Chapter 63 Sebastian
SEBASTIAN
I’m watching Ivy sleep, her breathing even, cheeks slightly flushed. Mr. Pickles is stationed on her chest like a furry landmine, daring the universe to try to hurt her again. Drew is downstairs, the sounds of the TV filtering upstairs.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out, a rush of guilt flowing through me when I see the name. The person I should’ve called hours ago. Ivy’s dad.
My jaw tightens. I didn’t forget because I don’t care. I forgot because of the chaos—his daughter was injured, my brother was shaking, and a gunshot still rang in my ears.
It doesn’t feel like a good excuse, but it’s the truth.
With one final glance at her sleeping face, I release Ivy’s hand and stand. I quietly exit the bedroom, closing the door behind me. Then I head downstairs and past Drew, who gives me a curious glance as I step onto the back deck.
The fresh air gives me a second to get my head together.
I dial his number. He answers on the first ring. “Sebastian.” No hello. No warmth. Just restraint stretched thin.
“She’s safe,” I say immediately. “She’s home. Sleeping.”
Silence.
“Why am I just hearing this now?”
Because I failed one promise today.
“I should’ve called sooner,” I say. “Things moved fast. She was taken to the hospital. There were statements. I—”
“What the hell happened?” Before I can say a word, he snaps, “You were supposed to call me.”
“Yes,” I say, because anything else would be cowardice. “I was. Everything that happened… it was a bit distracting.”
Another pause, longer this time.
“You’re going to tell me all about it when I get there,” he snaps. “Address.”
It’s a demand. He’s entitled to it. I screwed up.
I give it to him.
The call ends without a goodbye.
I stand there a moment longer, my jaw clenched, then go back inside.
Drew looks up. “Ivy’s dad?”
“Yes.”
He winces. “Want backup?”
I shake my head. “You’ve done enough for one lifetime.”
He snorts weakly. “You sure about that?”
I look at my brother for a few beats before saying, “I told her what happened to our dad.”
Drew sucks in a breath. “And?”
I shrug. “She’s Ivy. Handled it perfectly.”
A smile curls his lips. “I knew she would. Takes a lot to rattle her.”
“Yeah, it does.” My voice is soft. Reverent.
His smile fades. He cocks his head, studying me. “She’s already family, whether you admit it or not.”
I suck in a breath, waiting for the mind-numbing fear to take over. But it doesn’t come.
I meet my brother’s knowing eyes. “She’s nothing like Mom. Or Julia.” His voice is soft.
“I know.”
“That’s where I went wrong. I married someone like Mom.” Drew’s throat works as he stares vacantly out the window.
Then his eyes swing to me. “She’s not like Dad, either.”
I nod, pain coursing through my chest. “No, she’s not.”
“What I’m trying to say is, you’re not repeating the cycle. Not with her. You’re not Mom or Dad. And neither is she.”
I blink rapidly, looking away. I’m usually level-headed. Factual.
But not today.
I approach my brother. “Thanks, Drew. And I know it’s been years since I said it. But... I love you, bro.”
He looks shocked for a beat before he smiles and gets to his feet. “Love ya, big bro.”
Then he hugs me tight, just like when we were kids.
And I hug him back just as tightly.
Before I can say another word, headlights sweep across the front of the house.
I pull away from Drew, bracing myself.
That was fast.
Ivy’s dad doesn’t knock. He just barges inside like the door personally offended him.
He’s tall. Broad. Graying at the temples. The kind of man who built his life on control and competence and does not appreciate being challenged.
His eyes land on me. “You,” he says flatly.
I don’t correct his tone.
“Where is she?”
“Upstairs,” I reply. “She’s resting.”
He starts forward.
Mr. Pickles launches himself down the staircase like a demon summoned by rage and audacity. The hiss that comes out of him is unholy.
When the hell did he get out of the room?
Ivy’s dad stops short. “What the hell is that?”
“Cat,” Drew supplies helpfully.
I hide a smile.
Mr. Pickles plants himself in front of the stairs, tail puffed up, eyes locked on the intruder like he’s already written his obituary.
Ivy’s dad blinks. “Is it… guarding her?”
“Yes, he is,” I say. “Very seriously.”
The cat growls.
Ivy’s dad exhales sharply through his nose. “Move it.”
Drew and I look at one another. Neither of us budge an inch.
Mr. Pickles does not move.
Ivy’s dad takes a step closer.
Like lightning, Mr. Pickles bats his shoe. A clear warning he’s not playing.
Drew coughs. “I wouldn’t test him.”
Ivy’s dad slowly looks back at me. “Is this a joke?”
“No,” I say evenly. “But if you give him a second, he might make it one.”
Something shifts in his expression. Fear? Respect? I’m not sure.
He nods once. “Fine. I’ll wait.”
