by K. A. Hobbs
“Like this stool?” I ask, not entirely sure what she’s trying to get at.
“Mmhmm.” She nods. “And that nice bit of counter where your hands have been sitting.”
“Yes…” I frown, and then I realise. “Did you two have sex on the counter?”
She shrugs with a knowing smirk, knocking her index finger against her nose and spinning in the direction of the coffee machine. “I couldn’t possibly say. Molly doesn’t kiss and tell.”
“You mean she doesn’t shag on the kitchen counter and tell. But then, actually, you basically just told me. I’ll just double check it with young Sebby when he gets back, yes? Just for confirmation, of course.”
“Oh, I can’t wait for you to call him that to his face. I love it when he growls,” she says dreamily, and I know that no matter what happens or what stands in their way, Molly is absolutely head over heels for this guy.
“He growls? Damn, I wish George would growl at me. Think Sebby can teach him?” I wonder, tapping my finger on the surface in front of me then recoiling. “Please tell me you disinfected this surface you filthy woman.”
“Well, I mean…” She touches her fingers to her lips with an impish smile. “There was the sexing, and then there was sleeping, and then drowning. I can’t say I’ve got around to it yet. I can’t speak for Sebby, though.”
I jump up so quick the room spins a little. “Oh my God! That’s bloody disgusting. This is a kitchen, Molly. People eat here. I’m all for kitchen counter sex, but if you’re going to place your naked butt crack on the surface people will eat their toast on, at least clean the bloody thing.” I shudder. “Pass me the dettol. I don’t want to catch anything.”
“I was distraught!” she cries out, doing her best Moaning Myrtle voice but ruining it by laughing mid-sentence. “I’m kidding, genius. It’s clean.”
I sit back down and rest my head in my hands. “You’re evil. Seriously evil. I had mental images. I pictured finding a stray pube in my croissant, bodily fluids… Don’t ever do that again.”
“And miss out on seeing that face again? No chance.” She giggles, her face dropping into what is, I hope, a seriously exaggerated version of my disgusted expression.
“One of these days, I’ll get my own back on you, and when I do…”
I stop talking when I hear the front door open and the sound of footsteps coming toward us. “I think we have company.” I grin seconds before George walks through the door. “Well hello there. Where did you come from? Surely you’re not human? They don’t make humans that look like you, do they, Molly?” I tease, hoping to see George blush.
When I don’t get a response instantly, I glance at Molly quickly—not wanting to miss that gorgeous flush that stains George’s cheeks—to see that she only has eyes or ears for one thing in the room and it isn’t me or George. She’s staring at Sebastian with a warily hopeful expression, her bottom lip being torn to shreds by her nervous chewing.
“What did you get?” I ask George whose hands are full of bags.
I step to the side but keep my eyes on Molly. I’m curious to see what Seb’s first move is, and even more curious to see how Molly will react.
He stands in the doorway, hovering with his hands shoved into his pockets, attempting to look anywhere but at Molly and failing miserably. He can’t keep his eyes off her, and they hold that same nervous caution that makes me want to bang both their heads together.
“Hey,” Molly attempts, surprising me by being the one to break the stalemate. I’d kind of assumed it would be him.
Relief washes over his features as he takes a step forward, followed by another, and another, until he’s only feet away from her, his hands shifting from his pockets only to twitch by his sides awkwardly. It’s clear he wants desperately to touch her, but doesn’t know whether or not it would be welcome.
Christ! Do I have to do everything around here?
“Oh, for Heaven’s sake. Molly, put the poor man out of his misery. Sebby, she’s waiting for you to close the gap. Don’t make me come over there.”
“Did she just call me…?” Sebastian finally speaks, the soft lilt and gentle humour in his tone instantly relaxing me as I smile.
“Oh yes. Apparently you’re Sebby now. Aren’t you thrilled?”
“I’m not sure how I feel, but I’m confident that thrilled isn’t the right emotion.” He chuckles before rolling from the balls of his feet to his heels several times. “You look… warmer.”
