Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
SASHA
Late Friday afternoon, I’m locking up the shop for the day when my phone buzzes with a text.
Adrenaline pumps through me at Sebastian’s name on the screen, heating my face and ears even though it’s bitingly cold.
I’m embarrassed to admit, but ever since our mistletoe kiss three days ago I’ve been a pulse-fluttering disaster, wondering if this is the moment we’ll finally talk about the kiss, and if we even need to.
Part of me wants to talk about it though—pick his brain for answers to the questions I’m not sure I’m ready to ask.
What does this mean?
When is a kiss just a kiss?
Did you feel it too?
I shake off those thoughts and swipe at my screen.
Sebastian
Come to the manor tonight. Park at the old service entrance.
Sasha
???
Sebastian
Why do you always send question marks instead of asking a question?
Sasha
It gets the point across quicker, IMO.
But just for you… What’s going on? Did we have plans tonight?
Sebastian
No but you do now.
Dress warm. No jeans though. Trust me.
Also, before you make a joke, I don’t mean wear nothing, I just mean wear something other than jeans. FML.
I grin because he’s right. The temptation to tease him had been there. It should be unsettling how Sebastian anticipates my jokes and moves, the way you do when you really know a person.
With anyone else I’d be anxious now, worried I was so predictable—and that usually means boring, which is my biggest fear—but to my surprise it feels kind of nice. It’s comforting to be so seen by another person, even if that person is Sebastian King.
The annoyance I once felt about him seems so far away now. I can barely make out the shape of it, blurred beyond all recognition.
My screen turns black while I debate what to reply. To be honest, my evening plans consisted of brainstorming some save-the-shop ideas over a bottle of wine, followed by some quality, much-needed time with my rose vibrator before an early night. But it’s not as if I can’t do all those things tomorrow.
Sasha
I’ll be there.
Sebastian
I’ll be waiting.
After a quick stop home to freshen up, throw on another base layer, and change into a pair of fleece-lined leggings, I make the ten-minute drive to Walmsley Manor.
The narrow lane is unexpectedly busy, and I’m confused why until I drive through the gates and discover the driveway lined with parked cars. Ahead, there’s a couple of people in yellow Hi-Vis vests directing traffic and guests on foot, and I wait until they’re not looking before speeding off to the old service entrance.
A fluttery sensation kicks up inside me when I spot Sebastian in the courtyard. Dressed in a dark tracksuit and his favourite padded bodywarmer, he’s propped on a frost-dusted wall, long legs outstretched and crossed at the ankle. Arms folded. Staring at me. We hadn’t settled on a time, just that I would be here at some point, and the idea of him waiting for me to arrive is incredibly sweet.
It’s even sweeter when he marches over to open my car door and offers me his hand to help me out.
There’s nothing fake about my smile tonight. “Hi.”
“Hey.”
Sebastian holds my gaze intently, pulling me closer so he can slam the door closed. His thumb brushes back and forth over my knuckles, and it’s such a gentle caress I’m not sure he’s aware he’s doing it.
My heart does though.
“So, uh, what’s going on here?” I ask, trying to distract myself from the intensity of this man. “The place is packed.”
“It’s our first night of ice skating,” he says.
Oh. Of course.
“Does that mean you’re taking me ice skating?”
“No, I thought you could just stare at the ice while everyone else does.”
“You jest, but that seems a lot safer to me.”
“Come on,” he says with a grin, and I could get used to that cheeky glint in his eye if I’m not careful. “You’re gonna love it.”
We exchange our shoes for skates at a log cabin set up near the entrance, its roof covered in fake snow. Sebastian finishes tying his laces, double-checks mine, then offers me his hands again. Considering I’ve never skated in my life and sometimes fall over my own trousers, I accept his gentlemanly offer and let him pull me to standing. It’s the weirdest sensation lifted off the ground by a single sharp blade, but not as difficult as I imagined as we plod along to the ice.
So far so good.
The sky is pure black and speckled with stars, and every window at the back of the manor is draped with flashing lights that took me almost two days to install.
Worth it.
The rink is lit up with coloured lights of red, gold and green, and framed with Perspex boards lined with gold tinsel. The Christmas tree twinkles with hundreds of multicoloured lights, a festive backdrop to the skaters below. It’s the start of the weekend and I have a brief, unexplained rush of panic at how busy it is.
