Dare

by Glenna Sinclair

  I was almost jealous of him, of the possibility he was somewhere safe and happy while I was left behind here in the hospital, a most unnatural place. I couldn’t stay here right now.

  I slipped out of the intensive care unit and paced the waiting room before riding the elevator all the way down to the lobby. I didn’t feel better until I was outside, a sea breeze lifting my hair away from my face and neck, cooling my panic at the situation. I looked up at the sky—only one or two of the brightest stars were visible in the glare of the city lights—and wondered what I was supposed to do. Was I supposed to just chalk Dad up as a total loss, march right on back upstairs, and pull the plug myself? Or was I supposed to fight through this, just as he might be fighting to get back to me?

  I had no idea what to do.

  I fished my phone out of my pocket and stared at the display. It didn’t really surprise me that I had two missed calls from Sebastian. I’d told him to stop calling me, that I didn’t want to see him again, and yet I found us tossed together time and time again, whether it was through my own weakness or his. I hesitated only a moment before listening to the voicemail he’d left me.

  “Rachel, I don’t know if you’ve even been listening to the messages I’ve been leaving you, but I’m willing to tell you why I want to buy the farm,” he said, his voice sounding too far away to give me any sort of comfort. He’d probably left this message while I was driving back to the farm, fuming after our rendezvous at a loading dock in the city. “I know I told you that I couldn’t tell you the reasons behind it, that it would betray your father’s trust in me, but I decided that I care about your trust more than your father’s. You can trust me. I know you don’t feel like you can, but I promise that you can. Call me. I want to talk about this.”

  I called him, but I wasn’t interested in any secrets he might have to tell me about the farm. He answered after just one ring, as if he were staring at his phone and willing me to call him.

  “Rachel, excellent,” he said. “Now, just give me a few minutes to explain to you what’s going on.”

  “What’s going on is that Dad’s in the hospital,” I said, my own voice sounding foreign to my ears.

  “What?” Sebastian asked, perplexed. “What happened?”

  “A heart attack. Massive.”

  “Which hospital?” I could hear rustling in the background of the call, footsteps, and a jingle of keys, as if Sebastian were moving around.

  I looked at the sign on the side of the building, just visible if I craned my neck upward to read it. “Memorial. In the city.”

  “I’m on my way,” he said. “I’ll be there in less than ten minutes. I promise you.”

  “You don’t have to come,” I sighed, but he had already ended the call, probably to focus on weaving in and out of traffic in that little sports car of his, the one that had scraped up against my truck on the highway all those weeks ago, acting as the impetus for all of this. What would’ve happened if I’d simply picked another route home instead of that one and I’d avoided knowing Sebastian Clementine altogether? Could I have avoided all of this, everything that had led up to Dad being hooked up to life support, in a hospital, away from the farm he loved so much?

  I shook my head. I couldn’t think like that; I couldn’t blame the butterfly that flapped its wings for the hurricane engulfing my life right now. I continued tapping on my phone almost just to have something to do until I had another thought.

  My mother should know about this.

  I didn’t think I was doing her a courtesy as much as I was laying this at her feet—to do with as she willed. We’d corresponded, however briefly, via email, and she’d expressed interest in talking again. Well, here it was. We were going to talk again, though probably not about anything she really wanted to talk about.

  I opened up my email and found her message, hitting reply before positioning my thumbs over my phone’s tiny touch keyboard.

  “I thought you should know that Dad is in the hospital,” I typed. “He had a heart attack and it doesn’t look good. What I need to know from you is whether he had some kind of will or had expressed his wishes to you when it came to life support. I don’t know if he would want to linger or continue on his way.”

  I swallowed hard at that prospect and pushed send. There it was. I was relying on someone who had left the both of us to help determine our future. I didn’t know if Dad would’ve approved, but I was trying my best here. He hadn’t left me with many options or really any real place to turn to.

  I slipped my phone back in my pocket, not expecting my mother to answer right away. It had taken her a while to formulate her initial response to the first message I’d sent to her. And I hadn’t seen her or spoken to her in person for ten whole years. There was that.

  I figured that I should get back inside and be there in case Dad was up to making any decisions on his own, but I noticed a lone figure jogging across the parking lot, someone with a shape I recognized.

  I didn’t know how glad I was to see Sebastian until I flung myself into his arms, holding onto him for dear life. It surprised and angered me at the same time just how isolated my life was on the farm. There wasn’t anyone there I could rely on except Dad, and he was currently laid up in the hospital. I hadn’t had anyone to talk to, choosing social media exile rather than witnessing my old high school and college friends pairing off and getting married and moving away and working their dream jobs and having babies. I’d been stuck there at that damn farm all because I hadn’t wanted to hurt Dad’s feelings like my mother had hurt him, and I’d turned my back on what I’d really wanted at the same time—connections and feelings and the chance at love. Everything.

  “Don’t cry, Rachel,” Sebastian said, holding me tightly. I hadn’t even realized the tears were running down my face until he said something about it. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

  “I don’t think it will be,” I said, my face burrowed into the front of his shirt, wetting it with my tears and not caring. “He’s more machine than man right now. They’re the only thing keeping him alive.”

