Chapter 35
Sebastian
It Takes A Woman - Chris Stapleton
The house is too damn quiet.
Teddy’s laughter still fills it, but it sounds thinner now, like the echo of something that used to be louder.
Warmer. Even Diesel’s been acting off—grumpy, restless, pacing by the front door every morning like he’s waiting for someone who isn’t coming back.
It’s funny how loud the silence can be when someone’s missing.
Mum’s called twice this morning already. Sandra’s texted twice.
Sandra: We’re doing dinner Sunday.
Sandra: Don’t you dare bail again.
I ignore both. I can’t face them. It’s been a week since the party.
A week since she left that night without looking back.
Since the house started feeling less like home and more like a holding cell.
I’ve been on annual leave, which means my days are now spent building Lego sets and watching Disney reruns with Teddy.
Which is not the same without Olivia’s renditions of the songs.
He’s happy enough, but even his laughter hurts, because it reminds me how easily Olivia used to fit into our lives. How natural it felt, like she’d always been here.
When I finally walk into the kitchen, my eyes catch on the gift I never opened.
It’s been sitting on the counter since that night, the brown paper crinkled from where Teddy’s been poking at it.
I tear it open before I can talk myself out of it.
Inside is a bronze antique-looking photo frame. And the photo that’s framed inside?
Me and Teddy. At the Wattle Creek Fair. Teddy’s on my shoulders, pouting at something, both of us mid-laugh. There’s a sticky note tucked behind the frame.
You deserve to be in photos, too.
Something in my chest twists. And just when I think that’s enough to wreck me for the day, I spot another package underneath, wrapped clean and tightly.
I tear that open, yet this time it’s a book.
A limited-edition print of the crime novel I’d been reading.
Signed by the author. I stare at it for a moment too long. No one ever gets me gifts like this.
Hell, no one has ever thought to.
Another sticky note tucked inside the front cover reads:
Thought you might like this one.
Consider it something that’s just for you.
Christ. I drag a hand over my jaw, tension coiled in my neck like wire. That’s when I see them, those goddamn envelopes, still sitting on the edge of the bench from when she dropped them off. Unopened. Untouched. Like a silent reminder I’ve been trying to ignore all week.
The first one’s from September. I trace the date again. September. That’s when it all started—the rain, the farm, the first kiss. That’s when she stopped taking money from me.
And I didn’t even notice.
It was never about the money.
Olivia’s words echo back, and fuck, they hurt more now than they did then.
I sink down onto a stool, the cheques limp in my hands.
Guilt settles over me, and I allow it to.
I deserve it. How long had she been doing this?
Just showing up, day after day, helping like it meant nothing.
Like it didn’t cost her. Pretending it was fine when it wasn’t.
When she was pouring more of herself into this place than I ever asked her to.
And how did I repay her?
I treated her like I didn’t see her. Like what she gave wasn’t real.
God, I’m such a fucking idiot. I drop my head into my hands, eyes burning, throat thick.
Everything feels tight. My chest, my fists, my fucking heart.
I should’ve known. Should’ve opened these earlier. Should’ve said something. Anything.
My phone buzzes against the counter.
Mum: Sebastian Daniels, you can’t keep hiding in that house like a hermit. I need to see my grandson and MY son.
Mum: You’ve been miserable since your birthday. Don’t think we haven’t noticed.
They’re not wrong. I’ve been a ghost in my own damn house. Diesel huffs from the doorway, tail swishing once before he turns and flops dramatically onto the floor, ignoring me completely.
“Yeah, alright, traitor,” I mutter. “I know you miss her too.”
I lean back in the chair, eyes drawn again to the photo.
The moment she’d captured, frozen in time.
My mind drifts to what she must’ve been thinking while she took it.
She would’ve been smiling. She always did when she looked at us.
Maybe she saw more in that moment than I did.
Maybe she already knew how fleeting it would be.
And then my brain does what it always does when I’m missing her too hard.
It goes to that night. Jesus. I can still feel it.
The way her body trembled under mine. The way she moaned my name.
That wasn’t just fucking. It wasn’t even close.
It was her letting me in. Trusting me with something real.
I felt her fall apart around me, and all I could think was, God, don’t let this end.
Because for that one night, I had everything I didn’t even know I wanted.
Something that felt like home.
I drag a hand down my face, jaw tight, as heat prickles under my skin.
I shouldn’t be thinking about this. About her.
But I can’t stop. And the worst part? Every time I do, it feels like I’ve ruined something I didn’t deserve in the first place.
No woman has ever done that to me. Not like her. And no one else will.
The clatter of cutlery, the smell of roast lamb, and the hum of conversation fill my mother’s kitchen.
Teddy’s sitting between Sandra’s kids, chattering happily about Lego and school while my mother hovers over the oven, barking out orders.
My father pours himself another glass of wine, pretending not to hear.
“Sebastian, grab the gravy, would you?” Mum says, waving a spoon in my direction.