“Why are we doing this again?” I ask.
“Because this is a Christmas activity, remember? We haven’t completed our mission to make you festive yet.”
Oh. That.
“Right. Of course. But I’m gonna blame you if I fall on my ass and then someone slices my finger off with their skates because I couldn’t get off the ice fast enough.”
Sebastian blinks at me.
“Sorry that was one of my intrusive thoughts. I didn’t realise I had intrusive thoughts about ice skating until now.” I wince at him, apologetic. “Did I ruin it?”
He stares long enough it starts to edge into awkward territory, and I think I’ve weirded him out completely until his face slowly breaks with one of the biggest smiles I’ve ever seen, wrinkling the skin around his eyes.
I really love those little lines, the years of laughter etched into his skin.
“Don’t worry, Sasha. I’ve got you.”
Maybe he does.
The first step on the ice sends flutters and tingles along the soles of my feet like I’m about to slip and fall. I wobble and laugh and wobble again, Sebastian holding my hands as he skates backwards in front of me, guiding me along and keeping me balanced. We take it slow while I acclimate, a little unsteady but more sure with every lap.
“You ready for me to let go?” Sebastian asks.
“Let’s give it a shot. Don’t laugh at me if I fall. Laugh with me. And then, you know, help me up.”
He grins, seeming captivated, like he doesn’t want to look away, and I don’t want him to either. It’s surprising how much.
“I can do that,” he says.
The first glide after he lets go is terrifying, but soon I’m skating on my own. It seems so silly to feel a sense of accomplishment over something so minor as not falling flat on my face, but I laugh in disbelief anyway. My joy is seemingly as contagious as a yawn, and Sebastian matches my glee with laughs of his own, our breaths curling into the bitter air like wisps of smoke.
“Where’s Charlotte?” I ask on our third hands-free lap around the rink. “I didn’t think she’d miss this. I half expected her to be waving at me from the ice.”
“She was supposed to be here. It’s a bit of a tradition for us to be the first ones on the ice. But she’s at a sleepover with her friends.”
Sebastian scowls at this, though I’m not sure he’s aware he’s doing it.
“She’s doing that a lot, huh? Abandoning you for her friends.”
“I’m not abandoned. She did not abandon me.”
“Okay, maybe that was the wrong word. She dumped you. Better?”
“Smart ass,” he grumbles.
My laughter stops the second the motion throws me off balance. “You shouldn’t take it to heart, you know. Charlotte’s thirteen. It’s that awkward age where you’re not a little kid anymore but you’re not an adult either and you feel like you’re missing out if you’re not with your friends all the time. Then there’s puberty and horrible cliques at school who make you feel like shit, and homework, and ugh. Being thirteen is awful.”
“Are we still talking about Charlie?” Sebastian teases.
“Shut up. Don’t you remember what it was like to be thirteen?”
He heaves a sigh. “Feels like forever ago.”
“What I’m trying to say is don’t be too sad that she’s growing up. Be happy that she’s happy. That she has friends and she’s having experiences, and she’s not sitting in her room friendless and alone because she’s bullied at school.”
Sebastian softens at that. “You may have a point. But it’s hard. I feel like she was only five yesterday.”
I don’t have kids so I can’t relate, but I do understand the feeling of missing someone, of life flashing by so fast it feels like you’ve blinked and missed it.
“Come on.” I tug on his sleeve. “One more lap and then I want some of that hot chocolate they’re selling over there. I saw they do one with Baileys too.”
“Deal.”
Halfway around the rink, something—someone—slams into me. The world tilts. I screech, my arms flying out to the sides on instinct. In the distance, someone laughs. My pulse races and my stomach drops, but Sebastian lunges for me, righting my balance so I don’t tumble.
“Oh my god, thank…” Words fade as I catch the panicked look on his face, and the way he’s somehow balancing awkwardly on one leg, not letting the other skate touch the ice. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I…” Sebastian grimaces. “It’s my knee. Shit.”
Oh no. This is bad.
“Can you put your weight on it?”