  Sebastian let out a long sigh. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” I said. “I emailed my mother.”

  “Emailed?” Sebastian winced. “Don’t you think you should’ve called her?”

  “We haven’t seen her in years,” I said. “She left us. The only reason I contacted her in the first place is because Dad and I have never talked about what should happen in a situation like this.”

  “Okay,” Sebastian said decisively. “Let’s go back inside and be with your father. All the details will work themselves out.”

  Those words didn’t really mean anything, especially since I was the one who was supposed to be working out the details, but I was so relieved to have someone else in charge that I meekly followed him inside, let him puzzle over how to get us back to the intensive care unit even though I already knew the way myself. Sebastian even located and made the doctor explain the situation to us once more just so I could be sure that I understood what was happening.

  We sat with Dad until I lost count of the beeps to his heart monitor, until the whole situation became abstract, until I sat up with a jerk and realized I’d been sleeping on Sebastian’s shoulder, his arm around my waist, pulling me close.

  “Sorry,” I blurted out, fuzzy and confused. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I think you probably needed it. Have you even had dinner?”

  I grimaced as my stomach grumbled at the thought of food. “No.”

  “Then let’s get out of here.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, looking over at Dad, but the sight of his gray, expressionless face frightened me. I realized that I really did want to leave, if only to take a break from the magnitude of the situation, so I shut my mouth, nodded, and let Sebastian lead me out of the hospital and into the night.

  Chapter 13

  “I can follow y
ou in my truck,” I said, realizing that we were walking in the opposite direction of the parking garage where I’d left it. “Just in case I need to come back in a hurry. In case anything happens.”

  “Absolutely not,” Sebastian said. “I’ll take you wherever you need to go. Don’t think about this any more than you have to. All I want to do is make it easy for you.”

  I followed him to that sleek little car of his and stopped short of it, feeling numb.

  “Rachel? What’s wrong?”

  I shook my head. “It’s just…you’re being so nice to me. I don’t know why. You don’t have to be. I haven’t been nice to you. I don’t even know why I called you.”

  “You called me because you needed someone to be here with you,” Sebastian reasoned. “I’m flattered, really, that I could do something for you—anything. And I want to do it.”

  “Things are really confusing right now, Sebastian.”

  “I know they are. Let’s just take them one step at a time, all right?” He took my hand and helped me get into the car as if I was some sort of invalid, but I didn’t mind too much. Having him there meant I didn’t have to think as hard about things and could focus on what needed to happen.

  “I don’t even know what the first step should be,” I told him weakly as he sank into the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition.

  “That’s easy,” he said, smiling. “Dinner.”

  “It’s late,” I sighed. “I doubt many places will be open.”

  “This is Los Angeles,” Sebastian laughed. “Everything’s still open. But I thought you could use some home cooking.”

  “Home cooking?”

  “That’s right.” The car purred, as we pulled out onto the street, accelerating to pass a semi-truck lumbering along, probably lost on its way to make a delivery somewhere in the city’s honeycomb of streets.

  “There won’t be a restaurant that offers home cooking that will be open at midnight on a weekday, even in Los Angeles,” I said, skeptical. “Unless by home cooking you mean diner food.”

  “No. When I say home cooking, I mean home cooking,” Sebastian said. He drove beautifully, completely focused even as he spoke to me, as if the car were just an extension of himself. It was well cared for, just like the man who drove it, gleaming and free from dust, trash, and debris. I took care of the old truck I’d been entrusted with, but not as carefully as Sebastian cared for this ride.

  “You’re going to have to explain,” I said, as Sebastian nosed his way through an intersection on a long yellow light.

  “I live not too far from the hospital,” he said, glancing at me. “That’s what I mean by home cooking. I’m going to take you to my home, and you’re going to eat what I fix you.”

  I blinked in surprise. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a cook.”

  He shrugged. “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. Because you’re a billionaire. Because you can hire the finest chefs in the world to make your food for you. Because you’re busy. Because you’re you.”

  “I like cooking,” he said. “Helps clear the mind. It’s a good skill to have, too. Certainly better than squash.”

  “Squash?” I repeated, wrinkling my nose, certain I’d misheard him.

  “You know, the sport,” he said. “You would be surprised how many rich idiots play that pointless game. They say it’s to stay in shape, to be social. Go for a run if you want to stay in shape. Go out for a drink if you want to be social. If you want a hobby, take up cooking. It’s useful. It’s essential. And you never know when you’re going to get to invite a beautiful woman to your house and have a chance to impress her with a meal.”

  I blushed. “Sebastian…” He’d asked me before to try and believe that he was a good person in spite of his sometimes-craggy exterior. And here he was, trying to be charming, taking my mind off of what was happening at the hospital. He’d answered my call, driving out to be with me even if I’d been awful to him. My heart warmed to Sebastian when I’d been almost convinced that it would never do such a thing ever again.

  “I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. That was inappropriate.” He kept his eyes on the road, straight ahead, even as I took a sidelong glance at him.