“It’s getting hot in here,” Imogen says not so subtly, wafting her collar against her neck and laughing at her own joke. “Sebby, you smooth talker, you.”
“Immy,” I growl, shooting her my best seriously look and flickering my eyes between her and the door.
Her eyes roll so far back that I’m certain she must get a good look at her own optic nerves before she grumbles, “Fine. Leave. Spoilsport. I’ll be in here. Bleaching your counters.”
Cow.
“I’m going to kill her,” I mumble, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot before high tailing it through to the living room, shooting her a death glare as I go, not daring to look at him and see whether he’s pissed that I told her.
“Free cleaning services.” He shrugs, following me easily. “Let her go nuts. I would.”
I laugh, really laugh, the sound bursting free from my chest like it’s been dying to break out for so long it can’t contain itself any more.
“Now that’s a sound I like to hear,” he says with a smile, closing the gap between us. His hands move slowly to my hips, his eyes searching mine for whether or not the contact is okay.
I shift my hands to cover his, my fingers skating along his warm skin, feeling every muscle and sinew underneath until they reach his elbows. Sighing, I allow them to settle there, pressing lightly to pull him closer.
His uncertain expression instantly melts into pleasure as he takes the hint, and before I know it, I’m wrapped up in his arms, feeling his warmth, his love, his everything seeping into my bones and filling me up until I feel as though I’ll burst.
“Seb,” I whisper, raking my fingers over his back under his shirt.
“I think we need to talk,” he murmurs, words that send icy cold fingers of dread skittering along my spine. My whimper must be audible, because his arms tighten around me, his lips dipping to drop kisses on the crown of my head and shushing me calmly. The slow, steady beating of his heart against my cheek soothes the panic that wants to erupt inside my chest.
With one last, super tight squeeze, he releases me before taking my hand in his and tugging me towards the couch. We sit side by side, our thighs touching and our hands entwined on his lap as his thumb strokes over my knuckles softly.
“I want… No. I need you to promise me that what happened this morning won’t ever happen again.” He’s using that voice again, the doctor voice that people can’t say no to—the one that convinces recalcitrant patients to take their medication or go for the x-ray they don’t believe they need. The one that brings me to my knees with the need to please him.
Taking my momentary silence for reluctance, he shifts his body sideways to look at me, taking my cheek in his free hand. “Do you have any idea how much it scared me to wake up and find you gone, only to search the house and then the beach and see you floating out to sea and not doing a single thing to stop it?”
“I… I wasn’t thinking about anything but making it all stop. The guilt, the pain. I just wanted it to stop.”
“I know. And I understand that. I do. But I really need you to stop and think a little deeper before you plunge yourself into ice cold water again. I need you to think about all the people who love you, the children at school who rely on you, the fact that although the pain might seem insurmountable in that moment, it is temporary. No pain lasts forever. Please don’t allow yourself to make permanent decisions about temporary problems. The world needs you. I need you.”
My eyes mist over at the sincerity in his voice, and I cling on tighter to him. He is my life
raft in this confusing sea of emotions I can’t even begin to untangle without him. They’re firing at me from all angles: love for Seb, love for Ben, guilt at loving them both, guilt at my desperate desire to move on and move forwards with Seb, pain at knowing that doing so will mean finally admitting to myself that he’s really gone and not coming back.
“It was just… too much,” I whisper, his strength making me feel inexplicably stronger, his vehemence making me feel needed and his pain making me feel wanted, desired, maybe even loved.
“I know. But you don’t have to do any of this alone any more. When it’s too much, you tell me and we work through it together. What’s better: ice cold water and almost certain death, or a warm pair of arms and a set of ears willing to listen? You have me, Molly. You pretty much had me from the first string of profanities you let out when that shop door slammed into your head—I’m still sorry for that, by the way.”
I wait for my streaming thoughts to arrange themselves into some sort of order while he waits patiently for me to reply.
