Chapter 39
Sebastian
Did I love my kids? Undoubtedly, a million times over, yes. I would die for Jasper, Juniper, and Rosemary. I would kill for them too, although that particular line felt like it meant less coming from me. But fuck did they drive me crazy.
We spent three fucking hours at the trampoline park, and I was the only one fit enough to keep up with the kids, you know because Lucian claimed he was still in withdrawal hell–which seemed like an excuse to me–and Cameron was fat and old.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved my sexy, ancient, dad bod having man. But, he jumped for half an hour before he was red and dripping with sweat. And, Lucian was a pale, shaky mess.
Meanwhile, the twins were fucking feral.
So, Lucian stood on the sidelines and Cameron played in the ballpit while I climbed walls, and played dodgeball, and watched the kids do half rehearsed backflips that ended with their face smashed into the trampoline before they shot up and screamed DID YOU SEE THAT UNCLE BASH????
I always saw it, and I always said good job with a level of fake enthusiasm reserved for watching children do the same thing over, and over and over again.
By the time we hit the three hour mark, my shirt was glued to my back, my bad leg protested every movement, and the children were all red faced and sticky with sweat.
My first instinct was to drop them off at home, hand them off to their mothers and say deal with the mess you created, then I remembered Mason was pregnant.
And exhausted.
And innocent in this unwilling field trip.
So, instead of bringing a small heard of wild animals home, I suggested we take the munchkins for dinner.
Nothing major, just something to fill their stomachs and help satisfy one of their needs so they didn’t burst into tears or fight on the car ride home.
We ended up at a diner just up the road from my house and all slid ourselves into one booth.
Lucian cornered Jasper and Juniper on one side, Cameron and I sat on the other, and Rosie got a high chair all to herself. And, as my brother fussed over the two and Cameron tended to Rosie, a smile crept onto my face.
“What are you so happy about?” Lucian asked as he busied himself with watering down the apple juice both twins swore they needed.
“It’s nothing, it’s just–” My smile widened. “I’m going to have one soon.”
Sure, all three kids were mine, only the law disagreed, but it was that level of uncertainty that made me uneasy.
If Lucian and Cameron so decided, they could take their kids and I would have absolutely no ground to fight it on.
But, with my own flesh and blood baby, no one could ever argue that I wasn’t his or her father.
I really loved being a dad, which shocked literally everyone who’d ever known me. And the idea that I was having a baby thrilled me.
I cradled my chin and smiled. Cameron always wanted four, two boys, two girls, and since I wanted forever with him, obviously, I wanted a boy.
But, deep deep deep down I wanted a little girl. They were just so stinking cute.
“Well, I mean,” Lucian shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. “I uh–it could be mine. And if Mason and I are married, legally I’ll go on the certificate.”
Cameron slanted Lucian a look that said you better fucking not be the dad, and I took a drink of my beer. If our appetizers had been here, I would’ve stuffed my face just to keep my mouth busy.
Because, no one at this table other than me knew my dad with Mason this morning concluded with a visit to Leona. And not one just because Mason needed a little motherly love. She'd needed a lawyer.
Mason wasn’t happy in her marriage. She wasn’t loved. Not the way she deserved to be. And when she sat across from my sister’s desk this morning, hands folded over the swell of her stomach, voice shaking but certain, she said the words I’d been waiting months to hear.
I need a divorce.
And I should’ve been the responsible one, right?
The good brother, and polycule member who went above and beyond to keep everything together, and maybe suggested she really think this over.
But that wasn’t in me. Not when I’d seen the way she flinched when Lucian touched her, or how her smile never quite reached her eyes anymore.
Lucian didn’t deserve her. And I wasn’t sure he ever had, but I’d hoped she’d never be the one to see it.
My mind kept spinning as I inadvertently drained my entire pale ale. My eyes widened as I tipped the bottle from side to side, making sure it was actually gone.
“You thirsty?” Cameron asked.
I covered my mouth and stifled a very unsexy burp.
“I, uh, yeah.” Was it improper to get drunk at five pm?
Would anyone judge me if I accidentally got plastered at a family dinner? And if anyone did judge me, could I blame it on being young? The frontal lobe didn’t fully develop until age twenty five, so I had a year left to do stupid shit.
With that in mind, when our waitress dropped off our basket of fried green tomatoes and calamari rings, I asked for another beer.
