Chapter 21 #2
“Charlie and I came to see you after she and the boys had a fight,” I continue.
“I was so embarrassed because I thought you were the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, and here I was looking like a hot mess.
” I take a breath. “I felt our connection that night. When Charlie bolted, you held my hand all the way back to your apartment. You didn’t even know me, but you knew what I needed.
Because, fuck, I was scared for her.” I give him a squeeze.
“I knew it then. We had something so powerful and instant. I was scared to really explore what it meant. But I’m ready now. ”
“Being with you both…helps,” he says haltingly. “I can’t explain it really, but it feels different. Safe.” Seb rolls onto his back again and looks over at B. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“I know that I’m difficult sometimes. Trusting people is hard for me, let alone being intimate with them. Just…thank you for being patient.” He blows out a sigh. “Navigating my feelings with Fi is difficult, but adding you to the mix? Damn near impossible. But I want to. I’m trying.”
Butterflies twirl in my stomach at his words, and B grins widely. I know he adores Sebastian. I see the way B looks at him.
I shiver, and Seb gives me an uncharacteristically shy smile and tilts his head toward B. “Get back up here with us.”
I climb over Seb and B to the other side of the bed. “So what now?” I ask cautiously. “What are we?”
The guys glance at each other, and B shrugs. “We don’t have to give it a label, but whatever this is, I think we work. And I think we need each other.”
Seb nods absently, and I smile.
Soon, I hear the boys snoring. I think about Seb’s words: I’m broken. And I’m so scared no one will want me.
It takes me a lot longer to fall asleep.
Gray winter daylight flooding the loft wakes me, and I yawn and stretch my arms, one of which knocks into B’s shoulder. He mumbles something unintelligible but doesn’t wake up. I raise myself onto my elbows and look over at Seb and B.
I replay the events of last night as I stare at them, and my throat clogs with emotion. I didn’t think I’d be able to love again—not after what Brantley did. Not after Anna. Certainly not after I lost my mom. I thought I was done.
But watching them sleep, Sebastian’s tattooed arm draped across B’s chest, my heart aches in a way it never has.
It aches for them and everything we could be.
This wild place is ours—it’s changed us against our wills but for the better.
I don’t want to leave, but I know we have to.
I’m not ready. We won’t survive in the real world.
I just know it. There’s no happy ending for me with these boys.
It’s a cynical thought, but I’m a realist. Life doesn’t generally go my way.
Sebastian’s cell phone buzzes on the nightstand and I reach for it, looking at the number.
“Who is it?” Seb mumbles, his voice muffled by the pillow.
“Some random Washington area code.”
“They can leave a message,” he says and burrows deeper under the covers.
“Huh?” B raises his head and looks around. When his gaze drops to Seb’s arm, he blinks sleepily and frowns. “What does your tat say?” He squints at the words. “Is that a Terminator quote?”
“What?” I shriek, throwing myself onto B’s body and grabbing Seb’s arm.
“Um, ow,” Seb complains. “My arm doesn’t bend that way.”
“‘No fate but what we make’,” I say to myself, grinning. “It is a Terminator quote!”
Seb sighs and pushes up on his other arm so I can get a better look at the words. “Yes, it is.”
“Why do you have a quote from an eighties horror sci-fi movie on your arm?” Brantley asks, running his finger over the ink.
Seb rubs his eyes and then looks at us through his fingers. “Okay, one, that particular quote is from Terminator 2, which came out in the nineties. And two, it’s stupid. It’s nothing.”
“Sebastian Conner, you have a quote from my favorite movie franchise on your arm. This,” I say, pointing between us, “is fate.”
Seb snickers. “You’re a complete realist, Fi. You don’t believe in fate.”
“Well, I do now!” And there are those butterflies again. “Please tell us why.”
“Fine, but you have to promise not to laugh.”
“I promise!” I say.
“I don’t,” B says with a chuckle, and I elbow him.
“I don’t remember my mom,” Seb starts. “She died in a car wreck when I was one and Marcus was almost five. I have a few pictures of her—she was so pretty. Her name was Sarah.”
“Her name was Sarah…Conner?” I ask.
“Yes, though she was born before the movies came out and our last name is spelled differently, so it was just a coincidence. But it didn’t keep her from loving them.
My dad said she used to watch Terminator one and two once a year—though I’m not sure how she’d feel about the newer ones.
” He takes a deep breath. “And she named me Sebastian John Conner as a nod to the franchise.”
My eyes widen until I’m sure they might fall out of my head. “You’re the chosen one,” I whisper, and B bursts out laughing, shaking the entire bed.
Seb gives him a deadpan look. “Anyway, I got the tattoo in honor of my mom, but it’s also a quote that I try to live by, even if I’m not destined to save the world from evil AI robots. We make our own fate, you know? Everything is a choice.”
“That’s pretty deep,” B says. Seb shoves him with an eye roll.
“Everything’s a joke to you, Michaels.”
“You say that a lot, but not everything,” B says seriously. “Snakes are no joke. They’re nature’s supervillains.”
“You’re afraid of snakes?” I ask with an impish smile.
“Yeah,” he says glumly. “I always wanted to visit Australia, but it’s, like, the land of the scary snakes.”
“I don’t think that’s what they call it…” I say.
After that, the guys get up. Sebastian goes to make breakfast, and B grabs a towel and heads to the shower.