  “It was…a nice distraction, actually,” I said, feeling suddenly shy even though he knew me inside and out. “Thank you for doing this. You don’t have to.”

  “Rachel, you called me because you needed someone,” he said. “I don’t mind being that someone. Would it make me sound selfish if I told you I was glad to be that someone for you?”

  “I’m just glad you weren’t angry enough at me to ignore my call like I ignored all of yours,” I said, cringing. “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

  “The truth is…I don’t have anyone here I could call except for you.” God, that sounded pathetic even to my ears. I could only guess the kind of pity party Sebastian was throwing for me inside of his head.

  “Then I’m really glad I can be here for you.” He glanced at me, his brown eyes warm even in the darkness of the car. “I mean what I said before, Rachel. About my feelings for you. That still stands.”

  “That we’re on the same page?” I teased him. “Very romantic.”

  “That I love you.”

  That shocked me into silence and sent me reeling off into my own mind. Sure, we’d admitted that we had feelings for each other, but they had been both tenuous and furious at the same time. Our bodies had been responding to each other since we wrecked our cars on the highway, and our personalities were constantly clashing. He was entitled and snooty, secretive and demanding. I was straightforward and oh-so confused. I didn’t know who I was anymore or what I wanted to be. I was devastated that Dad was fighting for his life, buoyed only by the advances of technology, but a wicked shard of my soul thought that maybe this was his punishment for what he’d done—mismanaging everything, ruining everything we had worked so hard on over the course of my lifetime. That was wrong. I knew it was wrong. But there it was. It was inside of me. It was what I felt, and I couldn’t deny my feelings.

  I couldn’t deny my anger toward Dad any more than I could deny my affection for Sebastian. Affection, appreciation, and…love. Yes, there it was. Love underneath all of the confusion, underneath all of the angst and anger and irritation.

  “Rachel, you okay?” Sebastian smiled at me, and I realized we’d pulled into the valet lane at the front of a high rise. “You don’t have to say anything back. You know. About what I said right now. I just wanted to put it out there, to show you that, you know, maybe I’m being a little selfish. I’ll admit that I’m not that good at being a selfless hero. Swooping in here to save you—or feed you, at least. You don’t need saving. You’re a strong woman.”

  He got out of the car, and I accepted the valet’s help in exiting my side of the car. It was so low to the ground that it was almost funny. I was so used to climbing into my truck. You had to practically fold yourself into this car to get in and out of it.

  “I don’t think you’re selfish,” I said, following Sebastian inside the lobby of the building. “I do think you’re crazy for leaving your car for a stranger to park.”

  “Oh, the valet’s not a stranger,” Sebastian said, laughing as he guided me through the glitzy lobby with his hand at the small of my back. “And what did you think of the car? Not so bad on the inside, is it?”

  “Not so bad? It’s a really nice car.”

  “See? You just have to give a car a chance, even if it did rob your truck of its bumper,” he said, ushering me into an elevator lit with an elegant array of track lighting. It was, quite possibly, the nicest elevator I’d ever been in, but it didn’t distract me from Sebastian’s words. He wasn’t talking about a car. He was talking about himself—and me.

  It was very possible that I had been so blinded by our differences that I hadn’t given our similarities a chance to develop and meld. Of course, it hadn’t helped that Se
bastian had been trying to buy the farm out from under us, but I could overlook that now. I needed to overlook that. Sebastian was the only ally I had right now. The only person I had to lean on besides myself.

  The elevator dinged, and I followed him out. There was only one door on the floor we’d ended up on. How was that possible?

  “Don’t you have any neighbors?” I asked stupidly, as Sebastian unlocked the door.

  “Thankfully, no,” he said, laughing as he let me in. “Well, I guess I consider everyone who lives in the building a neighbor. But having the penthouse level to myself…that’s pretty nice. Lots of nice privacy.”

  “You know, there’s lots of privacy out in the country, too,” I said, grinning mischievously. “If privacy is your thing. A lot more privacy there than being crammed in a building with hundreds of other people. Just acres and acres of land as your neighbor.”

  “Sounds pretty relaxing,” Sebastian reasoned, “but you do miss out on one thing in the country that you get in the city.” He hit a switch on the wall and a whirring noise was all the warning I got before the dark space was illuminated by the lights of other buildings, glittering in the night. The effect was breathtaking, especially with all of the lights inside of the penthouse still turned off.

  “Not bad,” I said, though that was a vast understatement. I didn’t even need to see the inside of the penthouse to know it was elegant. The view was that perfect.

  “The only bad thing about the view is that we’re not the tallest building around,” Sebastian said almost glumly. “That means at night, if we turn on the lights, we put on a show.”

  The lights rose dramatically, illuminating the penthouse in a soft glow.

  “I think you’re putting on a show for me right now,” I remarked, looking around, admiring the space. “Wow.” The furniture in the space that was lit up was incredibly eclectic, a surprising mixture of traditional and modern, Eastern and Western art and décor combining into something new. It was as complex as I imagined Sebastian to be.