Chapter 36
Sebastian
The water grows colder around us, but I can't bring myself to move.
Mia's body pressed against me, her eyes holding mine with an openness that steals my breath.
This is everything I never knew I needed.
Years of keeping everyone at a careful distance, and here I am, cracked wide open by this woman who stormed into my life like a force of nature.
And she's falling for me too. The knowledge settles in my chest, warm and steady, making me feel lighter than I have in years.
"We should probably get out before we turn into prunes," I finally say, brushing my thumb across her cheek to catch a stray droplet of water.
She nods and nibbles her lip. "Probably."
Neither of us moves for another long moment.
Then I press a quick kiss to her forehead and step out of the tub.
Grabbing a towel from the rack, I wrap it around my waist before grabbing another for Mia.
She watches me, those green eyes following my movements with an appreciation that makes heat spread through my veins despite our recent activities.
"Come here," I say, holding the towel open for her.
She stands and steps into my arms. I wrap the towel around her, using the corners to gently dry her shoulders, her back, taking my time as if this simple act is something precious. Because it is.
"I need to get our bags from the car," I tell her, tucking a wet strand of hair behind her ear. "You good?"
"Better than good," she answers, her smile small but real.
After pulling on yesterday’s jeans and shirt, I head outside.
The ranch spreads out before me, bathed in early morning light that turns everything golden.
Dew sparkles on the grass between the cabins.
A pair of horses graze in the distant paddock.
Birds call to each other from the trees, their voices creating a morning symphony I'd forgotten existed in the years I've spent surrounded by car horns and ambulance sirens.
It's beautiful. It's home. And for the first time in years, that thought doesn't come with a sting of regret or failure.
The trunk of my car opens with a soft click, and I grab our hastily packed bags. Mia's is lighter than mine, her things thrown together in the fog of grief and shock. I sling both over my shoulder and head back to the cabin.
When I step back inside, Mia is standing by the bedroom door in nothing but a towel, her hair wrapped in another. She's looking out the window, sunlight painting her profile in gold, highlighting the delicate curve of her nose, and the fullness of her lips.
"Enjoying the view?" I ask, setting our bags on the couch.
She turns. "It's so peaceful here."
"Wait until you meet the chickens. Peaceful goes out the window around feeding time."
Her laugh is quiet, but it does something to my insides, unravels knots I didn't know were there.
Unzipping her bag, I pull out a pair of jeans, a soft green t-shirt, and underwear. "Here," I say, holding them out to her. "Get dressed before I'm tempted to keep you naked all day."
The flush that spreads across her cheeks and down her neck is fascinating. She takes the clothes from me, her fingers brushing mine in a way that feels deliberate.
"No peeking," she says with a hint of her usual mischief as she drops her towel and heads into the bedroom.
I don't listen, of course. I follow her, leaning against the doorframe as she slides simple cotton panties up her legs. The sight of her makes me ache in ways that have nothing to do with sex and everything to do with how much I want to keep her, to make her mine in every way that matters.
She catches me watching and raises an eyebrow. "Didn't I say no peeking?"
"I'm terrible at following rules," I tell her, crossing the room in three long strides. "Especially when you look like that."
Hands on her waist, I pull her against me, and her arms come up around my neck.
"We're going to be late for breakfast," she murmurs against my lips.
"They'll wait," I assure her before capturing her mouth in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly turns desperate.
Her body arches into mine and I walk her backward until her legs hit the bed, then follow her down, my weight pressing her into the mattress. Her legs part for me, and I settle between them, the rough denim of my jeans dragging against her underwear.
"Sebastian," she breathes, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
"I know," I say, understanding exactly what she needs because I need it too—this connection, this reminder that we're alive and together despite all the pain and loss.
I make quick work of my jeans, shoving them down just enough to free myself. Then I shove her underwear aside and push inside her. Both of us gasp at the sensation. There's no teasing this time, no slow build-up. Just the desperate drive to be as close as possible, to lose ourselves in each other.
After, when we're both breathing hard and my forehead is pressed against hers, she laughs—a small, breathless sound that makes my heart stumble.
