Chapter 38
Sebastian
Ocean Eyes - Billie Eilish
“Dad?” Teddy says quietly.
“Yeah, bud?”
His voice is small, careful. “Did I do something to make Olivia sad?”
The question hits me square in the ribs, leaving an ache I didn’t see coming. I stare at him like a stunned mullet, unsure if I even heard him right.
“What makes you think that, mate?”
He shrugs, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Because she doesn’t come here anymore.”
Christ. My throat feels dry. “She’s just… busy, bud. You know how grown-ups are. Work and stuff.”
He looks up at me, blue eyes too damn knowing for his age. “But she always came even when she was busy.”
I rub a hand over my face, exhaling hard. “I know, but sometimes people need some more time. Doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about you.”
He nods, but the doubt’s written all over him. And hell, it’s written all over me too. Because what do I even say? That I’m the reason she’s gone? That I fucked it all up because I can’t seem to get out of my own way?
“Hey,” I say finally, forcing a smile. “You’ve got a playdate today, remember? With Corey.”
That gets a reaction. His whole face lights up. “Yeah.”
“And you’re gonna have the best time, mate.”
I stand, ruffling his hair. He swats my hand away with a giggle that knocks something loose in my chest. Corey’s his first real friend, which is a big deal for him. For us. And yet, watching him pack his little backpack, I can’t shake this stupid ache crawling under my ribs.
When we get to Corey’s house, I kill the engine and get out, walking around to unbuckle Teddy from his seat. He’s practically vibrating with excitement, clutching his backpack straps like he’s about to start a bloody adventure, but before he can bolt, I crouch down in front of him.
“Whoa, whoa. Where’s my goodbye hug?”
He grins and throws his little arms around my neck. I hold him tighter than I probably should, breathing him in like I can store the moment somewhere safe.
“Alright, champ,” I murmur. “I’ll be back to pick you up at three, yeah? I won’t be late.”
He nods, serious as anything.
“And, hey,” I add quietly, brushing his curls back. “Remember what we talked about—if you start to feel a bit too much noise in your head, you can ask Corey if you can take a break. Maybe go outside for a bit, yeah?”
He nods again. “Okay.” Then, with that blunt honesty only kids have, he steps back. “You can go now, Dad. We’re gonna build a race track.”
I glance over his shoulder to see Corey standing at the fence, waving him over, a toy car clutched in his hand.
And right there, I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from losing it.
I’m a thirty-five-year-old man, and I’m about to tear up because my kid’s ditching me for a playdate.
Is this normal? I stand there like a bloody idiot, keys dangling in my hand, watching my son run off without so much as a backward glance.
Whoever said kids get separation anxiety lied. It’s the parents who do.
Because as he disappears into the backyard, laughing—free, loud, alive—I realise something I’ve been avoiding all week.
He’s moving forward. He’s growing. He’s happy.
He’s starting to let other people in, and I’m the one stuck standing still.
And for the first time since Teddy came into my life, he’s pushing me away. I don’t even know how to feel about it.
Proud, yeah. Relieved, maybe.
But there’s this undercurrent of fear humming beneath it all.
Because one day, he’ll be older, and it won’t just be a few hours at a mate’s house.
One day, he’ll walk out the door, off to chase his own life, and I’ll have to let him go for good.
And when that day comes—when he doesn’t need me anymore—what’ll I have left?
Someone to depend on? Someone to share the quiet with? Only one face flashes in my mind.
Hers.
That thought alone is enough to make my chest tighten and my stomach twist. Which is probably why, before I even realise what I’m doing, my feet are moving, acting on instinct before my brain can catch up.
I don’t plan it.
One minute, I’m sitting in the car, staring at the empty seat beside me; the next, I’m parked outside the hospital. When the nurse tells me Dominic Mitchell’s already gone home, a heavy weight sinks in my gut. Of course he has.
I’m too late. Again.
Which is how I end up outside the Mitchells’ place, standing like a bloody idiot with flowers meant for a man I barely know—but they’re not really for him.
They’re for all of them. For their home.
For her. And yeah, I had to Google what the hell you’re supposed to bring someone after they’ve been discharged, because apparently, I’m a grown man with no idea how to handle feelings.
Grace Mitchell opens the door, and for a split second, I’d prayed it would be her.
If it had been Olivia, I’d have folded right there on the veranda.
Pathetic, really. I sound like some pubescent teenager trying to figure out what to do with his first crush.