Mr. Pickles sits there with a look that says he remains unconvinced. His green eyes are locked on Ivy’s dad with a posture I can only describe as attack mode activated.
We’re sitting at the kitchen table when Ivy’s dad finally speaks again. “What happened?”
I glance at Drew before telling him. Not everything. I omit the blood, Ivy being bound to a chair, or how long it took me to find her.
I give him the overview. The stalking and escalation of the previous victim. The gunshot.
Drew sits rigid, staring at his hands.
“And the asshole who took my daughter?” Ivy’s dad asks.
“Silas survived,” I say. “He’s in custody. This time… it’s different.”
“How?”
“His parents bailed him out before,” I continue. “Paid, buried, and redirected the story. But this is his second offense. A documented pattern. He crossed from ‘troubled’ into ‘dangerous.’”
“And no one’s cleaning that up for him?”
“No,” I say firmly. “Not anymore. There’s too much paper. Too many witnesses. And no one is willing to lie for him this time.”
He nods once, satisfied. “Good. But our family has money. So if his family wants a fight, I’ll give it to them.”
I nod. “As will I.”
Her dad nods, then turns his attention to Drew. “Will you be charged?”
Drew stiffens.
“No charges,” I say before he can speak. “Clear self-defense. He fired to stop imminent harm. Two officers, a DA, and a paramedic all agreed.”
Drew finally speaks. “I didn’t think. I just—”
“You saved my daughter,” Ivy’s dad says.
Drew swallows hard. “Thank you.” He shifts in his chair. “I’ve grown fond of your daughter. And I love my big brother.”
We share a look. The bond between us is stronger than it’s ever been.
Upstairs, a floorboard creaks. Our eyes go to the ceiling. Mr. Pickles lets out a warning chirp from the floor, staring at Ivy’s dad.
I stand. “She’s awake.”
“I want to see her,” her dad says immediately.
“I know.”
We move together.
Ivy stands at the top of the stairs. Her hair is a mess, eyes still heavy with sleep.
“What are you doing out of bed?” I’m already taking the steps two at a time. “You’re supposed to be resting. No stairs, Ivy.”
“But—”
Ivy’s dad’s footsteps trail behind me as I lift her in my arms and carry her to my bedroom.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
Mr. Pickles hisses from behind him.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Please call off your attack cat. He’s preventing me from seeing you.”
She giggles as I set her on the bed. Mr. Pickles jumps up and sits on her legs, glaring at her father like he owes him money.
Her dad freezes in the doorway.
“Come in, Dad.” Ivy’s hand rubs over the cat’s head. He purrs and leans into her touch, but his wary eyes are still on her father.
He crosses the room in three strides and pulls her into a careful, shaking embrace.
Mr. Pickles hisses directly into his ear.
“Jesus—”
“He’s protecting me,” Ivy says. “You’re fine.”
The cat remains unconvinced.
Her dad pulls back, hands braced on the mattress. His voice cracks just enough to make my chest tighten. “You scared me.”
“I know,” she says softly. “But I’m okay.”
His eyes flick to me. “You,” he says again.
I meet his gaze.
“She’s safe because of you,” he says. “But don’t think that means I forgive you for forgetting to call.”
I nod. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”
He stares at me for a long beat. “You love her.”
It’s not a question.
“Yes,” I say. “She’s my world.”
He stares at me like he’s inspecting my soul. Finally, he exhales. “Good. Because if you didn’t, I’d have a problem.”
Mr. Pickles growls approvingly.
“Dad,” Ivy huffs, rolling her eyes. “Be reasonable.”
He gives her a look that says never before turning his attention back to me. “By the way, Thomas is safe.”
My eyes widen. “Shit. I feel terrible not asking about him.” My voice lowers. “No wonder he didn’t answer.”
“Thomas.” Ivy looks panicked.
Her dad grabs her hand. “He’s okay, sweetheart. Silas snuck into his cottage and tied him up. The police found him when they were investigating the grounds.”
“I feel like an asshole for not checking it,” I mutter.
Her dad levels me with a look. “You were concerned about my daughter. I heard it in your voice. She’s all you could think about.”
My eyes meet Ivy’s. They’re soft, a look of pure adoration in them. I bet I’m looking at her the same way.
It seems impossible to believe I once feared she’d hex me.
Or that I was terrified of getting involved with her.
Now, I’d give up everything for her. I’d burn the fucking world down to keep her safe.
And judging by the look in her eyes, she’d do the same for me.
Later, when the house is quiet and it’s just Ivy and me in our bed, I hold her in my arms and watch her breathe.
I almost lost her.
I heave out a breath. Silas is no longer a threat. Drew is safe. Her father is pissed at me, but supportive of us as a couple.
The pieces are back where they belong.
Mr. Pickles blinks one eye open, watching me as he lies on her legs.
“Good job,” I murmur.
He purrs. The sound is pure contentment.
And for the first time since this all started, I believe him.