Chapter 15 Gwen
GWEN
The Mexican place was only half a block down the road, so we were in there and had our order placed within ten minutes.
We considered eating in, but their wait time was an hour and a half, so we waited the fifteen minutes it took for my enchiladas and Sebastian’s tacos.
The walk back to Sebastian’s truck was only another five.
Steam wafted from the food as we laid our dinners on our laps, chips and drinks on the center console, and dips on the dashboard.
A few bites into my enchilada, I eyed Sebastian in the driver’s seat, struggling with all his might to keep the contents of his taco from spilling out the other end. I snorted at him.
He shot me a look. “What?”
“You knew we were eating in a car,” I said. “Tacos seemed like the easiest thing on the menu?”
“I know I like tacos.” Glowering, he laid it out on his lap and tucked the end of the tortilla closer to the meat and toppings. “I didn’t know if I’d like anything else.”
I arched a brow. “Tacos are the only Mexican food you’ve ever eaten?”
“No.” Another glare. “But I’m picky, and it’s hard to screw up tacos.”
“So you’re the expert on quality Mexican food?”
“I went to college in California,” he said. “Which is rich with Mexican culture, if you didn’t know.”
“Wow, I had no idea.” I teased. “Tell me more about this foreign land.”
“My roommate was second-generation. He made some bomb ass authentic Mexican food.” Covering his mouth between chews, he shrugged. “Shoot me if I’m a little hesitant to expect that quality at a Mexican restaurant run by white people.”
“Touché. This is bland.” I dipped a chip in the guacamole on the dashboard. “College in California, huh?”
“Four years of university, anyway. Came back here for vet school.”
“What was that like? Never been to Cali.”
“Pretty much exactly what you’d expect,” he said through bites of taco. “Culturally diverse. Way more interesting than Black Pines. There’s always something to do. And so much sun.” He swallowed. “I miss that damn sun.”
“We could use some of that right about now.” I glanced at the snow falling out the window onto the busy street. “I don’t know though. I don’t think I could ever live somewhere that doesn’t get snow.”
“It was nice for a couple years, but I wouldn’t want to deal with that heat twenty-four seven.” He angled to face me. “What about you? Did you go to college?”
“No college. I did go to tech in high school,” I said. “That’s where I learned cake decorating.”
“Is that where you got your knowledge of Mexican cuisine?”
“No, that came from Diego. One of my mom’s boyfriends.” Using the side of my fork as a knife, I chopped off another bite of enchilada.
“Ah.” Holding one hand beneath his queso-covered tortilla, he carefully brought it to his lips. When he finished chewing, he said, “Just always felt drawn to cakes?”
“Pastries more than cakes. But I’m good at decorating. And they’re just easier to make money on. Which I don’t understand, because I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone say, ‘God, I could really go for a cake right now.’”
“I’ve never understood that either. Ice cream cake, I get. But sponge cake with sweetened butter all over it? I swear, people only like it because it looks pretty in pictures.”
“And it feeds a lot of people cheaply,” I said. “So how long does it take to become a vet?”
“Eight years. Four of university and four of veterinary medicine.”
“So that would make you…?”
“Thirty-one.” A half smile. “I don’t think I know how old you are either.”
“Twenty-six.” I took another bite of enchilada and braced myself to ask what’d been on my mind for months. “If you’re only thirty-one, when did you get custody of Lizzie?”
The hazel eyes that had been fixed on me throughout this conversation fell to the food in his lap. He chewed on his lip instead of a taco.
“Shit, I’m sorry. That’s probably a sensitive topic—”
“No, it’s fine.” He cleared his throat. “It was in 2013. I was almost twenty-two.”
Twenty-two, in college, and raising a toddler. Holy shit, I couldn’t even imagine. “That must’ve been hard. Taking care of her while you were in school, I mean.”
“It would’ve been,” he said. “But I had Rhiannon. She’d let me bring Lizzie to the daycare anytime I had class. It was good for her, actually. So many people at the ranch, all that community, they helped me raise Lizzie. She pretty much sees Rhiannon as a surrogate mom.”
“I think we all do.” Shifting in the passenger seat to face him better, I leaned against the door behind me. “How do you know Rhiannon, anyway?”
“She worked at the ranch back when it was my summer camp.” He bundled the foil from his tacos, laid it on the dashboard, and swiveled in the driver seat to face me.
“Then when the camp shut down during the winter, and later when she started turning it into what it is now, I came down to ride horses. My parents wouldn’t let me have pets, but I loved coming to the ranch and visiting them. ”
“No shit. No one ever talks about how the ranch started.”
“Yeah, just a summer camp. When the owner passed, she willed it to Rhiannon. It wasn’t making much money by then anyway. So she turned it into what she was most passionate about.”
“That woman’s a saint.”
“That, she is.” He grabbed his soda from the center console and took a few gulps. “She was basically a second mom to me growing up.”
“Even though she was just your camp counselor?”
He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
After a few hard swallows, he shrugged. “Things weren’t great at home.
But I spent a lot of time at the ranch. The bus dropped me off at the gate after school most days, and I’d walk in, and Rhiannon would take me down to the animals, or have me sit down with some of the girls for dinner.
Then she’d drive me home at the end of the night.
Went on like that through most of my adolescence. ”
“I wish I’d had someone like that when I was a kid.”
“Things weren’t great at your house either?”
“Yeah, not really.” I forced a laugh. “I never met my dad. I loved my mom, and she loved me. But she loved crack more.”
His brows raised. “Damn.”