I get dressed and go outside for a walk.
I’m standing in the yard, stretching my legs when I notice something white flapping against the cabin’s wood siding—a note.
It’s secured to the building with a rusty knife.
I tug the paper free and squint at it. The note is barely legible, but I manage to make out the chicken scratch.
Thanks for the show, Red. Next time, ditch the fuckboys.
A chill sweeps through my body, and I whip my head up and look around frantically. My eyes fall to the ground, but our footprints from last night still crisscross the lawn in every direction, so I have no way to identify fresh tracks.
I swallow and read the message again. Something about it feels off. For one, the handwriting isn’t Dennis’s—I know because I found (and burned) a box of dirty love letters from him under my mom’s bed after they took her to hospice.
But still, who else would write this? Who else would use that nickname? Maybe he’s disguising his handwriting.
I ball up the letter, choking back a frustrated scream.
I should be spooked, but all I feel is anger.
I’m so tired of looking over my shoulder.
And where would I go that’s safe? Dennis knows too much about me.
He knows about Anna and our place in Brighton.
He knows about the pub, and Marcus and Seb’s apartment.
He even knows about Lakeside Cinema and where Charlie, Link, and Trey live.
If I go to any of those places, I’m putting someone in jeopardy, which is why I came here in the first place.
I grit my teeth, and I hear Brantley’s words in my head as I squeeze the paper in my hand so hard that the jagged edges bite into my palm: “I want us to talk about everything. Whatever you’re hiding about Dennis, you need to tell us. We need to be able to protect you.”
What if I need to protect you?
I hate that Dennis is still controlling me, but fuck that, I won’t run scared anymore, and I certainly won’t make anyone else I love a target.
My mind races, and a plan takes root in my head—one that I’ve been thinking about since my conversation with Seb about Micah.
This is about so much more than money and my stepfather’s debt.
As I always suspected, I’m an obsession to him—like my mom was before me.
Dennis has blackmailed me for years, always threatening my friends and family if I ever told anyone what he had done.
Well, I have one card left up my sleeve, and I’m done being his victim.
The renewed resolve gives me strength, and I shove the note in my coat pocket and send a quick text. Then, I walk toward the cabin.
The guys are on high alert the second I throw open the door and stomp inside. Seb is just putting scrambled eggs and bacon on plates, and B closes the fridge juggling ketchup and a container of orange juice.
“What’s going on?” Seb asks, eyeing me with a deep frown.
“He knows.” I slap the note down on the counter and smooth it out.
Seb picks it up, and B pauses to read over his shoulder. Sebastian looks up at me, his eyes livid.
“Shit,” B mutters. “Was the creepy asshole watching us fuck?”
“Sounds like it.” Nausea crawls through my stomach at the thought, and I realize that he may have been here the whole time when I consider the evidence in the tractor.
“Did you call Detective Lin?”
I shake my head. “I need to figure out somewhere else to go first.”
“We,” Brantley emphasizes. “We need to figure out someplace to go.”
I sigh.
“Fi,” Seb starts, leaning across the counter. “What the heck is going on? This seems like it’s about more than your inheritance and paying off some debt.” B nods along with him, taking a large bite of bacon. “This note reads like a stalker.”
I avoid his gaze and his comment as I sit on a stool with a frustrated huff.
“I don’t even know where to go next. I thought this place was foolproof.
How does he keep finding me?” I curl my hands into fists and relish the little bite of pain my nails make against my palms. “I need to disappear to some place with no connection to any of us or our friends.”
Seb nudges a plate toward me, but my stomach gurgles uncomfortably.
“I know a place.” B gives me a small smile as he chews. “I bought it a few years ago. It’s private.”
“No, if you bought it, it can be traced back to you. Dennis knows you guys are with me.”
He wipes his mouth with a napkin. “It’s not in my name.” B’s features are carefully neutral, but he’s tapping a finger against the counter like he’s hiding something.
“Where is it?” Seb asks.
“Close.”
Seb shakes his head. “Okay, we need to leave now then. I know it’s quick, but let’s be smart about this.”
I hate that he’s right.
“What about my car?” I ask.
“We can still pick it up when it’s ready. Like I said, the place is close.”
After that, under Seb’s watchful gaze, I force a few bites of breakfast, and then I get to work packing up our clothing. Then I move on to the kitchen to bag up the groceries we have left. We don’t have very much stuff, so the process doesn’t take us long.
I help Seb load up the truck. Snow has started to fall in thick waves. I move aside as B shuffles past me with our bags and tosses them into the truck bed. I walk across the porch slowly, the fluffy white powder squelching under my boots, and hand Seb two bags of food when he steps outside again.
Our fingers brush, and I shiver. “That should be the last of it.”
I walk back to inside and look around, sadness tugging at my throat. I wanted to stay longer. I wanted to enjoy our peace longer. B hasn’t said much about where we’re going, but I hope it doesn’t change anything.
I turn and lock the door, walk down the steps, and climb into the truck cab. Seb slams the tailgate closed and climbs in after me, and the smell of B’s leather jacket mixes perfectly with Seb’s citrusy shampoo in the small space.
As we back out of the driveway, I stare forlornly at the little A-frame, wishing everything were different. I hate that we have to run. Again. Anger warms my stomach. Dennis always fucks with everything, and this time, I swear he won’t get away with it.