I obey. Because nobody argues with Stephanie Daniels and lives to tell the tale.
But the second I sit down, I can feel Sandra’s eyes on me.
Andrew, her husband, is halfway through a story about a plumbing disaster, and she’s not listening to a word.
She’s watching me like I’m a suspect under interrogation.
“So,” Mum says brightly, sliding into her chair, “where’s Olivia tonight? I expected she’d be here.”
I glance down at my plate, buying time. “She’s… busy.”
Before I can say more, Teddy pipes up beside me, mouth full of mashed potatoes.
“She’s working at the farm now,” he says proudly. “But we’ll see her soon, right, Dad?”
The table goes quiet, and I force a smile. “Yeah, bud. Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Mum parrots. “That doesn’t sound very certain.”
“You sound like an idiot.” Sandra scoffs, stabbing her lamb.
Andrew lets out a low whistle. “Sandra,” he warns, but she waves him off.
“No, seriously,” she says, leaning forward. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been moping around for a week. You used to actually smile, remember that?”
I set my fork down, rubbing a hand across my jaw. “Can we not do this here?”
The clatter of plates fades under the weight of the conversation. Sandra narrows her eyes across the table, her fork clinking against her plate. “So what, she’s not with you anymore?”
“With me? What do you mean? She was babysitting for Teddy.”
“Yeah, right.” Sandra lets out a short laugh. “You don’t organise surprise birthdays and cook for someone’s family just because you’re the babysitter.”
Mum tilts her head, clearly agreeing. “She seemed very fond of you both.”
“Please don’t start.”
Mum’s having none of it. “We’re just saying, sweetheart, you can’t keep shutting everyone out. It’s Christmas. Time to move on.”
“Move on?” Sandra echoes, eyes narrowing. “He doesn’t need to move on. He needs to pull his head out of his ass.”
“Manners, Sandra,” Mum snaps automatically, but she’s smiling.
Across the table, Teddy blinks between us, wide-eyed. “Aunty Sandy, you said a bad word.”
Andrew chokes on his drink, trying not to laugh, and Sandra sighs. “Sorry, champ. Don’t tell Grandma.”
Teddy grins. “She already heard you.”
But Sandra doesn’t stop. Quite frankly, she doesn’t know how to. It’s her stubborn trait, one I’ve had to deal with my whole life. “So, let me get this straight. No more babysitting?”
I set my napkin down slowly, like the motion alone can stop my pulse from hammering.
“No. She’s gone.”
The lie tastes stale in my mouth. Teddy’s voice is small as he speaks loud enough for me to hear. “She’s gone?”
When I look over, he’s staring at me, eyes wide, confusion written all over his little face. My heart stumbles in my chest.
“Teddy,” I start, but it’s too late. His chair scrapes against the tiles, and he’s already running from the table.
“Sebastian,” Sandra murmurs, as guilt softens her tone. “I didn’t mean—”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I know.”
I follow the sound of Teddy’s crying until I find him on the floor, against the back door. I crouch beside him, careful not to crowd him. “Hey, buddy,” I say. “C’mere.”
He shakes his head, fat tears sliding down his cheeks. “You said she’d come back.”
“I know, mate.” My chest aches. “I know I did.”
“You lied.”
I exhale slowly, fighting the burn in my throat. “Sometimes grown-ups say things they hope will be true. I didn’t want you to be sad.”
He doesn’t answer me and I sit there beside him in the quiet hum of the night, feeling the weight of every mistake I’ve made settle in my bones. “I miss her too,” I admit softly.
Teddy sniffles, glancing up at me, his small voice trembling. “Then why can’t she come back?”
I stare out the window, watching the soft blink of Christmas lights reflected in the glass. “Because I made it too hard for her to stay.”
He frowns, the crease between his brows deepening. “Why?”
My throat tightens as I speak. “Sometimes,” I start slowly, searching for words a five-year-old can hold, “grown-ups mess things up. We say or do the wrong things, and we don’t always know how to fix them right away.”
He studies me for a while, eyes glossy with confusion and hurt, before nodding once like he’s trying to accept an answer that doesn’t make sense. His small hand inches toward mine, tentative but certain, and I take it, because it’s all I can do.
I squeeze his fingers gently, grounding myself in the warmth of his palm, the steadiness of him. For all my tough talk, all my justifications and logic, I’m the one who broke it. Broke us.
When footsteps creak behind us, I don’t have to look up to know it’s Sandra.
“You okay, little man?” she says softly.
Teddy sniffs, nodding, and she crouches to brush his hair off his forehead before glancing at me. “You always were terrible at explaining things, you know that?”
I huff a weak laugh. “Yeah, I’m starting to get that.”
She squeezes Teddy’s shoulder. “You can’t keep doing this. You think you’re protecting him, but all you’re really doing is teaching him how to lose things without fighting for them.”
Her words hang in the air long after she leaves us alone again.