Gingerly, he places his foot back on the ice. He takes the weight, but winces and swears under his breath. His skin is ashen now too, like he’s breaking out into a cold sweat.
“Yes, but it hurts.”
I glance around, unsure what to do or how to help. I’m terrible in a crisis.
“Um, let’s get you off the ice first and out of these skates. Here, lean on me.”
“Yeah, that’s not happening.”
“Sebastian. Come on. I’m not going to break. Please let me help you.”
He nods at my insistence, then throws one giant arm around my shoulder. I grip his waist, fisting his coat to anchor myself, but I can tell he’s barely resting against me.
“Seriously, Sebastian. If you don’t lean on me properly I’ll kick you in the other knee.”
“You’d make a great nurse, you know.”
I throw him a look that shows I mean business, and he acquiesces with a sigh.
“Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I have to hold in a squeak as Sebastian does what he’s told and leans more heavily against me. There will be no I told you so’s here. No sir.
With the number of steps dotted around the grounds, it’s a bit of an awkward struggle to get Sebastian inside, but eventually we get him settled on the sofa, his leg stretched out on the coffee table and propped on a cushion.
“Ice packs are in the bottom freezer,” he tells me.
When I return from the kitchen, Sebastian is gently pressing points on and around his knee, testing to see where it hurts. It doesn’t look swollen, but I guess we won’t know the extent of things until tomorrow.
“You look worried,” I say. “Is it bad?”
“I’d be worried if I couldn’t put my weight on it. I think I just aggravated it. Doesn’t help that it’s been a while since I’ve had a sports massage, or done any PT. Everything’s tightened up, which then throws off the kinetic chain.”
“I don’t know what a kinetic chain is but it sounds bad.”
Sebastian barks a laugh, and the tension seems to drain from his shoulders. He leans back into the sofa cushions and closes his eyes.
I should probably leave him to rest, but instead I curl up on the seat beside him. He has a bit more colour now that the initial panic is over, but part of me is desperate to comfort him somehow. He really did look like he was replaying some old trauma out there, understandably.
It takes a few seconds to build the courage, and then I brush that one fluffy curl away from his forehead and let the caress slide down the side of his face and along his sturdy jaw.
I wonder if it’s the sparks making his eyes pop open and his gaze clash with mine.
We don’t say a word while we sit there staring at each other, and I repeat the soothing caress a few more times until his eyelids flutter.
I think I want to kiss him again.
“Can I ask you something?” I say eventually.
“Of course.”
“What happened to your knee with your original injury?” He tenses slightly, and I hasten to add, “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”
“No, it’s okay. Unfortunately, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I turned awkwardly just as someone tackled me and my knee went one way and my foot went the other and something snapped. At least, that’s what it felt like. Turns out I tore all three cruciate ligaments and my hamstring. It was a mess.”
“Oh my god.” I can’t even imagine it. “That sounds excruciating.”
“It was. There’s pictures of me from that day on the internet and I’m crying, not because I was in pain but because I knew my career was over. I just knew.”
I reach for Sebastian’s hand. He jolts a little in surprise, but soon gives in to the natural way our fingers slot together.
“I’m sorry. That must’ve been devastating.”
He nods, staring at our joined hands resting on the cushion between us. “I was in such a bad place afterwards. I had to keep telling myself that it could’ve been worse. I could’ve had a catastrophic head injury or permanent nerve damage. But it was hard in those early days. You go from being the fittest and strongest you’ve ever been to relying on others to do simple tasks. I struggled mentally as much as physically. Perhaps even more so now that I have time and distance from it all.”
“I’m so sorry. I feel like it’s all my fault. Not that,” I say, shaking my head at his confusion. “I meant tonight. You wouldn’t have been ice skating if not for me. This mission to find my Christmas spirit now has casualties.”
“That’s not true. I would’ve been out there with Charlie if not you. I can’t live my life around the fear and possibility of aggravating an old injury. I don’t want to be like that. I’m just sorry the night ended like this.”
“Me too.”
“Besides, it wasn’t all bad. I had fun.”
“Me too actually.”
“Don’t sound so surprised. I can be fun.”
“You’re a moody sod usually.”
“It’s called being multifaceted, Sasha.”
We laugh, and it’s only when the sound fades I realise we’re still holding hands.