by Emma Hart
She smiled. “Well, sitting here bitching isn’t helping you find out, is it?”
Why was everyone other than me right today?
God.
CHAPTER SIX – SEBASTIAN
rule six: if your grandfather thinks you’re dating… you might as well just agree.
“Holley? You’re bringing Holley?” Kate blinked at me across the kitchen island. “As in Holley-Holley?”
“No, Holly Madison,” I said dryly. “Yes, Holley.”
“Whoa.” She was taken aback for a moment and slowly lowered herself onto one of the bar stools, leaning right back against the back cushion. “I didn’t see that one coming.”
She and I both.
“I have to know how you pulled that off. Everyone knows she’s never forgiven you for Iris.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I snapped. “I’m sick of hearing about fucking Iris. You know that was a mistake.”
“Does she?”
“No. She won’t listen to me, but finally agreed to talk after your wedding.”
“Ah, it makes sense now.” She stirred sweetener into her coffee. “You beat her down until she finally agreed.”
I grinned over the rim of my Bears mug. “Nope. I tricked her into saying yes to going with me, then wore her down.”
Kate blinked at me, unamused. “You haven’t grown up at all, have you?”
“Yes,” I replied. “I’ve grown up a lot. But I haven’t seen her in years, and I feel like an idiot around her.”
“Don’t tell me you still have feelings for her.”
“Don’t be stupid.” I sipped my coffee. “I’ve dated other people since then.”
“Nobody serious.”
“What’s that got to do with it? I have a busy schedule. It’s not like I can drop everything for someone who doesn’t get that. It’s not like most of the women around me see me as anything more than a walking wallet and attention.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you need to keep better company?” She arched an eyebrow. “Just an idea.”
I stared at her. She wasn’t wrong. “Present company included,” I drawled.
“Funny. Brat.” She lifted her cup to her lips and sipped. “So you’re not even bringing her to the ceremony, huh?”
“I didn’t think she’d want to go.”
“Well, I haven’t seen her in a while. I’d be happy to see her there. Text her and find out.”
“I had to trick her into a party, Kate. Do you really think she’s going to agree to more?”
“Ask her and find out.” She pushed my phone toward me. “Or I’ll drive into town and tell her what really happened at prom.”
“You’re too old to be blackmailing me.” I grabbed my phone and unlocked it.
“And you’re too old to be doing the yes-no game with the girl you were once in love with, but here we are.”
“I was never in love with her.”
“I beg to differ, but whatever.”
I was absolutely in love with Holley eight years ago.
ME: Kate said she wants you to come to the ceremony if you’re able to.
“There, done.” I put my phone back down. “Are you happy now?”
“I’ll be happy when I’m Mrs. Perry and I can breathe easy,” she admitted. “Until then, I’m wondering if you have any liquor for this coffee.”
I retrieved a bottle of Irish cream from the bottle rack under the island and put it in front of her.
She poured it in until her mug was almost brimming over the top and, still gripping the neck of the bottle, leaned forward and slurped from the rim.
“You all right over there, sis?”
“Yup.” She finally released the bottle. “You have a text.”
A glance at my phone confirmed she was right.
HOLLEY: I mean… I can, but I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.
I relayed the message to Kate.
“Wrong idea about what? It’s not like anyone is going to believe you’re in a relationship. You’ve been back in White Peak a hot minute.” She rolled her eyes. “The only reason people would think there’s something going on that isn’t is if you give that impression. So… don’t give it.”
Right. Like it would be that simple.
ME: Just as friends. Promise. She really wants you there.
HOLLEY: Way to blackmail me into it.
ME: Don’t shoot the messenger. Shoot the needy bride.
HOLLEY: I’m not shooting anyone.
HOLLEY: Although you are up for debate.
ME: Do you even have a gun?
HOLLEY: You don’t want me to answer that question.
ME: Why do you have a gun? What are you doing with it? Defending your bookstore from literature-loving bears?
HOLLEY: I use it to threaten overzealous, persistent, pain in my ass baseball players who won’t take no for an answer.
ME: Thank God I’m not overzealous.
HOLLEY: I’m not even going to justify that with a response.
ME: Soooo… Are you coming to the ceremony?
HOLLEY: For your sister. Not for you. Never for you.
ME: Tell me how you really feel, nerd.
HOLLEY: Call me that again and I’m going to blast your genitals into next week.
ME: Sounds kinky.
HOLLEY: With my gun, asshole.
ME: Still kinda kinky.
HOLLEY: See if you feel the same when you’re licking them off the frozen sidewalk.
ME: And there goes the sexiness.
HOLLEY: Good. Now go away. Some of us have work to do.
ME: I’m sure owning a bookstore is hard.
HOLLEY: You ever moved a weekly delivery of books around? I bet I have bigger biceps than you.
ME: Ask me nicely on Saturday and I’ll show you mine.
HOLLEY: I’d rather gauge out my eyeballs with a dessert spoon.
ME: Always so friendly.
