Chapter 32
Sebastian
Something In The Orange – Zach Bryan
Birthdays as an adult are basically just your annual reminder that your bones hate you, and your social battery dies faster than your phone at two per cent. Still, when your mum and sister tell you to be somewhere at “six sharp, Sebastian, not a minute late,” you don’t argue.
Especially not after I spent last week doing exactly that. Because last time I didn’t listen, they staged a joint silent treatment that lasted a full week. I was twenty-eight and traumatised. Sandra even changed the Netflix password. No warning. No mercy.
Yet here I am, pulling up out front, already bracing for the forced celebratory dinner I told them I didn’t want.
They try it every year. Every December. Barbecue.
Cake. Every year, I say no. They never listen.
Not that I don’t appreciate the effort, I do, it’s just not my thing.
I’ve never been the centre-of-attention guy.
Never liked people staring. Makes my skin itch.
Teddy’s hand is in mine, warm and sticky, probably from the juice I told him not to spill.
His grip tightens the second we hit the front steps, and he glances up at me with that cheeky-ass grin.
Olivia was invited—Mum and Sandra made that very clear.
Like I wouldn’t have brought her anyway.
But she texted earlier, saying she had to help her dad out with an inventory delivery.
Some courier mix-up meant it wouldn’t arrive until late, and she promised she’d swing by as soon as it was sorted.
Still, it feels off without having her beside me.
Teddy’s excitement is buzzing off him in waves. Not suspicious at all. He’s usually this hyped when we come here, sure, but tonight, there’s something different in his face. In the way he keeps glancing at the door like he’s waiting for a cue.
I narrow my eyes. “What are you hiding?”
Teddy shrugs, playing it cool. “Nothing.”
“Uh-huh.” I eye him sideways. “Not even a little surprise?”
He shakes his head with too much enthusiasm. He’s not subtle. Excitement is humming off him like he’s about to explode. The second I push open the front door, I get my answer.
“SURPRISE! Happy birthday!”
I flinch back half a step as streamers fly, noise makers erupt, and a chorus of voices, some family, some friends, and at least one drunk neighbour, belt out the greeting. Teddy’s giggling like a little madman.
“Of course.” I crouch beside him, brow raised. “You knew about this?”
“Uh-huh.” A giggle spills out of him before I can even react. I tickle his ribs, and he squeals harder. The second I straighten, I’m swarmed.
Xavier claps a hand on my shoulder. “Look at you. Another year closer to back pain and bladder issues.”
“Piss off,” I grunt, but my mouth twitches.
Bradley slaps my back. “Happy birthday, mate.”
Michael hands me a stubby. “Drink up. You’ll need it. Your bones are probably creaking.”
Harrison smirks. “One step closer to those pensioner discounts, hey?”
I shake my head, overwhelmed but trying not to show it. I notice Woody next, leaning up against the wooden archway with a beer in hand. Stokes is next to him, already halfway through a plate of wings, grinning like an idiot. Reynolds raises his drink with a casual nod.
Even Emma is here, a wine glass already in hand and a wide grin on her face, telling some poor soul a story with way too much hand movement for it to be good. It takes me a second to process everything. They’re all here. My team. My people.
Under one roof, in my mother’s house. What the actual hell?
A lump lodges in my throat. Too many faces, too much noise, and I suddenly feel the weight of it all pressing in. Gratitude. Disbelief. Something close to panic. I’m not used to being seen like this. Not by everyone at once. And just like that, I notice something’s off.
Woody spots me and shouts across the room, “Well, well, look who finally turned thirty!”
“I’m thirty-five, idiot,” I call back, willing my unease to fuck off.
“Exactly. Well past the point of no return.” He raises his beer. “Welcome to your soft launch into geriatrics.”
Emma loops an arm around my shoulder before I see her coming. “Happy birthday, boss man.” She leans back, squinting at me. “Still no greys. That’s disappointing.”
I snort at her remark, just as Reynolds appears, smirking behind his glass. “Didn’t think we’d miss your annual grumpfest, did you?”
I shake my head, huffing a laugh. I should be annoyed, but I’m not.
It’s surreal. The kind of surprise that feels like a slow-moving sucker punch to the ribs.
In a good way. I grunt my thanks where I can to others, but my attention’s not really on them.
It keeps drifting. Skimming over heads, between groups, past the bodies packed into the living room and spilling onto the back deck. I’m scanning. Searching. For her.
There is an ache in my chest now. A sharp, stupid thing.
