7. Denver
Chapter 7
Denver
I stand outside room 309, but I still don’t knock.
I can’t remember the last time I went on a date.
But this isn’t that serious, right? It’s the beach. It’s a vacation lay.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Wesson huffs and shifts on his feet.
“Hush,” I hiss and refocus on the door. “I’m getting there.”
Seemingly not believing me and fed up, Wesson barks. I go unnaturally still, as if doing so will undo the noise, but the door swings open. It isn’t Ethan who opens it, though. A tall, blond man smiles down at me. He’s in a gray shirt and swim shorts, clearly hiding a spectacular body beneath his clothes.
I blink. “How many other hot men are in that room?”
The man laughs, resting a hand on the doorframe. “You must be Denver.”
My reputation precedes me. “I am.” I eye the empty room behind him. “This is Ethan’s room, right?”
“Yep. I’m Sebastian.” He holds out a hand. In the brightly lit hall, I spot the gold band around his finger. A wedding ring. I breathe a little easier and shake his hand. “Is Ethan here?”
“He’s in the shower. And judging by the acoustics, he still has one more Meatloaf song to sing. Oh, and look at you.” Sebastian crouches, and Wesson wiggles closer, tail wagging. “Wesson, right?”
“The one and only.” I say, beaming proudly at the dog.
“It’s an unusual name. How’d you think of it?”
“I had a cat called Smith, too.”
Sebastian plays with Wesson’s ears as he thinks. “Smith and… Oh—” His blue eyes widen as he looks up at me. “You really are adorably dangerous.”
My cheeks warm. “Am I?”
Wesson wanders inside, and Sebastian watches him go before returning his attention to me. “Wanna come in?”
The room is the same as mine, except a blanket and pillow are folded on the couch. I sit beside it, placing my beach bag down and tapping my fingers against my thighs.
“So, how are you?” Sebastian asks. He sits beside me, eyeing my face as if he can see inside my head and all my mangled memories are on display. “Have you felt okay since last night? No vomiting or?—”
I smile tightly. “What are you, my doctor?”
“No, but I’m a doctor. I’m worried about the both of you. It must have been scary as hell,” he says. Of course, the beautiful, caring man is a doctor. Ethan had mentioned that last night. Sebastian tilts his head, his blue eyes filled with worry. “Are you sure you’re all right? If not, you can talk to me.”
The question feels like a whipcrack in the silence. Holy fucking shit… am I about to cry? Yes. I am.
Tears burn my eyes, and my throat thickens because this guy seems to mean what he says. He barely knows me, but he’s worried, and on top of that, he’s offering to listen. God, how affection-starved am I to nearly cry after a stranger offers an ear? I really do need therapy.
I blink quickly. “I’m honestly okay, but thank you.” I take a deep breath, frustrated that it shudders. “God, you’re nice.” Sebastian laughs. “Your wife is lucky.”
He groans and leans back. “Technically, she’s an ex-wife.”
Ah, the other proverbial shoe is about to drop. He probably cheated, or hurt her, or worked too much, or lied.
Sebastian twists his wedding ring. “I just can’t take the damn thing off. I moved out and signed the papers, but it’s this that makes it feel official.” He shakes his head. “Taking the ring off and changing my name is the final nail in the coffin.”
I watch the pain in his expression. Pain that he doesn’t even try to hide. Why can’t I do that? Why can’t I process my pain, even if the world has to witness it?
“Changing your name?” I ask.
He smiles weakly. “Yeah. I took hers. She liked her name so much and didn't want to change it, and I liked the idea of being a Mr. and Mrs., so I became Sebastian Whitlock.”
Fuck. This guy is a dream, right? I almost poke him to make sure he’s definitely sitting beside me.
“What happened for it to end?” I ask, then immediately feel like an asshole for prying.
But Sebastian doesn’t seem to mind. “Nothing. And that was the problem. We’d been together since we were sixteen, and she said she needed more than what her teenage self had wanted.”
God, that’s sad. My heart aches for his pain but also, strangely, for his ex. Forever at fifteen is a lot.
“What about you?” Sebastian says, forcing a smile as he meets my eye. “You told Ethan you weren’t married anymore, but you still wear your ring.”
Yes, I do. For two years, I’ve worn this ring, and almost every day, I’ve wanted to take it off. I did a few times during the arguments that raged in our house. I’d thrown this ring at his chest, hoping for a reaction that wasn’t indifference or walking away.
I slump back into the couch. Shoulder to shoulder with a stranger, I decide it’s time I say the words out loud. “My husband is dead.”
Sebastian’s expression becomes one of genuine sadness. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I say, but it really isn’t fine, is it? I’m a widow. The forever I’d never really wanted was torn away from me with a bullet, and I’d fucked away the reality of that before his body was even cold.
And my biggest regret is that I feel nothing over it. No grief, no remorse, no illogical hope to turn back time for one more minute together.
Because Wyatt Ledger is dead, and he deserves it.
The moment is shattered by singing, and I raise my brows. “He actually has quite a nice voice.”
“Yeah, we were in a band in high school,” Sebastian admits. “We were called Trifecta.”
“That’s the dorkiest thing I’ve ever heard.”
He grins. “Yep.”
We talk for a few minutes. I tell him about my island adventures with Wesson, skirting around questions about why I’ve been on vacation for three months now. Sebastian tells me he works in the ER and loves his job but needs a break.
“Ethan needs a break, too,” Sebastian says. “He works far too much.”
As if summoned by his name, the shower water stops running. A door opens and closes, and Ethan’s voice drifts to us from the bedroom. “Sebastian, you need to give me a pep talk about Denver.”
A wicked smirk spreads across Sebastian’s face, and he puts a finger to his lips. “Oh, yeah?” he calls back. “Why?”
“Because I’m doing that thing where I over-fucking-think,” Ethan declares. “She’s intense, and I like it, and I…” He grunts, and it sounds like a closet door slams shut. “When you meet her, you’ll get it. She’s beautiful, she’s funny, she’s just… alive. And I’m going to fuck it up by either acting too aloof or going all in like an idiot.”
My neck warms. Part of me had worried he hadn’t felt what I had during our hours together, but clearly, he had. He likes me. And the flood of butterflies from that statement should be a red flag when all I want is a fling, but… I can’t help it. He likes me. Me.
Sebastian scrunches his nose and leans close to me. “Now I feel bad that you heard that.”
Wesson gets up and wanders into the bedroom, the tip of his golden tail visible through the door. Sebastian winces.
“Sebastian, why is Denver’s dog in here?” Ethan asks, appearing in the doorway in a towel. When he spots me, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Hello, Denver.”
I give him a jaunty wave. “Hi.”
“You heard all that?”
I nod. “Yep.”
“Did I sound pathetic?”
“Yep.”
Despite the flush in his chest, he’s clearly holding back a smile. He folds his arms as he leans against the bedroom doorframe. “Ready for the beach?”
I grin. “Yep.”