I nod and start to unwrap it, my mouth watering with the smell of cheese and bacon. He aggressively bites of a giant chunk of his and chews harshly, like a lion devouring his kill. I take a much daintier bite. He’s right—it’s delicious.
“Stephanie.” He swallows and levels me with his eyes, which are almost identical to mine. “When the fuck did you start sleeping with Westwood?”
I almost choke on the chunk of burrito I’m swallowing and head to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. I knew a question was coming. I just didn’t expect it to be so blunt. “I’m not sleeping with him,” I argue back and then pause. “Well, I am sleeping with him, but notjustsleeping with him.”
Seb looks stunned. “Who else are you sleeping with? I’m not judging, Lord knows I got around before Shay and I don’t regret it, but,mon Dieu, Steph, this seems out of character. In Seattle you were the queen of celibacy.”
I realize he took my statement completely the wrong way, and I actually laugh. It’s nervous and sounds garbled because I still seem to have bacon wedged in my windpipe. Ugh. I cough and take another swig of water. “I meant Avery and I are doing more than sleeping together. We’re dating.”
“Avery doesn’t date,” Sebastian states firmly. “Well, other than that blond chick you said he broke up with who’s hanging off him on his Instagram.”
“Yeah, his sister runs his social media. I think she didn’t get the memo Liz and Avery were dunzo,” I explain, and toss him his own bottle of water from the fridge before heading back to the counter to grab my burrito and attempt to eat it like a normal person.
He watches me, silently chewing on his own breakfast. He swallows another chunk—he’s already halfway through his in two bites—and twists open his water bottle, which looks minuscule in his big mitts.
Sebastian is a hulk of a guy. He knows it and he knows how to use it. I’ve watched him mess up tons of opponents on the ice, and I don’t want him doing it to Avery, which is why I’m trying to explain the depth of our relationship to him so he doesn’t think I’m being used.
“I really like him. And he really likes me.” I jump up so I’m sitting on the counter. “We didn’t rush into this. It wasn’t a whim. We’ve talked it out and we both know it’s not some random hookup. Did you know he used to accidentally on purpose run into me while I jogged in Seattle?”
“No. I didn’t.” My brother doesn’t look nearly as impressed by that fact as I am. He finishes his burrito and tosses the tin foil into the garbage next to my sink. Then his head snaps up and our eyes lock. “He knew you had moved here when he picked San Diego.”
I stop chewing and nod. “He did.”
Sebastian stares at me incredulously and whispers, “Holy shit hefollowedyou here?”
“He says he did without really totally saying it anyway.”
“The Saints suck. It’s a virtually impossible team to turn around. Los Angeles and New York would have been easy teams to get to the finals, and San Diego probably won’t even make the play-offs.” Sebastian runs a hand through his brown hair and whispers, “He must love you.”
“I…I mean…” I drop the rest of the burrito on the counter as emotions fill up any empty space in my gut. “Do you think so?”
“Do you love him?” Sebastian asks instead of answering my awed question.
“I’ve never felt this way about someone,” is all I can figure out to say. “It’s terrifying.”
Sebastian smiles at that, but it’s fleeting. “So…he knows…everything?”
I know he doesn’t want to ask. I can tell by the stunted way the question makes its way out of his mouth. But he has to ask because he knows Avery. He knows that his whole life is calculated, well thought out and planned. The fact that I don’t say anything is answer enough. Sebastian groans.
“It’s the past,” I remind him. “And I was actually about to tell him when you showed up.”
He cocks an eyebrow to make sure he gets his sarcastic point across as he replies, “Yes, because all serious conversations start with his hand on your ass and your tongue down his throat.”
“I really was about to tell him,” I repeat firmly, ignoring his little snarky, albeit accurate, comment. “And last time I checked, you and Shayne weren’t big on the communicating in the beginning either. You didn’t even know her dad was a hockey player until after you’d seen her naked. More than once.”
He smiles at that, like he’s reminiscing in his head about his girlfriend’s nakedness.
“Hello! Stop walking down naked memory lane and focus. I will tell Avery about my not-so-stellar past. I promise. It’s just not easy to talk about. It’s not like, ‘Hey, I used to own a cat.’ It’s, ‘Hey, I used to be a runaway with a drug problem.’”
“When did this start?” he wants to know as he takes another sip of water.
“A couple of weeks ago, officially,” I explain, and hastily add, “Well, after he ended things with Liz, or ‘the blonde,’ as you call her.”
“But you’ve been hanging out with him a lot, right? Like in Seattle and when he moved here. He couldn’t live any closer if he tried.” Sebastian motions toward the wall behind him that is the shared wall with Avery’s unit. “And you never, not once, told him about things?”
“You know I don’t talk about it,” I reply, and hand him the rest of my burrito because I’m not going to finish it. He takes a bite so big there’s hardly anything left. “I haven’t told Maddie yet either.”
His rugged face starts to soften and he tilts his head. “Hey. You know you have nothing to be ashamed of, right? I know you know this.”
