Chapter 33 #2
I stare at him, this man who dragged me from the depths of my apartment floor, drove me across state lines, and is now running me a bath like it's the most natural thing in the world. "Why are you doing all this?"
"Because you'd do the same for me." The simple certainty in his voice steals my breath. "Because you matter, Mia. Because I—" He stops, shakes his head. "Because you shouldn't be alone right now."
I want to argue, to tell him I don't deserve this kindness, but I'm too tired to form the words. Instead, I just nod, watching as he disappears back into the bathroom. The sound of water continues, punctuated by the soft clink of bottles being opened.
When he returns, he extends his hand to me, and I take it without hesitation. His fingers are warm and steady, everything I'm not right now. He guides me to my feet, and I follow him into the bathroom.
The tub is nearly full, steam rising from the surface like morning mist. The scent of lavender fills the air, mixed with something else—chamomile, maybe, or eucalyptus. It smells like peace, like healing, like everything I desperately need but don't know how to ask for.
"I'll leave you to—" Sebastian starts, but I catch his wrist before he can retreat.
"Stay," I whisper, the word barely audible. "Please."
He searches my face, and I know he's looking for signs that I'm asking for the wrong reasons again.
That I'm trying to use physical connection to escape emotional pain.
But this isn't about sex or distraction.
This is about not wanting to be alone with my thoughts, with the crushing weight of failure that threatens to drown me every time I close my eyes.
After a long moment, he nods. "Okay."
I turn away from him, suddenly self-conscious as I undress. With each piece I remove, I feel lighter, as if I'm shedding not just fabric but the weight of the day itself.
Sebastian's presence behind me is a steady warmth, but he doesn't move, doesn't speak. Just lets me set the pace, lets me choose what I need from him.
I step into the tub, and the hot water embraces me like a long-lost friend. A soft moan escapes my lips as I sink deeper, the heat working its way into muscles I didn't realize were clenched tight. For the first time in hours, I feel like I can breathe properly.
"Better?" Sebastian asks, his voice soft.
I nod, not trusting my voice. The water laps at my shoulders as I settle back against the tub's curved edge.
Through the window beside me, I can see the dark outline of pine trees against the star-filled sky.
It's beautiful and peaceful, and I hate that I can't fully appreciate it through the fog of my grief.
A soft rustle of fabric draws my attention, and when I glance over my shoulder, I see Sebastian pulling his shirt over his head.
My breath catches as he reveals the lean lines of his torso, the play of muscle beneath tanned skin.
He's beautiful, and the sight of him sends a flutter of something through my chest.
His jeans follow, and then his boxers, and then he's stepping into the tub behind me. The water level rises as he settles in, his long legs bracketing mine. I feel the solid warmth of his chest against my back as he gathers me against him, and something inside me finally unclenches.
"Is this okay?" he murmurs against my hair.
I lean back into him, letting his arms circle my waist. "Yes," I whisper. "This is perfect."
Sebastian's fingers trail along my arm, from shoulder to wrist and back again, reminding me that I'm not alone in this darkness I've fallen into. His touch is light enough to raise goosebumps despite the heat of the water.
"Your freckles continue all the way down your arms," he murmurs against my hair, voice low and intimate in the steamy quiet. "I never noticed before."
I make a small sound of acknowledgment as his fingertips continue their exploration. It should feel intrusive, being studied this carefully when I'm at my most vulnerable. Instead, it grounds me, reminds me that I'm still here, still whole, even if everything inside feels shattered.
"I know words mean nothing right now," he says, tightening his arms around my middle. "But I'm sorry you're hurting. If I could take your pain, I would."
The simple sincerity in his voice breaks through something in me, some final barrier I've been holding up.
I shift in his arms, settling deeper into the cradle of his body.
My head finds the spot where his shoulder meets his neck.
His skin is warm against my cheek, slightly stubbled jaw rough against my forehead.
I can hear his heartbeat like this, steady and strong, anchoring me when I feel like I might float away into nothingness.
"You've already done more than you'll ever know," I murmur, the words muffled against his skin. Some small part of me marvels at how quickly this intimacy has become comfortable, how natural it feels to be skin to skin with this man who, a week ago, I only knew as my brilliant, demanding boss.
Tilting my head, I press my lips to the pulse point in his neck.
"I care about you too," I whisper, the confession spilling out with surprising ease. When he'd said those words in my apartment, they had seemed impossible, undeserved even. Now, cradled in his arms in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, they feel like the only truth worth saying.
I pull back slightly, expecting him to stop me if I try to kiss him again, remembering how firmly he'd rejected my desperate advances in my apartment.
Instead, Sebastian's hand comes up to cradle the back of my head, fingers tangling in my damp hair.
His eyes search mine, dark and serious in the low light.
"I'm not trying to distract myself anymore," I tell him, needing him to understand the difference. "I just... need to feel connected to something good right now." I swallow hard. "To someone good."
Something shifts in his expression, tension melting into tenderness. His thumb traces the curve of my jaw, catching a droplet of water that rolls down my cheek.
Then he leans in and presses his mouth to mine. Unlike my desperate attempt to escape pain through physical sensation, this kiss is tender and full of unspoken emotion. His lips are soft against mine, yielding rather than demanding, giving rather than taking.
The kiss deepens naturally, his hand still cradling my head as if I'm something precious, something worth protecting. When we finally separate, Sebastian presses his forehead against mine. His eyes remain closed, lashes casting shadows on his cheeks.
"That was..." he begins, then shakes his head slightly, as if words are inadequate.
I understand completely. That kiss wasn't about physical desire, though that's certainly still there between us. It was about connection. About finding an anchor in the storm. About acknowledging that whatever is happening between us goes deeper than either of us expected.
"Yeah," I whisper, my fingers tracing the line of his collarbone.
He opens his eyes then, meeting my gaze with an intensity that would have made me look away a week ago. Now, I hold it, letting him see all the broken pieces, all the raw edges, all the parts of me I usually keep hidden.
"The water's getting cold," he says softly, though he makes no move to release me.
I nod, but don't pull away either. For the first time since Cheryl's death—since my father's death, if I'm being honest—I don't feel the crushing weight of failure pressing down on me.
The grief is still there, the pain still razor-sharp, but in Sebastian's arms, in this moment of connection, I can breathe through it.
"A few more minutes?" I ask, settling back against his chest, my head tucked beneath his chin.
He tightens his arms around me. "As long as you need."
And for now, that's enough. The path ahead is still uncertain, still terrifying.
I've thrown away my career, burned bridges I may never be able to rebuild.
I'll have to face the consequences of my actions, the reality of my losses.
But in this moment, in Sebastian's arms, I find a quiet certainty that I won't have to face it alone.
For tonight, that has to be enough.