy.”
There’s a pause. One of those quiet ones that stretches just a second longer than it should. Then his voice drops, soft and warm. “Not grumpy anymore, Trouble.”
The call ends. And just like that, I’m left staring at my reflection in the window, flushed cheeks and all, wondering when the hell a single voice became the thing that could unravel me so easily.
The sound of tyres on gravel pulls me from my thoughts. A car door slams. Then another.
I barely have time to move before Sebastian’s presence fills the house. A moment later, he’s in the doorway, eyes scanning the room. The second they land on Teddy, on the lounge with his tiny fleet of toy cars lined up, something in him unravels. Hisshoulders drop. His jaw loosens. Relief bleeds through him. He’s across the room in three long strides, dropping to his knees in front of his son. “Hey, mate. You okay?”
Teddy stiffens for a moment before pressing his face into his father’s chest. His arms wrap around Sebastian’s neck and hold on like he’s anchoring himself. Sebastian clutches him close, brushing his fingers through his hair, whispering words too quiet for me to hear. When he finally looks up, his gaze finds mine.
“I didn’t say this before, but… thank you.”
“For what?”
“For dropping everything to get him.”
My throat feels tight. “Just doing my job.”
The words come out too easily, too light for the weight they carry. It sounds like an excuse, not the truth. I clear my throat. “I wanted to. He’s… important to me too,” I add, quieter this time.
Something in his expression shutters. He swallows, nods once, and the tension in the room finally starts to ease. Dinner happens quickly. Sebastian reheats leftover pasta, Teddy insisting on sprinkling the parmesan. I contribute nothing but a random fact about wombats having cube-shaped poo. Teddy snorts, covering his mouth with both hands.
