Chapter 37
Olivia
Stop Draggin’ Your Boots - Danielle Bradbery
Remember Him That Way - Luke Combs
It would seem the festive spirit really doesn’t exist this year. And if I thought it was gone after everything with Sebastian, it’s definitely been incinerated now.
Oh, God. Please, Lord. I know I cuss a little, and I know I’ve screwed up plenty, but please… please make him okay.
The hospital hums with a sterile kind of stillness, all blinking fluorescent lights and the low hiss of oxygen.
The smell of antiseptic clings to the back of my throat.
My hands won’t stop shaking. I press them together in my lap as I look at my father.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him so small and pale, fragile in a way that scares me more than I want to admit.
The steady beep of the monitor is the only thing keeping me tethered. Mum’s been pacing since we got here.
The doctor said it was a mild stroke. “If he has another, it could lead to a heart attack,” he’d said gently. “He needs rest. Less stress. Better diet.”
Less stress? With Dominic Mitchell? Good luck.
“I told him not to eat all that cake,” Mum mutters, shaking her head to ward off tears.
“If it’s not the sweets, it’s the bloody cigarettes.
This man will be the death of me.” Her voice wobbles even as she tries to sound scolding.
She smooths her hand through his hair, her wedding band glinting under the harsh light.
I have to look away before the lump in my throat gets any bigger.
A nurse enters, clipboard in hand and a kind smile in place. “His vitals are stable,” she assures us. “He was lucky someone acted quickly.”
“Who?” Mum asks.
“The man who stayed with him. Paramedics said he knew exactly what to do and kept him breathing until they got there.”
“The man?” I echo. “Which man?”
Bradley stands from the seat in the corner, stretching out the stiffness in his shoulders. “Sebastian.”
My world tilts slightly. “What?”
“He was in town. Found Dad in the store, got him into recovery, and called it in. Paramedics said it made a difference.”
I just… stare at my brother. The words don’t land right away, bouncing off the wall of disbelief in my chest. “Sebastian?”
Bradley nods.
Mum lets out a sharp sob that melts into relief. “Oh, thank God. That man’s an angel.” She presses a hand to her heart. “I have to thank him in person. He saved your father’s life.”
My mouth opens, then closes again uselessly. Gratitude, confusion, something dangerously close to longing—it all crashes into me at once. The kind of ache you feel when someone you’re trying not to love reminds you exactly why you almost did.
Don’t get emotional, Olivia. He’s just being a good person.
You’d have done the same. It has nothing to do with you.
Except it does. Because that man keeps showing up even when he shouldn’t. And Bradley’s watching me now with a sharp stare. A knowing one. I shift under it, pretending to fuss with Dad’s blanket.
Hours later, after the doctor’s rounds and a blur of visitors—Amelia, Isla, Xavier, the kids—the room finally quiets.
Dad’s asleep, Mum’s gone downstairs to grab coffees with Xav, and I’m sitting by his bed, watching the rise and fall of his chest. He’s so damn stubborn.
Refused to go to his last doctor’s appointment.
“I’ll be fine,” he’d said. Yeah. Fine. I’ll save that lecture for when he’s awake.
The door creaks open, and Bradley steps in. “You got a minute?”
My stomach knots. “Sure.”
We step into the hallway. The fluorescent lights hum above us.
“You holding up okay?” he asks.
“Define okay.” I force a smile. “If by okay, you mean existing on caffeine and sarcasm, then yeah. Totally fine.”
He chuckles softly. “There’s the sister I know.” His voice softens then. “You know, when I got that call from Sebastian… I’ve never heard him like that. He was frantic.”
My brow furrows. “Why are you telling me this?”
Brad’s gaze sharpens. “Because he’s been off lately. But when it comes to you, he doesn’t hesitate, because it was you he was worried about.”
I clear my throat, the words catching. “You know I’m not babysitting Teddy anymore, right?”
His stare is unwavering, those Mitchell-blue eyes that see too much. “He lied to me.”
“Who?”
“Sebastian.”
“He lied to you, how?”
Brad’s tone shifts. It’s calm, but edged with something heavier. “The night of Sebastian’s birthday, I asked him if anything was going on. Between you two.”
I freeze. The memory crashes over me before I can stop it—the balcony, the low hum of music and laughter behind the glass doors.