HOLLEY: You’re welcome. Have a nice day now.
Laughing, I set down my phone and looked at my sister, who was staring at me with one eyebrow raised. “She’s coming to the ceremony.”
All confusion petered out from her expression and she grinned, clapping her hands in glee. “Yay! Oh, Seb, this is going to be the best day ever!”
Given that she’d just asked for liquor in her coffee, I was going to withhold judgment until after the weekend had passed.
***
I finished the last exercise that Elliott, my physical therapist, had insisted I do twice a day, and took a shower. The second I stepped under the hot water, the ache in my shoulder lessened, and I took a few moments to breathe it in and just let the muscles rest before I had to wash up and get out.
The moments didn’t last long enough.
I washed off and got out, then wrapped a towel around my waist on my way to my bedroom.
I’d bought this house three years ago and never lived it in for longer than a couple of weeks until now. There was always something to do, somewhere to go, someone who needed me.
Now, the only something to do was recover, the only place to go was here, and the only person who needed me was… me.
Maybe I needed to get a dog or something.
I stopped.
Hey. A dog!
That wasn’t the worst idea in the world.
It was definitely one for the old memory box, just in case my recovery didn’t go as planned.
I dried off and got changed into some sweats and a t-shirt. I followed it up quickly with a zip-up sweater since it was fucking cold, then I headed downstairs to get some breakfast.
I’d left my phone on the island, so I grabbed it off the dark granite counter and checked the notifications while I turned on the coffee machine. There was a voice message from my coach asking how I was doing, so I shot him off a text letting him know I was fine and that Elliott was happy with my progress so far. Another voice message from my mom accompanied five missed calls.
I winced as I listened to
that lecture about not answering my phone.
You know. Like I’d died in the fucking shower.
I hit the call back button as the machine finished spitting out my coffee.
“Sebastian!” Mom trilled down the line. “There you are!”
“I’m sorry that me taking a shower was an inconvenience for you, Mother,” I said dryly.
“Don’t you take that tone with me, boy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“That’s better.” She paused. “Are you really bringing Holley to the wedding?”
My nostrils flared. It’d taken her long enough. It’d been two days since I’d seen my sister. “Yes. Why?”
“I was just wondering. I didn’t know you’d reconnected.”
“Well, now you do.”
“I don’t care who you are, Sebastian Stone, I will take you over my knee and beat your ass if you keep giving me attitude.”
“No attitude,” I said quickly. “Just conversing. I haven’t had my coffee yet.”
“Mmm.” The line crackled. “Well, your shoes have been delivered to our house instead of yours and you need to come get them.”
“The wedding shoes?”
“No, Sebastian, your flip-flops for this sub-tropical weather we’re having.”
I glanced out the window at the thin layer of ice that had settled on the grass and coated my large front yard. Even my truck held a layer of white, icy shit on it.
Now who had the attitude?
“They were supposed to go to your house,” I replied. “Like the suit. Remember?”
“No.”
“Ask Kate. I didn’t organize any of this. I’m just paying for the venue and being a good brother.”
She harrumphed. “Keep your phone line clear. And put it on ring. This is a very important time in your sister’s life!”
“Understood. Bye, Mom.” I hung up and immediately dialed my sister. Before she could say a word, I said, “Momzilla is calling you.”
“Motherfu—”
I cut her off before she could finish her curse, knowing that Mom would already be trying to get through.
Honestly, that woman needed to be in the White House.
She got shit done.
World poverty? Cured in six months. Virus outbreaks? She’d verbally beat them into submission. Terrorists? She’d have them confessing in two minutes and begging for the death penalty by lunchtime.
Trust me.
I’d begged for it once or twice in my life.
I picked up my mug and went to the living room. Recovery was a weird business—I was so used to doing something, to training, to being busy, that the knowledge that I had absolutely nothing to do other than get my shoulder better was almost haunting.
And I was bored.
I was so fucking bored.
I had nothing to do. Some people begged for this, and sure, I’d occasionally had moments where I, too, had wanted free time to do nothing but watch TV and lounge around like a kept gentleman.
Now that I had it, I wanted to do anything but this.
I put down my coffee and got back up off the sofa. I’d just had a shower, but my legs were itching for something to do. Running was on my approved list of exercises because it was gentle on my shoulder, so I was going to go for a jog and see if I could burn off some of this antsy energy I was carrying around.
I grabbed some socks from the laundry room, then put them on followed by my sneakers. After pausing to pick up my phone, keys, and wallet, I headed out into the chilly morning air.
The cold washed over me, and I sighed. Apparently, getting all worked up had made me hotter than I’d realized, and the early winter air was a welcome relief from that.
After walking for a minute, I broke into a gentle jog and headed in the direction of town. I knew at the end of this fifteen-minute run there would be Bear Claw Café with coffee and hopefully a hot pastry to refill my energy before I turned around and went home.
There was always an ulterior motive as far as running was concerned.
If there wasn’t, you weren’t running right.
