There was something at the back of my mind, a quiet warning telling me not to get too comfortable. Not to trust this feeling, no matter how right it seemed.
Sebastian had cut me out of his life once before, and that nagging voice at the back of my head kept whispering there were no guarantees it wouldn’t happen again.
I shook off the thought in time to see Bell pull Sebastian into one of his trademark bone-crushing hugs. When he finally released him, I watched him say something in Sebastian's ear that was too quiet for me to hear. He smiled and shook his head.
Then Ethan turned to Sebastian and extended his hand. “I’m not great with the emotional stuff, but I’ve been where you are. Wherebothof you are.” His gaze flicked briefly to me before returning to Sebastian. “If you need someone to talk to, call me. Anytime.”
Sebastian’s mask slipped for a moment, letting Ethan see the truth behind it. He hadn't expected the offer, and it meant a lot to him. “Thank you. I might actually take you up on that.”
“Good.” Ethan released his hand and stepped back, sliding an arm around Bell’s waist.
We said our final goodbyes and headed toward my car. Behind us, Bell mumbled something that made Ethan laugh, and their door clicked shut.
I let the car idle for a moment before pulling out of the driveway and heading toward home. The road curved along the coast, dusk glinting off the water as I tried to organize the thoughts careening through my mind.
Next to me, Sebastian's fingers drummed a fast, irregular rhythm against his thigh. “That was a lot.”
“It was,” I agreed, my right hand leaving the steering wheel to take his.
Sebastian’s grip was tight enough to hurt.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said after a stretch of silence.
“It was the only thing Icoulddo,” he answered, his voice quiet but filled with absolute certainty. “If I hadn’t, I couldn’t have lived with myself.” He paused, and I heard him draw in a breath. “And just so we’re clear, I meant what I said—I do love you.” He lifted my hand to his mouth, kissing my knuckles. “I know how crazy that sounds,” he continued, “but the truth is, I don’t think I everstoppedloving you. Maybe that’s why it never worked with Wyatt.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him angle his body toward me.
“I don’t know what any of this means, or how we make it work, but I want to try. I want to be with you, Taylor. However you’ll have me.”
The words echoed in my head, colliding with that voice that kept warning me not to trust this. This was everything I had ever wanted to hear, but it terrified me, too. My emotions were enormous—too big for my chest, filling me up and drowning me at the same time.
The road blurred in front of me. I blinked hard and pulled my hand away, yanking on the steering wheel until my tires bumped over gravel. I hit the brakes, my headlights lighting up thick, dense marshland.
I put the car in park and spun to face him, my back pressed flat against the door. “What the fuck does that mean?"
Twin divots formed between his brow like he didn't understand why I was upset.Couldn'tunderstand.
"Your season’s about to start. You’ll be on the road a lot, and when you’re not, you’ll still be focused on hockey. Youshouldbe focused on it. I just meant I’m not making any demands.”
Maybe I was reading too much into it, but it seemed like he was already setting up an excuse for why this wouldn't work. Already preparing his exit strategy for when it turned out I couldn't be what he needed.
Or when he can't give you what you need, a vicious voice at the back of my head supplied.
“I’m more concerned about your job,” I told him, trying to keep my frustration in check. “When you first told me about the campaign, I asked you to stay with me. You told me point-blank it was a bad idea. That you’d be unavailable. That you’d basically disappear into the work. Now you’re turning that back on me?”
Sebastian’s mouth opened, then closed. He released my hand and turned his head slightly to stare out the window, a muscle jumping in his jaw.
“I just need some clarity here, Seb, because you’re giving me whiplash.” I blew out a breath and carded my hands through my hair before dropping them down to rest on my thighs.
“You’re right. I’m … fuck.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and dragged his attention back to me. “When I said that, I was still thinking this was something I could compartmentalize, like I do with everything. But sitting at that table tonight, watching you choose to be honest even when it was scary, I realized I don’t want to do this halfway.”
“What does that even mean?”
“I want to figure out how to make this work. Really work, Tay. Even when it’s hard. Even when we’re both exhausted and in different cities and are stretched too thin.”
The tightness in my chest loosened, but only slightly. Because wanting to make it work and actually being able to were two different things.
And there was still one massive issue he hadn’t addressed. One question that had been eating at me since Vegas.