Though, in a way, that’s exactly what this feels like.
“Sebastian?” She blinks, then smiles, with the same quiet kindness her daughter carries in her eyes. “Oh, you didn’t have to…”
I shake my head, shifting the flowers in my hand. “Just wanted to check in. See how he’s doing.”
Before I can think of what else to say, she steps forward and hugs me. It throws me off balance. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “For saving him.”
“Please. I’m no hero. I just… did what anyone else would’ve done.”
The words sound rough even to my own ears, but they’re all I have. Because the truth is, I didn’t save him; I just happened to be there when it went bad. That doesn’t make me anything special.
Grace pulls back slightly. “Maybe not to you,” she says, “but I bet to your little boy, you are.”
The corner of my mouth twitches. “Maybe. I hope so.” I glance away, throat tightening. “Still, anyone would’ve done the same.”
Her brows lift, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. “Not just anyone,” she says, turning toward the hallway. “Come in. He’ll want to see you.”
I hover at the doorway. “I don’t want to intrude, Mrs—”
“Grace.” She waves a hand. “Please. Don’t be silly.”
Her tone has that motherly steadiness that squeezes something in my chest. Much like my own mother’s, and so, I follow her inside.
The Mitchell house smells like lemon polish and fresh laundry.
She leads me to the lounge, where Dominic’s in an armchair, the colour creeping back into his face.
He pushes himself up, moving slower than he probably wants to.
“If it isn’t the bloke who helped me out at the store.”
I rub the back of my neck. “Just did what needed doing, that’s all.”
“Probably would’ve karked it if you hadn’t shown up. I owe ya one hell of a thank you for it.”
“No need to mention it, sir,” I say quietly.
“I will anyway. You’ve no idea what that meant, for me, for Grace, and for our Liv.” Dominic’s tone shifts, then his eyes narrow. “Speaking of, you got any idea why my daughter’s been off lately? Grace says she’s been quiet. That’s not like ‘er.”
My stomach dips. “I’m not sure,” I manage, voice low. Half a lie. Half the truth. The hurt sitting between us is mine to own. I can still see the look on her face when she walked away, how she swallowed down the sting and pretended not to care. Christ, that look’s branded into me.
“She not working for ya anymore?”
“Uh, no. I’m off on annual leave now. Home with my boy for a bit.” The excuse sounds pathetic, even to me. I rub a hand over the back of my neck. “She’s got plenty on her plate anyway.”
He studies me for a long moment, quiet, assessing.
The man’s sharp, with the same kind of intuition Liv has.
Knows more than he lets on. Must run in the blood.
That mix of stubbornness and instinct. Finally, he leans back in his chair.
“She’s out back,” he says, eyes glinting with something that borders on amusement.
“By the barn. Taking Blue out for a ride.”
I nod, grateful for the out, though my stomach knots at the thought. Of course she’d be there. Horses. Freedom. The one place she can’t be cornered by anyone but herself.
“Thank you,” I say, shaking his hand one last time.
As I turn for the back door, I catch Grace’s faint smile and step out into the sun. The gravel crunches with each step, louder than it should be. My pulse hammers through the quiet, matching the rhythm in my head. Back to square one. Only this time, I’m not sure I’ll walk away so easily.
The barn smells of hay and memory. Dust floats through shafts of sunlight, catching on the air as she swings a saddle onto Blue’s back. Then she sees me. Her hands still, mid-motion. Her mouth parts, surprise flashing across her face.
“Sebastian.” That voice. All the air leaves my lungs. I try for a smile, but it doesn’t last. Not when the warmth in her eyes hardens into steel. “What are you doing here?”
I swallow, shifting my weight. “I, uh, came to check on your dad. Wanted to see how he’s doing.”
She straightens, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “He’s fine,” she says. “The doctors said it was a mild stroke… but he’s lucky he made it to the hospital. Thanks to you.” Something flickers in her expression. “Thank you. For being there.”
I nod, but it feels wrong. Too formal. Too far from what we were.
She takes a step forward, and her scent permeates the air.
Her sweet shampoo, mixed with hay and leather and something that’s just entirely her.
I don’t realise how close I’ve gotten because now I can practically feel her body heat.
She lifts on her tippy toes to place a kiss on my cheek, a quick motion. Blink, and I would have missed it.
“What was that for?”
“I’m still annoyed at you,” she says matter-of-factly, “but I wasn’t raised to be impolite.”