Chapter 51
Fifty-One
SEBA
I’m an IDIOT.
I had one job— one fucking job. Pick up my clinically insane stepbrother from the airport and bring him home. Point A to Point B. Simple. Easy-peasy.
Clearly, I forgot who I was dealing with. Cade played me like a fucking fiddle and I let him. I let him because I missed him and was hopelessly distracted by his beautiful face.
Goddammit.
Declan is gonna murder me.
Hands on my head, I pace laps around the kitchen island, sweat dripping down my spine, soaking my shirt, my hair, my jeans.
Heels click on the tile at a leisurely stroll— a complete contrast to the frantic stomping of my boots.
“Did you try calling him again?” Mom asks without looking up from her phone.
Her acrylic nails click on the screen as she ambles to the breakfast nook, where she perches against the table and tucks a lock of recently highlighted hair behind her ear.
The changes started small— new makeup, a haircut, some different clothes— until one day, I didn’t recognize my own mother.
This woman in front of me is a stranger.
A carbon copy of the other church-going wives of St. Gemma’s Parish.
I level a deadpan glare. “He sent me to voicemail. Again.”
She blinks at me, unfazed. “He used to prank you all the time. I’m sure he’ll be back any second.”
Her nonchalance grates on my nerves. She doesn’t get it.
Granted, it’s not like I told her about us.
Or what we did together. The thought of explaining our history to her makes me want to dig my own grave with my bare hands.
But that’s a problem for another day. Right now, I need that menace back under this roof— and hopefully under me later.
“This isn’t some dumb prank,” I scoff.
Her botoxed brow doesn’t budge, but the corners of her eyes twitch. It’s the first reaction I’ve seen from her since I burst through the front door, cursing like a sailor.
“Look, I understand you’re upset about the truck—”
“I don’t give a shit about the truck!” I shout.
She stares at me like she can’t possibly fathom what else I’d be losing it over.
The door to the garage opens. “I’m home!”
My stepfather’s smile vanishes as soon as he walks into the kitchen to Cade’s very apparent absence. Guilt tastes like a steel knife scraping my molars.
“You picked him up, right?” He asks hesitantly.
My mouth opens. Nothing comes out.
Mom resumes texting. “Cade stole Seba’s truck.”
Declan’s eyes widen in panic. “H-he what?”
“Yep,” Mom says, popping the P. “I told you he wasn’t ready. He probably manipulated the staff.”
“And I told you that’s impossible,” Declan snaps back.
Just like that, their fight from last night resumes. That’s all they do these days— fight about Cade. Cade’s treatment costs too much. Cade should stay there longer. Cade isn’t fixable. Cade should come home. Cade isn’t trying hard enough.
If I didn’t have my own place, I’d probably cut my ears off.
A low rumble vibrates the walls. I strain to hear over their back and forth. Maybe I’m imagining it. It wouldn’t be the first time hope has played tricks on me.
The door opens again.
Cade wanders in, twirling my keys around his finger.
He’s a pain in the ass, but I’ll never get sick of the sight of him.
“Way to give us a heart attack,” I growl.
Declan shoots me a warning glare, as if scolding his son will send him right back out the door. The blasé look on Cade’s face says otherwise.
“We were worried, Bud.”
Cade tosses my keys on the counter, glancing between the three of us. “Had one last errand.” His brow lifts at Mom. “Nice hair.”
“Thank you!” She beams, oblivious to the backhanded compliment.
He breezes through the kitchen to the living room.
I tail him like a magnet. “Where’d you go?”
“Wouldn’t you love to know.”
Brat.
God, I wanna pin him down and remind him who he belongs to. His duffel smacks his thigh as he ascends the stairs ahead of me, his ass at my eye level. My dick immediately takes notice. It’s been too long since I claimed him. Too fucking long.
I’m lost to dirty thoughts when he reaches the landing and throws an accusatory glare over his shoulder.
“I’m sure Andrea would’ve loved to know too.”
It’s a bucket of ice water to the face.
So many times, I tracked her down, sat in my truck outside of wherever she was living, battling with the desire to tell her and the need to protect her.
“It wasn’t safe.”
His face falls. His scalding anger disintegrates until all that’s left is disappointment. Tumultuous rapids separate us, the bridge hanging in tatters. I’m foolish enough to make the jump.
“I have proof.”
“I’m not doing this with you right now,” he scoffs, storming down the hall to his old room.
Shit. I meant to warn him—
“Wait!”
“I’m done waiting for you, Sebastian,” he hisses.
I’m incapacitated, my wounded heart exposed, weeping crimson as he reaches for the brass knob.
The room is a time capsule: Clothes, paintings and sketchbooks clutter the floor, the walls, the desk in an array of blue and black fragmented chaos. His trauma spelled out in ink.
The duffel falls off his shoulder. His eyes go vacant.
I rush to him, ignoring the throbbing in my chest.
“Stay with me, baby,” I murmur in his ear, then yell, “DECLAN!”
This is the exact opposite of how I wanted his first day home to go. I let my selfish fantasies get the best of me.
Cade’s quiet voice startles me. “I’m splitting.”
“What’s that, darlin’?”
He’s unblinking, staring into the void.
“Fuck,” I curse. Footsteps thunder up the stairs. My stepfather reaches us seconds later. He doesn’t even look at me as he assesses his son.
“I tried—”
“It’s alright, Seba, just give him a second,” he interrupts.
Mom crests the landing. “Did he skip his meds?”
I see fucking red.
“This is your fault,” I seethe, rounding on her. “I told you to clear this out months ago and you didn’t fucking listen.”
“You said he was taking your room!” She protests.
“He is, but either way, this shit was supposed to go in storage!”
“It shouldn’t matter if he’s better!”
“That’s not how this works! That’s not how any of this works!”
“Enough,” Declan hisses.
I clamp my mouth shut.
Mom crosses her arms over her chest, muttering, “It’s not my fault.”
It takes everything in me not to knock her lights out, but my stepfather is right. Inhaling deep, I turn back to Cade, running my fingers up and down his spine. After what feels like an eternity, he blinks and I release the breath I’m holding.
Declan sighs with a shaky smile. “You here, Bud?”
Cade nods. He looks exhausted, eyes heavy-lidded and shoulders sagging. “I’m just gonna… lay down for a bit.”
“You can take my bed,” I offer.
Declan looks to his son, who shakes his head. “Couch.”
My stepfather glances at the stairs warily. There’s no way in hell he’s getting Cade down there by himself. Rather than ask, I scoop my stepbrother up princess-style. Surprisingly, he doesn’t fight me.
“My legs still work, you know,” Cade mumbles.
I smile despite the pressure building behind my eyes. “I know.”
“Meaning you don't have to carry me.”
And yet, he makes no attempt to get free.
“I don't mind.”
“Yeah, bet you don't, Good Samaritan.”
I snort. “Ain't nothin good about my intentions with you.”
His mouth zips shut. Sighing, I pause. “Want me to put you down?”
His head lolls on my shoulder, silky strands tickling my neck. “Mmm-no, Mmm tired.”
“That’s what I thought,” I chuckle.
His body goes limp in my arms. blonde lashes fan his pale cheeks. I want to kiss his closed eyelids. The bridge of his nose. His parted lips. He’s too beautiful for his own good.
We reach the living room a few minutes later. I’m not ready to put him down yet, but I have a room to clean, among a laundry list of other bullshit to sort out before he wakes up. So I lower him to the couch and drape a blanket over him.
Combing the hair off his forehead, I whisper, “I’m done waiting too.”