The conversation I was never meant to hear.
The one that shattered whatever fantasy I’d built in my head.
My stomach twists as the realisation hits, and for a second, I can’t meet his eyes. “I know, Brad. I was there.”
He goes still, and the air between us thickens.
I take a slow breath, forcing myself to finally look at him. “I overheard you. Out on the balcony.”
He exhales slowly, crossing his arms. “Of course you did.” A moment of silence passes between us before he continues. “You know, I never asked you to make me a promise, but I had asked him. And he broke it.”
My fingers freeze on the gold rings I’ve been twisting, their edges pressing into my skin. My voice comes out small. “It didn’t mean…” I pause, the lie dying on my tongue. “It did mean something. But you don’t have to worry about anything anymore.”
He studies me for a long time. “I had my suspicions,” he says finally, like he’s been holding it in for weeks and is relieved to get it out.
My eyes snap up. “You what?”
A faint smile ghosts across his face, but there’s no playfulness behind it. “You think I didn’t notice? The way he looked at you? The way you looked at him?”
Great. My stomach twists, a mix of embarrassment and resignation. Of course he noticed. How could he not? We weren’t exactly subtle, no matter how much I’d convinced myself we were.
“But… you never said anything.”
“I didn’t need to,” he says simply. “He’d come to work grinning like an idiot. Hiding notes in his lunchbox, thinking the boys wouldn’t notice. Thinking I wouldn’t notice.”
The notes. Those damn sticky notes. I can still picture them—scribbled messages written in my messy handwriting, folded between his meal prep containers like tiny secrets.
Eat lunch, Grumpy.
You’re doing great, even if you look like hell.
Try to smile more today.
They’d been our language when words were too much, and now, just thinking about them makes my chest ache.
Brad lets out a quiet snort, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he’s remembering.
“And I definitely knew the night of my birthday,” he says.
“The way he couldn’t keep his eyes off you—it was obvious.
Then that surprise party you pulled off?
Yeah, that pretty much confirmed it.” He pauses.
“You know, even Amelia mentioned something. But I was the one who denied it. Saying it out loud didn’t feel right. Not then.”
“I’m sorry, Brad.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“Because he’s your best mate. I should’ve known better.”
My brother’s expression hardens, though not at me, at whatever thought popped into his mind. “No, Liv. He should’ve known better—” His voice drops even lower. “When he let you go.”
My breath catches.
“He may have broken his promise to me,” Brad says after a beat, “but if there was anyone in this world who would be deserving of you, Olivia, it’d be him.”
I stare at the floor, eyes blurring. “Does Xavier know?”
“Probably,” he admits. “I think he may have suspected something around the time I did.”
“Then why didn’t you both say something?”
He leans back against the wall. “Because you’re a grown woman, Liv.
You don’t need your big brothers interfering anymore.
” His tone gentles, the edge giving way to something raw.
“I now know I was definitely in denial. Because deep down, I didn’t like the idea of my little sister growing up—of you being strong on your own, and even worse, of another man standing beside you. Letting you be independent with him.”
My brother’s words catch me off guard. Independent with him.
They echo in my chest, heavy with truth.
He’s right. With Sebastian, I was. He never once made me feel small or less than.
He just let me exist—loud, messy, unapologetically me.
A tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it.
Brad doesn’t hesitate. He reaches forward and pulls me into his arms, his chest solid beneath my palms, his hand warm and grounding against the back of my head.
I melt into him, and the dam breaks all at once.
Every ounce of guilt, every ache that’s been festering in my ribs, spills out in shaky breaths.
For the first time in weeks, I let myself cry.
It hits me then that this is the longest, most honest conversation we’ve had in years.
Xavier’s always been easier to talk to, his humour breaking through where words failed. But Brad and me? There’s always been something in the way. An invisible film between us, thin but stubborn, keeping us from ever really reaching each other. Until now.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I murmur against his chest. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t know what he wants.”
He exhales through his nose, slow and heavy. “He’s got big responsibilities, Liv. A son. A demanding job.” His hand smooths over my hair, offering quiet comfort. “But that doesn’t make it okay. If he wants you, he’ll have to prove it.”
I nod, my cheek still pressed against his chest.
“And if he doesn’t,” Brad continues, “then he’s a bloody idiot. Because you’re one of the strongest women I know.”