“I think I was scared that turning to you would mean turning my back on him.” My honesty frightens me a little and I duck my head, my teeth gnawing at my bottom lip.
His hands won’t allow me to look away, though. They chase my chin and tilt it up to meet his intense, warm eyes. “I need you to understand that I would never ask you to do that. He will always be a part of you. I don’t want that part of your life to ever fade away or be compartmentalised out of guilt. All I’m asking is for you to allow me to be the new phase of your life. I am in love with you, Molly Sparrow. I’m in love with your empty cupboards and your pyjamas that should have been binned back when dinosaurs still roamed the earth. I’m in love with your mood swings and your coffee addiction. I’m in love with your laughter and I’m in love with your tears. I’m in love with the way you enjoy cookies as though each one is a spiritual experience, and I’m in love with the fact that, even though you see a spilled crumb as a cardinal sin, you still share them with me and only grumble a tiny bit at the mess I make. I’m in love with every single inch of you, and all that other stuff—that noise in your head telling you that this is wrong—it’s all just gravy. All that matters here is you and me, and how we feel.”
All I can do for the longest time is just stare at him. I can’t even blink for so long my eyes start to sting. My chest is full and tight, but for the longest time, it isn’t tight with pain and guilt but with hope—hope for a future I never thought I’d have. Hope for a life that might not consist of constantly picking through the wreckage of what I lost.
“I…” I attempt, my voice thick and unwilling to cooperate with me. Clearing my throat, I try again through a nervous giggle. “I don’t really have a speech prepared.”
He laughs, the sound thick with emotion as his fingers move lightly over my cheek.
“But, since we’re being honest and all… The crumb thing is really annoying.” I giggle at his amused eye roll and the soft love tap he delivers to my thigh. “But in spite of that, and the fact that you hate on my poor jimmers when they’ve done absolutely nothing to you, I kinda, sorta, love you, too.”
His eyes twinkle like gemstones, alight with a myriad of colours I’ve never spotted there before, and he stares intently into mine, radiating the truth of all his words right into my soul. “We’ll discuss the many varied ways your bedroom attire offends me later on. For now, I’d really like to kiss you.”
“Hmm,” I say, feigning thoughtfulness. “I think I might quite like that, too.”
And so he does.
His lips sear mine as he throws himself against me, pushing me flat on my back on the couch. He settles over me, allowing just enough of his weight to blanket me to set the world to rights. The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s demanding and frantic, reinforcing every word, both said and unsaid. He doesn’t caress or tease so much as plunder and take everything I’m willing to give. His hands are everywhere, almost bruising in their desire to map out every part of my body. He’s like a starving man in the desert, finding an all you can eat buffet and throwing himself in with gusto. I’ve never felt more desired, more alive in my life. Every throaty groan, every mumbled curse reminds me that he loves me. And that I love him. This isn’t a moment of weakness. It’s a joining of souls, a joining at the crossroads and deciding to take the same road together, hand in hand.
Every part of my body screams out for his touch, for his lips. For any part of him, because every part of him is perfect.
“I fucking love you, Sparrow,” he growls as his fingers fumble to remove my shirt, followed swiftly by his tongue and teeth, sizzling against my bare skin as my hands tug at the hair at the nape of his neck, urging him forwards.
“Umm, I fucking love both of you, but, Sebby, you have a bit of a situation.”
I growl and Seb groans through an agonised pout at the unexpected appearance of my ex best friend at the door.
“Kind of in the middle of something here, Immy,” I attempt, tugging Seb down closer to shield my half naked torso, even though she’s seen it all before.
“I can see that.” She smirks. “All the windows in the house are steamed up and I swear the couch is creaking and the walls are shaking. But, his dog is in peril.”
Seb goes stiff as a board above me, a long, slow groan emitting from his lips as he reaches for my discarded jumper and covers me with it before sitting back on his heels and casting Imogen a rueful glance.
“Fast work there, Sebby. I bet your doctor training comes in handy, huh?”