“Not gonna lie, I figured if I dumped some of my trauma, you’d dump some of yours.”
A genuine laugh escaped him, widening that crooked smile. “I don’t know. My dad had a temper when he drank. And he drank a lot.”
“You get it then.”
“I get what, exactly?”
“What it’s like to love an addict.”
“Never said I loved him.” Sebastian chewed the inside of his cheek. “I know you’re not supposed to say that. Everybody’s supposed to love their parents. But mine was a prick. I hated the bastard. He’s why I left for college and didn’t move back until he died.”
I understood that, but I couldn’t relate.
It wasn’t that I inherently loved my mom either.
I loved her because she was a good person.
She liked getting high, but at her core, she had a kind heart and an open mind.
My memories of her weren’t all bad. Many were, but not because she was ever cruel to me.
If she hadn’t been an addict, she would’ve been a great mom.
Some of her boyfriends, on the other hand, were more like Sebastian’s father.
“What about your mom?” Another chip in hand, I scooped up some salsa from the Styrofoam cup. “Did you guys have a good relationship?”
“Wouldn’t say it was as bad as my relationship with my dad. But couldn’t say we were close either.”
“And she wasn’t jealous of you looking at Rhiannon as a mom?”
He flapped his lips together in a trill. “I don’t know. Maybe? We weren’t a very talkative family.”
“Mine was. Well, my mom was. Crack has that effect on people. Kinda makes them talk a mile a minute.”
“So she talked, and you listened?”
“Listened, and played along when she’d let me get a word in.” He laughed, and so did I. As it faded, still smiling, I shook my head. “Look, one of us has gotta say it. What is this?”
“What is what?”
“You know what.” I gestured to the food, then between the two of us. “Are we just hanging out? Or was this supposed to be a date?”
Joy in his expression dissipating, he pressed his lips together. “Did you want it to be a date?”
“I asked you first.”
“You asked if it was supposed to be a date.”
“Aw, now you’re embarrassed to say it was?”
“You know that emasculating thing? You’re really good at it.”
“It is something I pride myself in.” He rolled his eyes, and I laughed. “If it was supposed to be a date, I’d say it’s been a good one.”
His eyes met mine. They looked warmer than usual. Happier. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I mean, we’re both really bad at it, but I’m having fun.”
“Mocking me over an array of Mexican food—that’s fun to you?”
After the week I’d had? “That is my idea of a good Friday night.”
Something between a harrumph and a laugh escaped him. “Happy to be of service.”
“What, are you not having fun?”
“I never said that.” He frowned. “I’m just really bad at it.”
“Bad at having fun?”
“Bad at dating. But yeah. Bad at having fun too.”
“If it helps, I have no idea what I’m doing,” I said. “I haven’t done this since I was a kid.”
“Had fun?”
“Who’s giving shit now?”
“You started it.”
I tossed my balled-up straw wrapper at him.
He chuckled and tossed it back. “Last time you went on a date was when you were a kid?”
“Last time I went on a first date,” I said, reverting my attention to another chip. “I met my ex when I was fourteen. Was with him until I came here.”
Sebastian’s eyes softened. “I haven’t really dated since I got Lizzie.”
Cocking my head to the side, I squinted him over. “You haven’t dated in a decade?”
“I’ve gone on a couple,” he said. “But there aren’t that many people in Black Pines.
I grew up here, so I know everyone, and everyone knows me, and we’re not big fans of each other.
Dating someone from another town is a pain in the ass logistically, so I kinda just gave up.
With Lizzie and work, I haven’t had time to devote to a relationship. ”
I made a noncommittal noise. “People in town don’t like you?”
“You work in the heart of it.” He tossed another chip into his mouth. “I thought you would’ve heard the lore by now.”
“Ooh.” I leaned forward with my hands under my chin. “You gotta tell me all about it.”
“Not much to tell, really. I was the weird horse kid. Smart and scrawny with thick black glasses. Never fit in with the jocks, no matter how badly my dad wanted me to. Sarah did, and she tried to bring me into that crowd, but I just never got along with them.”
I’d never heard that name before. “Sarah?”
“Lizzie’s mom. My sister. She was Black Pines’ little sweetheart.
I was her weird little brother. My parents were always well-liked.
Did the whole PTA thing. Took part in all the town celebrations, donated to help build the school stadium and all that shit.
Then they all died. My perfect family didn’t fit into their pretty little box anymore. ”
Heart throbbing harder in my chest, my brows raised.
When I didn’t say anything else, he grabbed another chip. “What’s that face for?”
“That was just a very blunt way to tell me your whole family is dead,” I said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Not my whole family. I’ve still got Liz.” He chewed the chip and swallowed. “I don’t know. It sucks. But it’s history.”
Maybe that was true. I still got choked up about my mom’s death, but for the most part, I had to keep on living.
But I also had a community behind me now.
I guessed Sebastian did too. It was just hard to imagine a young single guy, raising a little girl on his own after his whole family died.
Especially because the only person he seemed close with at the ranch was Rhiannon.
And me now, I supposed. Sacrificing his dating life and all his free time on top of that gave me a new sense of respect for him.
“So, no serious relationships then?” I asked.
“Not since I got Liz, no.”
“And before Liz?”
“A couple, yeah.” Another slurp from his soda. “Three. Two in college, and one at the end of high school.”
“Well, you can’t leave me hanging like that,” I said. “What happened?”
He set his drink down and eyed me. “If I tell you about my failed relationships, are you going to tell me about yours?”