Chapter 8
Chapter eight
Mandie
Great. Just enough time to psych myself up for this.
I dragged myself out of bed, the cool floor sending a shiver up my spine. My reflection in the mirror was a mess. Hair sticking out in every direction, eyes heavy, and a visible hangover pounding behind my temples.
I splashed water on my face, the shock of it doing little to wake me up but at least washing away the grogginess clinging to my skin. A quick brush through my hair, a swipe of ChapStick, and I pulled on my usual uniform: black leggings and an oversized gray sweater.
No point in dressing up for this. If anything, the more disheveled I looked, the more it might throw him off.
Sebastian’s door was closed. I hesitated for a second, fingers curling into a fist before I knocked. Three sharp raps echoed in the hallway like gunshots.
A pause. Then his voice, smooth and measured. "Come in."
I pushed the door open.
His room was sleek, modern, and so him. Neutral gray walls, minimalist black and chrome furniture, all sharp edges and clean lines.
The bed was neatly made, comforter smoothed like it had never been slept in.
A single lamp cast a warm glow over the seating area where he sat, legs crossed, hands resting on the arms of his chair.
He looked like he’d been carved from marble. Slicked-back hair, crisp white button-down, dark slacks. The man didn’t own a wrinkle.
"Ms. Weaver," he said, nodding as I stepped inside. His voice was all professional detachment, like we were in his office instead of a secret superhero hideout.
I shut the door with a little more force than necessary. "You calling me Ms. Weaver now? What, did I miss the memo where we went back to square one?"
His brown eyes flickered before he schooled his expression. "After last time, I think it’s for the best."
I snorted, dropping into the chair across from him. The leather was cold against my legs. "For the best," I repeated. "Right. Because last time was such a disaster." I leaned back, stretching my legs out. "So what’s the deal, Doctor? We doing titles now? Should I call you sir? Your Majesty?"
A muscle in his jaw twitched. "Dr. Hayes will suffice."
I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly saw the back of my skull. "Fine. Dr. Hayes." I mimicked his tone, all stiff and proper. "Happy?"
“Ecstatic. Did you sleep well?”
“About as well as anyone can sleep in the Arctic.”
He hesitated. “Who told you that?”
“Who cares?” I shrugged. “What I want to know is how you can come and go out of here when you can’t fly and you would turn to ice if you left here.”
He rolled his eyes, like this wasn’t worth his time.
“Roger is the only one of us who can fly. The boss, he has his flying motorcycle. There are stairs in the garage to take us to the top, Johnny can use those to get in and out with his superspeed. Donovan, Matt, and myself have a small jet we use to come and go. It can fit all three of us if needed, plus one more.”
A jet? I can’t even drive a stick shift. There was no way I was flying a jet out of here. I had to find another way.
I straightened my posture. Why the hell the Arctic anyway? A little too Superman, don’t you think?”
Sebastian started pouring himself some scotch, like he knew this would be one of those sessions.
“More like Frankenstein. The boss has an attachment to that book. The Arctic is where Dr. Frankenstein and his creation had their last stand.”
“What is with grown men and Frankenstein these days?”
He ignored the jab, reaching for the notepad on the side table. "Last time, we were discussing your ex, Teddy," he started, pen poised like he was about to take notes on my soul.
"Nope." I cut him off. "You said you were going to tell me why you became a hero. Remember?" I tilted my head. "Or was that just another stall tactic?"
His pen stilled. For a second, I thought he was going to argue, but then he set the notepad down with deliberate slowness.
"We need to address your issues with Teddy first," he said, leaning forward just enough that I caught the faintest hint of his cologne, something woodsy and expensive. "It’s affecting your ability to trust, and that’s..."
"I trust you," I said, the words out before I could stop them.
The room went still.
Sebastian’s eyes locked onto mine, dark and unreadable. The air between us thickened, like the moment before a storm breaks. I could hear my own pulse in my ears, the steady thump-thump betraying how much those three words cost me.
I had to break the silence. "You told me how you got your powers out on that lake. When I told you that you already told me your origin story, you corrected me. You said you told me how you got your powers, but not why you chose to become a hero."