Lucian said something snide about me regretting that in about an hour, and the second the kids looked away I flipped him off. You know, brotherly love.
“Real mature,” he mumbled, grabbing a thick slice of tomato.
“Thanks,” I said, mouth intentionally full of food.
After decades of being forced to be older than I was, it was nice to act my age.
Cameron smirked as he tore calamari rings into teeny-tiny bits for Rosie, who undid all his work but shoving fistfuls in her mouth all at once.
The waitress brought my second beer and an apology about our actual food taking longer than expected.
But, I didn’t mind, because despite the fact I was forced to sit with my brother, this moment was perfect.
At least–it was until it wasn’t.
The hair on the back of my neck prickled far before I had concrete evidence anything was wrong. My head whipped around, instinctively searching for danger, and then, I saw him.
Alex Hensle stood in the far corner, arm wrapped around what appeared to be a barely legal man.
For a second, my brain refused to believe it.
Alex Hensle.
My saliva thickened and without thinking, I shifted closer to Cam. Cameron noticed immediately, of course he did. He always fucking noticed everything.
Cam’s hand brushed my knee under the table, “What’s wrong?”
His whisper warmed my ear, but that did little to dispel the chill clawing its way up my spine.
Alex looked exactly as I remembered him.
Perfectly quaffed dark hair, well maintained beard, expensive clothing, and that razor-sharp smile. The kind everyone else always mistook for charming, but I knew was the trademark of a predator.
My stomach twisted into knots, but it wasn’t because of him. Instead, the boy beside him was my undoing.
He couldn’t have been older than eighteen. He was baby faced, and scrawny, with unruly ash-colored hair. A ratty hoodie swallowed his narrow shoulders, and the sleeves were rolled up just enough to reveal yellowed bruises along his wrists, finger shaped ones at that.
“I–I need to go to the car,” I whispered, feeling like I was going to vomit or pass out.
And, while I was sure someone would ask about this later, right now I just didn’t have the mental energy to deal with my rapist. Especially when he courted around what looked to be a mirror image of my much younger self.
The ride home was tense, mostly because Cameron wanted to know what was wrong and I couldn’t bring myself to tell him.
I was in a healthy relationship. I was loved. Alex shouldn’t have had any pull on me anymore—but he did.
Every word he’d ever said to me still itched under my skin like glass dust.
“You’re lucky anyone loves you, let alone me.”
“After everything I’ve done for you, the least you can do is put out.”
“Do you think anyone else is fucked up enough to love you? I’m the best you’ll ever get.
” Alex never loved me, he just saw a vulnerable boy he could manipulate into being what he wanted.
He was likely doing the same for the blonde boy at the diner, and should’ve stood up for him.
I should’ve said something, done something, anything to stop Alex from doing to him what he’d done to me.
But I didn’t. Because deep down, I was still a coward.
By the time we pulled into the driveway, the house lights glowing soft and golden against the dusk, I already knew what I needed. Not food, not conversation—silence.
I mumbled something to Cameron about needing to find something in my office. And, before anyone could argue, I bolted.
The soles of the sneakers I’d neglected to remove thunder against my wooden floors with frantic, uncharacteristically heavy steps as I moved with purpose until reaching my destination.
The knob beneath my hand was just cool enough to ground me, to stop the nervous trembling infesting my system.
I pushed it open, already mentally rehearsing what I’d say later.
You know because sorry, I needed to play with legos to hide from my emotions—but look how cool this lighthouse is, wouldn’t cut it.
But, the moment I stepped inside, my heart fell directly out of my asshole and onto the floor.
The lights were on, and I wasn’t alone.
Mason sat at my desk, dressed in one of my old hoodies, wet hair sticking up in every direction, heat flushing her cheeks. In front of her was an opened textbook I’d forgotten I owned, a plate of chicken nuggets with ketchup, and a fork.
Her mismatched attention snared me in place, and I think my sudden appearance did the same for her.
“I can explain,” she mumbled, pushing the plate away as if I’d caught her eating a bowl of crack.
Clearing my throat, I stepped forward before laying back against the door to seal it. Slowly I started toward her and stole one of her nuggets. I swiped it though the remnants of her ketchup and popped it in my mouth.
There was a slight burn on my tongue, and while I knew my spice tolerance was abysmal, ketchup wasn’t spicy.