Like I need Olivia to anchor me. Like I won’t be able to breathe properly until I find her again.
Everyone’s mingling; Isla’s deep in conversation with Emma near the kitchen now, Xavier’s already helping himself to whatever’s in the oven, his plate piled like a man who hasn’t eaten in days, but Olivia?
Not where I expected her to be. That is, until I step out onto the back deck. Then, I finally see her.
She’s by one of the tables covered with food, laughing at something Imogen has said. She’s holding a red plastic cup, cheeks flushed pink, eyes crinkled at the corners, hands gesturing wide like she’s mid-story. Her hair’s down, loose and soft down her back.
And her smile—
Fuck me.
Her smile is so bright, it might as well be lighting the whole damn backyard. It hits me square in the chest. Hard. Deep. All-consuming. Well. So much for that delivery.
Sneaky, sneaky woman.
And suddenly, for no explainable reason, my throat tightens. My eyes sting. What the hell?
Before I can make sense of whatever the fuck that was, my mother intercepts me, sliding two envelopes into my hand and pulling me into a hug before I can step away.
“Here,” she murmurs. “One’s for you. The other’s for Teddy.”
I lift a brow, trying to mask the lump forming in my throat. “Ma. I’m not a kid anymore.”
She sniffles and pulls back, blinking too fast. “No. You most definitely are not. But you’ll always be our baby boy.”
I nod, tucking the envelopes into my back pocket just as my father steps up behind her. He clasps a hand on my shoulder. “Happy birthday, son. Hope you brought an appetite.”
I turn, still a little stunned, and find Sandra. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“We didn’t organise anything,” she responds with a frown.
My brows pull together. “What?”
Mum’s eyes flick toward the food table, and Sandra leans in with a shit-eating grin. “It was all Olivia’s idea. She organised the lot.”
Everything inside me stills. Just for a second. Like my brain needs time to catch up. I turn back to the food table. She’s still there. Still laughing. Still that same goddamn burst of light.
She did this? All of it?
My chest aches. In that dangerous, too-real kind of way. The kind that makes you realise just how much you’ve let someone crawl under your skin.
“She cares about you, sweetheart,” Mum says softly beside me.
Sandra raises her glass. “Everyone can see it but him.”
I don’t respond because my eyes are locked on Olivia. Her smile. Her ridiculous, bright, warm energy that has no business hitting me the way it does. And for the first time tonight, for the first time in years, something in my chest shifts. Pulls. Tightens. Unsettles me.
Because she remembered my birthday. She cared enough to plan all this behind my back.
Quietly. Thoughtfully. And I didn’t even see it coming.
Which is saying something, considering I always notice the details.
Always clock the shifts in the room, the tension in someone’s voice, the things left unsaid.
But Olivia? She got around me completely.
And just like that, reality sinks in, fast and fucking heavy.
In a few weeks, once the holidays hit and I’m off on annual leave from the station, she won’t need to watch Teddy anymore.
No more excuse to show up at mine with that soft smile and smartass commentary.
No more shared mornings, or nights. No more accidental naps on the couch.
No more laughter echoing in my kitchen like it belongs there. And then what?
What the hell do I do?
This is why I told myself not to get caught up. Why I said I’d keep things simple. Safe. For Teddy. For me. Because the second you start letting someone in, boundaries blur. And when they do, it’s not just my heart on the line anymore. It’s his, too.
Bradley warned me. Told me not to be reckless. I promised I wouldn’t let it get complicated. Maybe I should’ve listened, kept some distance, not let want get in the way. Not let the comfort, the flirting, the sex, the way she looks at Teddy—not let it all mean something.
Sandra’s palm smacks my shoulder hard enough to jolt me. “Hey. Don’t go there.”
My eyes snap to hers.
“I know that look,” she says, pointing at me with the hand holding her wine. “Forget we said anything. Seriously. Just… go enjoy your night. And make sure you thank Liv.”
“Okay.” As if I wouldn’t thank her. I fight the urge to roll my eyes like a schoolboy.
Just as I’m about to turn, Olivia appears in front of me, eyes flicking up as she scoops Teddy into her arms. He wraps around her like he’s done it a hundred times before.
“It’s Daddy’s birthday!” he shouts.
“It is indeed.” She grins, cheeks flushed and bright. “And thank you, little man, for keeping the surprise a secret.”
My gaze catches on her face and, just like that, despite everything, something warm hums to life in my chest. I shove those spiralling thoughts aside and let myself stay right here. For Teddy. For Olivia. For myself.