Chapter 7
Sebastian
Consciousness hit me like a truck—suddenly and all at once—followed by a breath that sounded too close to a sob. I shot upright, bracing on my elbows as I scanned the room.
Everything was soaked in burnt orange and blood-red shadows, lit only by the slice of moonlight cutting across the floor. Something loomed in the corner—too tall, too broad to be Dale.
My mind went straight to Mattie.
Did Mason wake up?
Did she let her in?
... Did she even need to?
I scrambled back a few inches and patted blindly at the nightstand for my glasses. Even with them on, the world wasn’t fully in focus, which made it hard to breathe.
I grabbed my phone and flicked on the flashlight. The beam shook with the tremble in my hand as I swept it across the corner.
Just a pile of folded clothes in the rocking chair. Nothing else.
I exhaled slowly, then killed the light and fell back into the mattress. Only then did I notice the damp sheets clinging to my skin, again.
For the hundredth fucking time.
I groaned and sat up fully. Cameron snored beside me, oblivious.
Lucky bastard.
I stayed there for a moment, arms wrapped around my knees, debating whether I wanted to try sleeping again or get up and give in to the ache crawling under my skin.
Nicotine won the argument.
I swung my legs off the bed and grabbed the half-empty pack of cigarettes from the drawer. The weight told me I'd stashed a lighter in there too. I shoved both in the pocket of my basketball shorts and stumbled into the hall.
The warm glow from the living room spilled down the hallway, and I made a mental note to turn off the lights after I smoked—Until I heard it.
The soft sound of a TV playing some garbage reality show… and voices.
My steps slowed.
Was I still dreaming?
I brought a cigarette to my lips and struck the lighter twice. The second time, a blue flame bloomed. I waved my fingers through it, yanking them back when it stung.
Nope. That hurt. I was awake.
I stuffed the pack back into my pocket and followed the sound, bracing for an intruder, or maybe just another cult hallucination.
I wasn’t prepared to find Mason and Sophia, curled together on the couch like matching cats, their eyes glued to the screen.
Between them sat a half-eaten strawberry shortcake—the round kind with stacked sponge layers, whipped cream, and a sea of lacquered strawberries on top.
It looked like it came from the vegan bakery a town over.
I frowned, not because they were up late, but because we had that cake last week. It was so good it hadn’t lasted a full day in the house, which meant this one had been bought later and hidden.
Traitors.
I didn’t say a word, just stared until Sophia looked over her shoulder at me, her thumb in her mouth as she sucked a bit of cream from it.
“Well, well, well,” she sang, “looks like we have a spy.”
Mason turned to look too.
She looked better than earlier, but something still wasn’t right. Not pale, not sick, just... not Mason. The light behind her eyes had dimmed. Or maybe that was just me.
“I’m not a spy,” I said, pulling the cigarette from my mouth and tucking it back into the pack. “I just couldn’t sleep. Why are you up?”
Late-night hours usually belonged to Mason and me. It was strange for Sophia to interrupt us.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she shrugged.
The pink spaghetti strap on her pajama top slipped off her shoulder like a sled racing downhill. My eyes followed it. Sophia scared the shit out of me…but she was definitely nice to look at.
“Want to sit with us?” Mason asked.
“Mmm. Depends.” I crossed my arms and nodded toward the cake. “Can I share?”
Sophia sucked on her spoon, thinking it over.
“Just don’t tell the other boys.”
I smiled and sank into the small space behind Mason. We were so close she might as well have been in my lap—which was exactly how I liked it.
Without a word, she handed me her spoon. I was ready to dig in... until I remembered I had my retainer in.
Smoking in it was one thing. Trapping whipped cream between the plastic and my molars? No, thanks.
That meant I had to do the least sexy thing imaginable in front of my girlfriend and her girlfriend.
Goddammit.
“Hey, what’s that?” I asked, pointing at the TV.
Obvious distraction play, but it worked. Both girls turned to look.
I used the moment to fish my retainers out of my mouth. A strand of saliva stuck between the trays and my lips, but I wiped it away fast and slid them into my pocket like the dirty secret they were.
Crisis averted.
I kissed Mason’s cheek, wrapped my arm around her waist, and stole a beautiful chunk of cake.
Mason squeaked at the sudden affection but leaned into me, and I felt the tension in her melt a little. Sophia watched us out of the corner of her eye.
“You guys are cute,” she said.
My cheeks warmed. I pretended it didn’t get to me. I didn’t need validation. I didn’t care if people thought Mason and I looked like a couple.
Nope. Not me. Totally unbothered.
“I like Sebastian,” Mason said suddenly, her voice laced with something warm and sleepy. Her accent was thicker than usual. “He feels like a normal boyfriend.”