"We really are going to be late now," she says, pushing playfully at my shoulder.
I roll off her, tucking myself back into my jeans. "Worth it."
This time she does get dressed, and I watch her transform from the vulnerable, naked woman in my bed to the put-together doctor I first met at Sierra Mercy.
Except she's not that same woman anymore.
There's a softness to her now, a quiet sadness around her eyes that wasn't there before.
But there's something else too, a steadiness, a certainty when she looks at me that makes my chest tight.
We finally leave the cabin, hand in hand, following the dirt path toward the main house. The morning has warmed slightly, but there's still a crispness to the air that's distinctly Montana.
"Over there is where Bradley broke his arm jumping off the roof," I tell her, pointing to a small outbuilding. "He was trying to prove he could fly if he just believed hard enough."
"Did you push him?" she asks, squeezing my hand.
"Absolutely not. I was the responsible one holding the umbrella he was using as a parachute."
Bright and unexpected, her laughter carries across the yard.
"And that's the barn where I hid all my medical textbooks," I continue, nodding toward the old structure in the distance. "Dad thought I was out there mucking stalls. Actually spent most of my time studying anatomy instead of cleaning up horse shit."
"Rebel," she teases, bumping her shoulder against my arm.
As we approach the main house, my steps slow. The farmhouse looms before us, familiar and foreign all at once. Light spills from the windows, and I can hear the murmur of voices inside, smell bacon and coffee in the air.
Suddenly unsure, my hand pauses on the doorframe. Despite the progress I've made with my family over the past few months—coming back in small doses when Dad got sick—I still feel like an outsider. The prodigal son who left without saying goodbye, who returns only when it's convenient.
Mia's hand tightens around mine. When I look down at her, her eyes are soft with understanding.
"Hey," she says quietly. "You okay?"
I swallow hard, surprised by the sudden tightness in my throat. "Yeah. Just... it's complicated."
Her thumb traces circles on the back of my hand. "Families usually are."
She doesn't push, doesn't offer platitudes about how they must be happy to see me. She just stands there beside me, offering silent support with her touch.
"Ready?" she asks after a moment.
I take a deep breath, then nod, grateful beyond words for this woman who sees my broken places and doesn't try to fix them—just holds them carefully, like they're worth protecting too.
"Ready," I say, and push open the door.
The smell hits me first; coffee, bacon, and something sweet baking in the oven. Then the voices, a familiar cadence of conversation that stops abruptly as we step through the doorway. Five pairs of eyes turn toward us, and I feel Mia's hand tighten around mine.
My father sits at the head of the table like always, a newspaper folded beside his plate, reading glasses perched low on his nose.
Bradley's at his right, looking more like Dad every time I see him.
Beside him sits Hailey, her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun.
I met her briefly when Dad had his heart scare.
Across from them is Sawyer, who's worked the ranch since we were teenagers, and a young guy I recognize as Beckett, one of the newer hands.
I'm still taking it all in when Bradley rises from his chair, pushing it back with a scrape against the hardwood floor. His expression is unreadable as he crosses the room with those long, purposeful strides that used to make me think he was perpetually pissed off.
My shoulders tense reflexively. Despite our tentative peace these past few months, there's still a part of me waiting for the hostility, the disappointment, the reminder that I left when he stayed.
But instead of the grudging handshake I've grown accustomed to, Bradley pulls me into a genuine hug, the kind we used to share before I became the family disappointment. The unexpectedness of it makes my throat tight.
"Good to see you, brother," he says, voice gruff against my ear.
A knot loosens inside my chest. "You too."
When he steps back, there's a smile on his face I haven't seen directed at me in years. "Bout time you brought someone home."
I clear my throat, suddenly aware of Mia beside me, watching this rare moment of brotherly affection. "Everyone, this is Dr. Mia Phillips," I say. "We work together at Sierra Mercy."
"Work, huh?" Sawyer grins, leaning back in his chair with that same shit-eating smirk he's had since we were kids stealing beers from the kitchen. "That what they're calling it these days?"