He exhaled slowly, sitting back. The professional mask slipped, and I saw the man beneath it. The one who’d kissed me. The one who’d looked at me like I was something rare.
He studied me for a long moment, gaze tracing over my face. Then, with a sigh, he rubbed his temples, the first real sign of frustration I’d seen from him. "You’re relentless," he muttered.
I smirked. "You say that like it’s a bad thing."
"Relentless, but also right."
"Thank you," I said, deliberately emphasizing both syllables.
He hesitated, then reached for the glass of scotch on the side table, taking a slow sip. I watched his throat work, the bob of his Adam’s apple. It was stupid how something so small could make my stomach tighten.
"Six years ago, I was a professor at Columbia University.
My Alma mater. Tenured, respected. I had everything I thought I wanted.
" His fingers tapped against the armrest, a nervous tic I’d never seen before.
"There was a colleague. Another professor in the psychology department.
Brilliant. Beautiful." His voice dropped. "Married."
I didn’t react. Didn’t judge. Just listened.
"We had an affair," he continued, words coming faster now.
"It lasted eight months. She was… in an abusive relationship.
She never told me. She..." He trailed off, shaking his head.
"It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I should have known.
I should have seen the signs. We slept together almost every day.
There were signs, and I may have ignored them because I was selfish.
If I hadn't been, perhaps I could have seen what was happening.
I could have done something. Then, maybe, she would still be alive. "
The raw honesty sent a chill down my spine. This wasn’t the composed Sebastian I was used to. This was a man stripping himself bare.
"She killed herself," he said, the words flat. "Left a note. She said it was the only way she could escape her husband." His hands clenched into fists. "I should have seen it coming."
The silence that followed was suffocating. I could feel the weight of his guilt pressing down on the room.
"That is why I took a leave of absence. That is why I went to my cabin on the lake. Because of all that, I was in the very place at the very time where I got my powers. I saw it as a sign. If I couldn't save her as a psychiatrist, perhaps I could save others as a superhero."
My chest ached. I’d spent so long seeing him as this untouchable, composed man that I’d forgotten he was human. That he hurt.
"So you became Liquen," I said softly.
He nodded. "I trained. Learned to control it. And when I was ready, I started looking for ways to help. That’s how I found the Keystone.
The boss recruited me after I stopped a bank robbery in Manhattan.
" A bitter laugh escaped him. "Ironically, the robber was a former patient. Another failure on my part."
I wanted to reach out. To tell him he wasn’t a failure. But I knew he wouldn’t believe it.
After a while, he exhaled, some tension leaving his shoulders. "Your turn," he said, voice rough.
I blinked. "My turn?"
He nodded. "Teddy. You’ve been avoiding it long enough."
I groaned, slumping back. "Seriously? After that, you’re still pushing this?"
"Yes."
I glared at him, but there was no give in his expression. Fine. If he could bare his soul, I could at least try. "What do you want to know?"
"You said he cheated on you?”
“Yeah. He cheated, he lied, and he was never around.”
“Do you know who he cheated on you with?”
I hesitated. “I had never actually caught him cheating. There was no other explanation. The sneaking around, never being home. We lived together and we could go for weeks without seeing each other.”
“Did you ever confront him about any of this?”
“Of course. He denied all of it. He said he wasn’t cheating on me and work was just really busy. Can’t get a more lame explanation than that.”
“Sounds like someone that is hard to open up. Not much different than you.”
I picked at a loose thread on my sweater. "I am not as bad as him. At least I try. I was with him for two years, and I still don’t think I really knew him. He was always… distant. Like part of him was somewhere else." I swallowed. "I got tired of feeling invisible."
"Two years is a long time. Maybe the better question is, why did you stay so long?"
I shook my head, resisting, then giving in.
"Because the time we did spend together, he was the best boyfriend I ever had.
He knew me. Knew what I liked, how to make me smile.
And the sex? There wasn't a surface on me he didn't know how to please.
He would kiss and nibble this spot on my neck in a way that was so subtle, no one else could ever come close to matching it. "
“You stayed with him because of the way he nibbled on your neck?”
I threw my hands in the air. “I don’t expect you to understand it. But to this day, that is still the sexiest thing a guy could do to me. And no one else has been able to get the spot just right like he did.”