I blinked, forcing a smile on my face that I hoped didn’t look as brittle as it felt.
These memories—all the times we’d taken care of each other without saying that’s what we were doing—hit me harder than I expected. I coughed to cover my reaction and forced myself to switch topics to something safer.
“You used to hum while you did your homework at that shitty little dining table.”
“You must have imagined that.”
“I assure you, I did not. Taylor Swift, specifically. Don’t even try to deny it.”
Sebastian’s cheeks turned pink.
“Which album was your favorite?”
“Red,” he answered with a small, sad-looking smile.
“The breakup album,” I acknowledged.
He looked away. “I listened to it a lot after …” He trailed off, not finishing his sentence. Then again, he didn’t have to. I knew exactly what he wasn’t saying.
“All Too Well?”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “That one hit a little too close to home.”
“It did,” I agreed.
Sebastian could never know how that song had wrecked me when I heard it live during the Eras Tour. How I’d gotten shitfaced later and texted my teammate Stryker Bell, telling him I wanted to get “And I forget about you long enough to forget why I needed to”tattooed down my rib cage.
Sebastian stood and crossed to the window. “Do you ever wonder what our lives would have been like if I hadn’t walked away?”
“Doyouever wonder?” I asked, turning the question back on him. “If we might’ve made it, or if we would’ve fizzled out anyway.”
“Honestly? I used to wonder all the fucking time.”
“Used to?” I asked.
“It was killing me, Taylor,” he said quietly, his voice breaking on my name. “I had to learn how to let go of you, or I’d have gone crazy. It wasn’t easy, but I couldn’t … I couldn’t keep living like that.” His eyes were sad as he spoke, like he hated hurting me with his honestly, but didn’t know what else to say. “I never expected our paths to cross again. You were supposed to be part of my past.”
“Right. Your past.” I turned away so he wouldn’t see how badly his words stung.
I’d known this thing we were doing was temporary, that the second I left this room, it was over.
I’dknownit. But I’d hoped for more anyway.
That hope quietly died as a knock sounded at the door, signaling the delivery of our breakfast.
“I’ll get it,” Sebastian said too quickly, tightening his robe as he moved to the door.
A hotel employee wheeled in a cart laden with covered dishes, the smell of maple syrup and bacon filling the room. My mouth watered, even though my stomach felt unsettled.
Sebastian grabbed his wallet and tipped the man, locking the door behind him, then turned to survey our meal with a shake of his head. “I may have gone overboard.”
“No such thing,” I said with forced cheerfulness, moving to the small table where he was busy laying out each dish.
I smiled up at him as I sat—the kind of look that said I understood his need to press pause on our discussion.
I reached for a piece of bacon. “I could eat a horse.”
We ate in silence for a long minute, the tension from our conversation slowly easing.