"Ignore him," Hailey says, rolling her eyes. She stands and extends a hand to Mia. "It's nice to meet you. Coffee? You look like you could use some."
"Yes, please," Mia says with such genuine relief that everyone laughs.
And just like that, the tension breaks. Dad gestures to the empty chairs across from Bradley and Hailey. "Sit down before Ruthie comes in and scolds us all for letting her breakfast get cold."
Mia slips into the chair beside me, her knee bumping against mine under the table. I reach for the coffee pot before Hailey can, pouring a cup for Mia and then myself. Our fingers brush when I hand her the mug, and the simple contact sends a current of electricity up my arm.
"Thanks," she murmurs, eyes meeting mine over the rim.
Ruthie bustles in from the kitchen with a platter of pancakes, her face lighting up when she sees us at the table. "Oh good, you made it. I was about to send out a search party."
"Sorry," I say, not feeling sorry at all. "We got... distracted."
"I bet you did," Sawyer mutters into his coffee, earning himself a swift kick under the table from someone.
Breakfast settles into a rhythm of passed platters and comfortable conversation. Mia piles her plate with pancakes and bacon. It's the most I've seen her eat in the past two days, and something in me unclenches at the sight of her digging in with obvious enjoyment.
"Remember when Sebastian thought he'd impress Jennifer Scott by riding Thunder?" Dad suddenly says, setting down his fork. "How old were you? Fourteen?"
I groan. "Dad, no one wants to hear—"
"Thunder?" Mia asks, turning those curious green eyes on me. "Please tell me Thunder was a pony. A very small, gentle pony."
"Meanest stallion we ever owned," Bradley supplies helpfully. "Bucked off even the most experienced riders."
"And Seb, trying to show off for this girl from town, climbs right on," Dad continues, animatedly. "Didn't even make it out of the paddock before that horse sent him flying."
Mia's laughter is bright and uninhibited. "What happened next?"
"Landed ass-first in a mud puddle," I admit, unable to keep from smiling at the memory despite my embarrassment. "Right in front of Jennifer and all her friends."
"Don't forget the part where your pants split," Bradley adds, and everyone laughs.
I should be mortified, but all I can focus on is Mia's face—how it's lit up with genuine amusement, how she's leaning forward with her chin propped on her hand, completely absorbed in these stories from my past. There's no trace of the broken woman I held through tears yesterday.
This version of Mia, laughing at my teenage humiliations, fits seamlessly with my family in a way I never expected.
"What about the time Sebastian decided to perform surgery on Bradley's teddy bear?" Dad asks, reaching for the coffee pot. "What was that bear's name?"
"Bart," Bradley says. "And it wasn't surgery, it was a damn autopsy. Complete with little labels made of paper."
Mia turns to me, eyebrows raised. "How old were you?"
"Seven," I admit. "Already knew I wanted to be a doctor."
"He stuffed that bear with fresh cotton and sewed it back up," Dad adds. "Even made a little surgical mask out of Ruthie’s dish towel."
Throughout the meal, I watch Mia more than I take part in conversation.
The way she laughs with her whole body when Sawyer tells her about the time Bradley and I got stuck on the roof during a thunderstorm.
How she leans in when Hailey starts talking about moving to Montana.
The gentle way she thanks Ruthie for the food, earning herself an approving nod from the woman who's been more mother to us than housekeeper.
Mia catches me staring and raises an eyebrow. "What?"
"Nothing," I say, but it's everything.
Watching her here, surrounded by the pieces of my past that I've kept separate from my life in the city, I'm struck by an absolute certainty that steals my breath.
This woman—brilliant, fierce, compassionate Mia with her wild curls and wilder heart—is it for me. She's my person. My future. My forever.
The realization should terrify me. Instead, it settles in my chest like the most natural thing in the world, as inevitable as sunrise over the Montana mountains. As if my heart has just been waiting for her to show up and claim the space that's always been hers.
"Your face is doing something weird," she whispers, leaning in close. "You okay?"
I reach under the table, find her hand, and thread our fingers together. "Never better," I tell her, and for the first time in longer than I can remember, it's the absolute truth.