As I left the neighborhood, I glanced in the direction of the mountains where Kate was getting married in a couple of days. They were snow-capped, and judging by the thick, gray clouds that were moving in to hug them, that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.
That made me smile.
Kate had wanted snow, and snow she was going to get. I’d booked out the entire ski resort, and she wouldn’t have to go far up the mountain to get her wish.
I turned into town and passed the entrance to Peak Place. A smile ghosted over my lips at the memories that hit me; the parties that we, as idiot teens, had thought our parents didn’t know about; sneaking out for dates and finding a secluded spot; sitting and talking with Holley until the sun went down and the moon came up and we’d both broken our curfew.
Shit.
I’d had so many chances back then to tell her how I’d felt.
What would my life be like now if I had?
Would I have lost my best friend anyway?
I shook those thoughts away and slowed until I was walking. The café was just up ahead, and I wiped my forehead with my sleeve to get rid of the sweat that had beaded there.
Thankfully, the café was open and it was quiet. I was still somewhat of a novelty in town, especially to the little kids who weren’t accustomed to seeing one of their favorite baseball players walking down Main Street like it was no big deal.
Thankfully, to Johanna, I was still the lanky ten-year-old with crooked teeth whose body hadn’t caught up with his height yet.
“Good morning, Sebastian!” she sang, turning a knob on the coffee machine so it sputtered out water and hissed. “How are we today?”
I grinned at her. “I’m good, Johanna. How are you?”
“Can’t complain, can’t complain!” She turned the knob back and set the coffee on a plate, her blonde bun bobbing as she handed the coffee to the customer with a smile. “What can we get for you today?”
“What do you have that I can eat my body weight of?”
“I don’t have two hundred pounds of croissants and cheesecake, if that’s what you’re asking.” She wiped her hands on her apron and crossed to the pastry cabinet. “Felicity! Are you done with that bread yet?”
There was fresh bread?
Yum.
Felicity, Johanna’s adopted daughter, poked her head in from the kitchen and frowned, her dark eyebrows pinching in at the center of her forehead. “Mom! I brought it out ten minutes ago!”
Johanna turned and looked at the shelving behind her and let out a booming laugh. “I didn’t even notice.”
“Story of my lie.” Felicity met my gaze and beamed, her entire face lighting up. Her dark braids were tipped with blue, and it looked amazing against her dark skin. “Seb! Morning!”
“Morning, Felicity. So you made the bread?”
She nodded, blushing hard. “The bakery is shut this week for some renovations, so I’m baking some for Mom and selling it here.”
“I might buy it,” Johanna stage-whispered, winking at me as she set a load of Felicity’s bread down. “It’s up for sale you know.”
“Mom!” Felicity hissed. “I told you, I want to save up to buy it.”
“And you can,” she replied without batting an eyelid. “From me. It won’t be for sale forever, and you’ve worked hard on your bakery skills. You can buy it at market price in a few years when you’re ready.”
My lips twitched. I’d always loved that about Johanna and her husband, Darian. They’d adopted Felicity and her brother, Xander, when they were five and three respectively. Ever since then, they’d worked to teach them the value of hard work and give them the life their parents hadn’t been able to.
Hadn’t wanted to.
I had no doubt that Johanna was telling the truth—that she’d buy the bakery for her daughter and make her earn it fair and square.
“I didn’t know it was
up for sale,” I remarked, eyeing the pastries in the cabinet.
Johanna nodded. “It’s the worst kept secret in White Peak. Alison and Martin are ready to retire, and I asked them if they were going to rent or sell. They said sell, and I’m happy with the price they want.” She shrugged and grabbed a takeout coffee mug for me.
“Mom!” Felicity protested. “You can’t buy me a business!”
“Oh, child.” She shook her head. “I’m not buying you a business. I’m buying me a business, hiring you to run it, and you can buy it when you want it. If you want it. At market price,” she finished gleefully. “Now, Sebastian, what can I get for you?”
Felicity groaned and disappeared back to the kitchen.
“All of it,” I answered honestly. “But I ran here and can’t run with cheesecake. My coach will be happy to hear that.”
Johanna belly laughed. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll bring you a slice over, and I won’t tell your coach if you won’t.”
“You’re a woman after my heart, Johanna. Are you sure I can’t convince you to leave Darian for me?”
Another huge laugh that lit up the entire café. “Sit your butt down, boy, and stop flirting. I’m older than your mother.”
I held up my hands in defeat and backed away to a table, chuckling to myself as I took a seat at one of the many vacant tables. It was still early, and since it was Sunday, I didn’t expect her to get too busy until lunchtime.
Which suited me just fine.
My table was in the corner, furthest away from the door. It was the perfect place for people watching. I did just that as I waited for Johanna to bring me a coffee and a slice of cheesecake which was, apparently, my breakfast.
I’d had worse days.
I leaned back, making myself comfortable, and unzipped my sweater to take it off. The café was warm and toasty, and I scanned the tables, pausing when the door opened a very familiar brunette stepped inside.
