46 - Sebastian
SEBASTIAN
The first thing I heard was the rumble of the engine.
I was in the kitchen, halfway through my second cup of coffee, when tires crunched over what used to be our driveway. I glanced out the window.
“Showtime,” I muttered.
Behind me, Haven shifted slightly against the counter. She’d wandered in a few minutes ago, fresh from my bed. Fresh from all of our beds actually, over the course of the night.
Which… yeah.
“You ready?” I asked.
She smirked. “For what?”
The air brakes on the bus hissed. The door opened. Voices followed.
Loud. Complaining. Alive.
I tipped my mug toward the window.
“For reality to punch us square in the balls.”
Haven chuckled, then winked at me.
“Lucky for me I don’t have balls.”
The front door didn’t just fly open, it practically exploded. Cold air blasted in. Noise followed.
“Jesus Christ—” Zack burst through first, hunched over, clutching his stomach. “Move—move—MOVE—”
He didn’t wait for a clear path, he just stormed right through. Sprinted straight down the hallway.
“Bathroom’s still the door on the—” Haven started.
Door slam.
Loud click.
Silence. Then—
“Oh THANK GOD—”
Ares snorted.
“Some things never change,” he said.
The rest of the team flooded in behind him, dragging duffel bags, snow, and attitude with them.
“Place better be warmer than that motel,” Caleb muttered, stomping snow off his boots.
“That place wasn’t a motel,” Zack yelled from behind the door. “It was a crime scene.”
“Pretty sure I saw chalk outlines,” Dorian added.
“Those were stains.”
“Worse.”
I leaned back against the counter, watching it all unfold.
Noise. Movement. Energy.
Three days ago, this would’ve been normal.
Now?
It felt like someone dropped a marching band into a library.
Because we weren’t the same.
And yeah—
They noticed.
Not right away, but in the small things. The way Haven didn’t move out of the way. The way she didn’t shrink. The way Ares stepped a little closer to her without thinking.
The way Grayson came down the stairs, took one look at her, and didn’t even pretend it didn’t matter.
Eyes tracked those changes. Conversations hit half-pauses.
“…what’d we miss?” Zack called, emerging from the hallway looking ten pounds lighter and spiritually reborn.
I took a slow sip of my coffee.
“Snow,” I said. “Lots and lots of snow.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“That it?”
“Pretty much.”
He didn’t buy it. But he also didn’t have time to press.
Because right on cue—
“Alright, ladies!”
Mercer. He looked even meaner than before, which I didn’t think was possible.
He pushed into the kitchen like he owned the place.
“Gear down, ten minutes. Bus was a nightmare, roads are worse, and I don’t give a shit because we’ve got a game in forty-eight hours and you all look like you’ve been vacationing.”
His all-knowing eyes traveled between us, singling us out. I couldn’t help but freeze, wondering exactly what he knew.
Those eyes eventually landed on Grayson.
“Captain.”
“I’m ready.”
No hesitation. No edge.
Just… locked in.
Mercer nodded once.
“Good. Because I need you leading like you remember how.”
Something flickered there. It was quick, then gone.
“Rink in an hour,” Mercer continued. “Light skate today, systems tomorrow. Barrage isn’t going to roll over for you just because you got snowed in.”
Ares cracked his neck.
“Good.”
Mercer smirked.
“Yeah. Thought you’d say that.”
He turned and headed back out like a man who’d already moved onto the next problem. The door slammed behind him, and silence lingered for half a second.
Then—
“Well,” Zack said. “That was inspiring.”
“Shut up and get dressed,” Grayson instructed.
All around, the room shifted into something familiar. Something focused. I watched the team fall into place around him, and couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride.
It was good to know that part hadn’t changed.
Even though other parts had.
I sensed it when Haven brushed past me, on the way to the stairs. Felt it when her fingers dragged lightly across my wrist. The movements were quick, but intentional. Not subtle enough to miss.
But also not obvious enough to call out, either.
Zack’s eyes flicked between us. Then to Ares. Then to Grayson.
He opened his mouth—
Closed it.
Smart man.
For now.
I drained my mug, set it down, and followed the others toward the hallway. Game in two days. Team back together. Storm over.
Or at least… over enough.
But as I grabbed my gear, one thought stuck with me.
Haven.
Not what we did. Not even how we did it.
Her.
I’d been lost inside her for days — literally and otherwise. The intoxicating scent of her. The taste of her lips, her mouth, her tongue. My mind echoed with the musical sound of her laughter. My body stiffened, remembering the feel of her hot breath on the side of my neck.
There were other things too. The way she moved through the room like she belonged here now. Like she wasn’t asking for permission anymore. Like whatever line had been there before had been erased completely.
She belonged to the house, now. To all of us.
And the part that really messed with me?
I wasn’t jealous.
Not of Ares.
Not of Grayson.
Not even a little.
I should’ve been. Any normal guy would’ve been.
Hell, any sane guy would’ve been.
Instead?
I kept thinking about the way she looked between all of us. Stretched out on the bed. Pinned between Ares and Grayson, as they sawed her back and forth in the dirtiest, most beautiful way possible.
The soft feel of her ass, pushing back against me. Wriggling just enough on the downstroke, to swallow me so deep I wanted to claw the sheets and scream.
And I could hear her screams too. Her soft sighs. The satisfied coos she made, whenever one of us bottomed out inside her, and the cat-like purrs that came afterward, once she’d climaxed around us.
The molten warmth of her body. The soft curve of her hips, rising and falling, as I watched her sleep.
I loved the way she’d given herself over to us. The way she didn’t hesitate.
The way she leaned into it — like it made sense.
Like we made sense.
It didn’t, though.
None of it did.
Because what we’d done over the past few days? The way it worked? The way it didn’t feel like something we were going to regret?
That was the part that should’ve bothered me.
It didn’t.
If anything… it felt right.
Which was probably the most screwed up thing about all of it.
Or maybe—
I adjusted my grip on my gear, heading for the door as the cold hit me again.
Maybe it wasn’t screwed up at all.
Maybe it was the first honest thing that had happened to us in a long time. We’d survived being trapped together. Survived the truth. Survived each other.
Now we had to survive everything else.
And for some reason?
That felt like the harder part.