I can hear the low rumble in his chest that denotes the fact that Imogen has approximately twenty seconds to live unless she coughs up what she interrupted us for.
Chuckling, I drag on my sweater and sit up, placing my hands on his knees and rubbing soothingly in a promise of more later.
“Find the chase and cut to it, Imogen,” he grumbles, his hands mussing up his already messy hair.
“Sexual frustration is a bitch, huh?” She smirks. “Anyway, a girl is buzzing up your phone, so I answer it. She rants at me and tells me that you told her you’d be like an hour or so when you dropped the dog off. I’m going to guess she’s not an animal lover because she told me to tell you to get your arse back there now or she’s listing the mutt on eBay. I don’t even think you can list livestock on there?”
“Clearly you’ve never met my sister. Charlotte could probably put the president of the United States on there and get away with it. She can be very determined.” He glances at me, curiously. “Want to come pick Libby up? Maybe a walk along the beach? She’ll be going mad with cabin fever by now because Lottie the cat person definitely won’t have walked her.”
I nod eagerly, sitting up and brushing my hands through my hair in an attempt to tame it. I’m about to answer him when Immy’s voice interrupts me.
“We can all go. George and I would love a walk with Libby.”
There’s a strange sort of lightness to my entire body as I skip along beside Sebastian, hand in hand, while he pulls me along with a wide grin and a bounce to his step that I’m certain wasn’t there before. It’s like a huge weight has been lifted from both of us, leaving us free and able to breathe deeply for the first time.
He doesn’t say much, but the cheerfulness of his posture tells me everything I need to know. He wants to be here with me. And miraculously, that little voice in the back of my head that’s always whispered to me that it’s wrong for me to seek any sort of happiness has fallen silent. All I can feel is the contentment that wells up inside me at the warmth his affection for me brings and the comfort and safety I feel being by his side.
I want this. I want him. All of him.
When I look at him, I see a future where once all I could see was bleak darkness stretching out interminably ahead of me.
It’s nice to have this moment together alone, while George and Immy wait at my place for us to return with Libby. I think she could tell from looking at us just how much we needed this little slice o
f time just the two of us, to allow all our feelings to slot into place before moving forward.
His sister’s place is nothing like his quaint cottage. She lives in an old church that has been converted into flats, but the only sign of any sort of history inside her flat is a single stained glass window that colours the light in the room, painting our faces in random shades of green, red and blue as Seb casually introduces me to her.
“Lottie, this is Molly Sparrow,” he says while Libby dances around his feet, her rear end wiggling madly with delight at seeing her AWOL owner.
“Pleasure to meet you,” she replies warmly, holding out a hand towards me with a curious smirk. “He’s never brought a girl round before. Either he must really like you or you’re really good at baking.” She chortles lightly at her own joke while Seb swats at her arm playfully.
“I don’t know about that, but I buy a mean packet of Fox’s cookies.”
“Ah,” she says knowingly. “His favourites. No wonder he’s got that smitten look on his face that I haven’t seen since he had a crush on his Chemistry teacher at high school.”
“Aaaaaaand we’re leaving,” Seb mutters on a groan, bending down to scoop Libby up and grinning broadly when she showers him with doggy kisses.
“Oh no,” I throw back, stepping forward and looping my arm through Charlotte’s. “I think your sister and I have lots to talk about. We’re not going anywhere.”
Looking slightly crestfallen, he wrestles with a wriggling Libby, who is so overjoyed to see him that she wants to kiss every inch of his face. “But…”
“But nothing,” Charlotte barks at him with a smile that only a sister could use. “Go and put the kettle on. Molly and I are going to dig out the old baby photos.”
“Don’t you dare,” he says, finally relinquishing his hold on Libby only for her to bounce around on her back paws at his feet adoringly.
“Pfft. Please. You think I kept all those photos Mum took of your ugly tush for all these years only to allow my chance to humiliate you with them slip by? No. Go make tea, baby brother. We’ll be in the living room… bonding.”
