For all their bickering, the bond between Helen and Tom was palpable. Unbreakable. Seb hadn’t ever had anyone like that in his life before, and that ache in his chest returned.
Man, he wanted someone like that.
He wanted Helen.
For the first time, he saw how a bond between two people wasn’t a trap, but a lifeline, a source of energy where all good things thrived—and Seb couldn’t thrive without Helen.
But as Tom listened to Helen recount her ordeal, Seb realized that now wasn’t the time to make a grand declaration of love—not in a hospital ward while she lay in a bed bruised, shocked and raw, with her understandably protective brother alongside and the blue curtain surrounding them their only privacy.
Would Helen even believe him now if he told her he loved her?
She’d think it was his guilty conscience talking, mixed with too much adrenaline.
Better to wait until morning.
Helen needed Tom now. And Tom needed reassurance that his sister was okay.
There was no room here for Seb. His commitments lay elsewhere.
He pulled out his phone to reply to Brenda’s message.
Will you make it?
Seb texted back.
Yes. I’ll be there.
When Tom drove Helen home the next day, she limped straight to her hens. She didn’t want to see the reminders of where Jaxon had been in her kitchen, his muddy footprints, the chair she’d thrown over him, the work she’d been doing for him scattered all over the table.
Tom hovered close by, his concern weighing heavily on her. She felt awful about interrupting his holiday and hated that she’d made him worry so much. It was his birthday tomorrow and he’d insisted that she go back to Cornwall with him for a few days. Helen had wanted to spend time with Sebastian, but she couldn’t bear his concern either.
Or his guilt.
The hens fussed around her as she took solace in their gentle squabbling. She picked her favourite one up—the little speckled hen who always pecked her legs—and stroked her feathers smooth. Tom had locked them up last night and Sebastian had let them out this morning, fed and watered them.
She’d been pleased that Sebastian had gone to the finale dinner. Tom had thought it odd, but he’d understood once Helen explained Sebastian’s strong sense of duty and commitment. The finale dinner wasn’t just about him, it was about a team of people, a whole organization, that depended on him.
And Helen had caused Sebastian enough disruption, his summer plans ruined the moment she’d stumbled half-drunk into his life.
Even starting their supposed JustSex affair had been her idea. She’d weakened his restraint and asked him to go with the flow, as if a hot summer fling between them was no big deal—silly, silly fool that she’d been. For a while they’d both enjoyed themselves, but then she had to ruin it by falling in love with him, forcing herself into his inner world, infringing upon his privacy. Something Sebastian had always hated and had been upfront about from the very beginning.Clause four point two, respect each other’s boundaries.
Wasn’t that just like her to have no regard for the rules? Just who did she think she was, believing she had the right to break them? Like breaking in to Jaxon’s flat, taking the law into her own hands. Like her dad believing just because someone was rich, it was okay for him to steal from them.
Like father, like daughter.
Sebastian had been right about that and it was unfair to expect him to put up with her wild ways any longer. Tom said it at the hospital; everything had to be a drama with her and yesterday’s drama was the final straw.
“Ready to go in?” Tom held out his arm for her to take. Her ankle wasn’t bad enough for crutches, but limping was uncomfortable and tiring.
At the back door, Helen steeled herself against the sight of her kitchen, then she stepped in—and halted. Everything had been tidied up and cleaned. Her work was piled to one side, her power cable neatly wound up and placed on her laptop. The room smelled fresh, of lemons mixed with lavender, and the floor was shiny and bright. Even the chair that she’d cracked over Jaxon’s body had been fixed.
Sebastian stepped in from the hallway holding a cloth and cleaning spray, and for a long moment, they simply stared at each other. Until a shadow of sadness and regret darkened his eyes.
Her bruised face. The thick bandage strapped around her ankle. She hated that he still felt guilty.
“We’d better get on the road, Helen,” Tom said behind her. “Do you want me to help you pack your stuff?”
“No, thanks, Tom. I’ll do it myself in a minute.”
