The lock clicks.
I lean back against the door, trying to steady my breathing. The quiet in here feels strange after everything we’ve been through tonight. The adrenaline is finally leaving my body, and I’m starting to feel the ache around my neck where Nathan tried to strangle me.
Sebastian is already at the sink, turning the water on and bracing his hands on the counter. Blood runs over his knuckles when the water hits them, swirling pink down the drain. When he splashes his face, he hisses softly as the water touches his busted lip.
“I didn’t realize that fucker got a hit in,” he says with a chuckle, but there’s a sadness in his voice that pulls at my heart. I told him everything Nathan said to me during the attack, and Sebastian said he would have some people he knows check everything out. There’s a chance Nathan was lying, but I don’t think so. It’ll take a long time to process everything, but I’m grateful tonight ended the way it did.
“You should sit,” I say, walking closer to him. His back looks massive as he leans forward to wash his face again.
I grab some paper towels anyway, running them under the faucet before stepping closer.
“Hold still,” I tell him, because I can’t stand looking at his busted knuckles like this. His eyes flick up to mine in the mirror. Something dark lives in them tonight, like he’s tired of waiting to finally claim what is so rightfully his.
I breathe in, shifting closer to him. I want him so much, even with everything that happened tonight. Actually, especially after what we’ve been through.
Sebastian turns toward me and lets me clean the blood off his hands gently with soap and warm water.
“You’re going to need ice,” I murmur. I don’t love the fact that he’s hurt, but I have to admit I like taking care of him like this. I suspect he’s not used to such a gentle touch by the way he’s shifting closer to me.
“I just need you, baby,” he murmurs as I wipe the last streak of red from his skin and toss the paper towels into the trash can.
For a moment we’re both quiet, but I can feel his eyes on my face.
Then I look up at him and say, “You said I’ve been it for you for a decade. I’d really like to know what you meant by that.”
Sebastian simply nods once and pushes away from the counter.
The movement is slow and deliberate, almost predatory.
Instinctively, I shift backward until my back presses against the door. Sebastian advances, his large frame closing the distance between us until there’s nowhere left for me to move. His big hands brace against the wall on either side of my head, caging me in completely.
I can feel the warmth of his body seeping into mine, and suddenly I’m thankful I have this little dress on because I feel all of him.
“Everyone who should have kept you safe failed,” he says quietly, and his eyes search mine. “Let me take care of you, songbird.” My breath catches because the nickname tickles something in the back of my mind. I don’t get to finish my thought because he’s speaking again. “It is, without question, the reason I exist.”
My chest tightens so suddenly I have to look away from him for a second, but he cups my jaw gently and guides me to look at him. “Why?” I ask softly.
He moves his hand to brush my hair out of my eyes before he says, “Because when I was ten-years-old I met a girl who had the most beautiful voice. I held her while her parents were being murdered, and then she was ripped away from me. I have spent my life writing her letters with nowhere to send them, recording tape after tape, hoping one day I could tell her what she meant to me.”
My heart stutters because everything he’s describing comes flooding back from recesses of my mind that I sealed off so long ago. I gasp, but no words come out.
But that’s okay, because Sebastian has more to say, and I feel like I could listen to him tell our story forever. “That girl, the one who has never left my mind for a single second, gave me something to remember her by before the police took her away.”
My hands fly to his face before I can stop them because I remember. I remember his eyes. I remember looking into hiseyes ten years ago and being so scared, but grateful that he was with me. “No freaking way,” I whisper.
His mouth curves slightly when he lowers his voice to match mine. “You remember.”
“You were the boy who hid me,” I say, and I don’t have much else because I’m still studying his face.
It’s really him.
“I was,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the pink scrunchie I was wearing that day. It has tiny white hearts on it. I wore that thing no matter what color outfit I was wearing because it was my favorite.
“I can’t believe you kept it all these years,” I say, running my fingers over the worn fabric.
He tucks it away, and then his arms wrap around my waist instantly, pulling me against him like he just needs to be closer.
“I searched for you every day after that,” he says, and there’s absolutely no hesitation in his voice. “I went back to your old town. I talked to anyone who might have known where you went. Foster agencies. School records. Private investigators.”