“What’s a normal boyfriend?” Sophia snorted before I could.
Mason blinked at us like we were the weird ones for asking. I focused on my bite of cake.
It was just as perfect as I remembered—sweet, soft, cloud-like. Probably why they hid this one. The last one barely survived a full afternoon thanks to me, Lucian, and Cameron.
Mason answered eventually. “Like the ones people my age have.”
“You mean the ones who don’t have a husband, three kids, and a boyfriend old enough to be their dad?” Sophia teased, nudging Mason with her foot.
Mason nodded anyway.
“Cameron doesn’t like when we say he’s old enough to be my dad. Or Sebastian’s. It makes him feel like we don’t respect his morals.”
I laughed out loud. Oh, I was bringing that up the next time Cameron got preachy.
“What’s so funny?” Mason asked, looking back at me.
I opened my mouth to answer, but the TV cut to a commercial.
A baby’s giggle echoed through the room.
We all looked at the screen. A tot in a diaper scooted across the floor, laughing.
It reminded me of Rosie. She had no interest in crawling, so that was how she moved now. It also reminded me of how much I missed her, although she was asleep just one room over.
I glanced at Mason’s flat stomach, and a strange ache settled in my chest.
I missed feeling Rosie kick. Missed watching Mason grow with her. Back then, I was too deep in my obsessive, toxic ruminations to fully appreciate it. Now? I thought I might enjoy seeing her pregnant again.
But Dale was still out there.
He haunted every fucking corner of my mind. Even if I packed our things and took Mason, Cameron, and the kids back to Portland, he’d find us. He’d told me as much. Dale was no threat to me on his own, but… I couldn’t take on all the Sons of Christ. Not alone.
And if I left, everyone I loved would be targeted. Though I wasn’t the type to believe in divine punishment, this predicament felt like karmic payback for all the shitty things I’d done in my life.
“Aww, I think Sebby wants another baby,” Sophia cooed, reaching across Mason to pinch my cheek.
My blood went cold. I leaned away and stared at the screen.
“Three kids are enough, thanks,” I muttered. It didn’t even sound convincing.
“Plus, I don’t want to be pregnant right now!” Mason added quickly. “Lucian and I have our wedding in eighteen months, and Rosie isn’t even crawling yet.”
I snapped my fingers and pointed at her in agreement.
Case closed.
But Sophia wasn’t done.
“Oh, come on. Picture it—Mason with a baby on her hip and a big ol’ belly. Isn’t that, like, super cute?”
God help me, she was right.
My brain went rogue: Mason, visibly pregnant, holding hands with a toddler, Rosie balanced on her hip like it was the most natural thing in the world.
My heart did a weird flip.
... And my cock twitched.
Could elation cause erections? Apparently.
I shifted, adjusting myself quickly to hide it.
The girls started to bicker, but I didn’t hear it. Not really. Instead, my mind was too busy with fantasy. A life I’d never had. One I hadn’t realized I ached for until this moment.
Mason barefoot in the kitchen. Hair pulled back in a messy knot. Rosie tugging on the hem of her shirt. A baby we hadn’t met yet balanced on her hip, sucking on two fingers and drooling on her shoulder.
Cameron would be in the doorway, arms crossed, lecturing her to sit down, and rest, and Mason would stick her tongue out and ignore him. Maybe the oven would be on. Maybe the kitchen would smell like sugar and vanilla, and Mason and Rosie would wait impatiently for something to cool.
I’d probably sneak up behind her, slip my hand under her shirt, rest my palm on the swell of her belly, and I’d ask something stupid.
How are you feeling?
Just to hear her say, better now.
The ache spread across my chest like a bruise.
How the fuck had I gone from a contract killer to this?
I didn’t notice Mason had gotten up, nor did I notice her collecting the almost-empty tray and carrying it toward the kitchen. Not until I heard her trip.
It wasn’t loud, just a soft, surprised gasp and the dull clunk of the plastic lid hitting the floor.
I snapped back to reality in time to see Mason stumbling over one of Jasper’s many toy dinosaurs, the ones he always swore he’d pick up and never did.
She wobbled once more, and the last soggy wedge of cake slid off the cardboard base before landing directly on my bare stomach.
Cold.
Sticky.
Wet.
My lungs locked.
Whipped cream smeared down my abs. Glazed strawberries clung to the sharp line above my hip. The sponge crumbled against my skin as sugar smeared across my waistband.
I sucked in a sharp breath and held it, trying not to flinch.
“Oh my God, Seb, I’m so sorry.” Mason snatched the plastic lid off the floor and scooped what she could off of me.