Chapter 44
Chapter forty-four
Candace
I turned sideways in the mirror, sucking in my stomach. Rosie's dinner last Sunday—still showing on this Saturday.
At least, that's what I told myself.
The truth was uglier. Messier.
My shoulders climbed toward my ears as I cataloged every flaw. The jeans I'd bought last month—the ones that had slid on like butter in the dressing room—now dug into my hips like a passive-aggressive comment from an ex.
A protein shake here. A handful of almonds there.
Enough to keep the headaches away.
And yet.
Bloated. Puffy. Wrong.
The words scrolled through my mind like a comment section I couldn't close.
I yanked the jeans off and grabbed a flowy dress instead.
Better. Safer.
My phone buzzed on the dresser.
Sebastian: Still picking me up at 5?
I smiled.
The Riverside fair was today.
I'd been counting down all week.
Not a date. Not really.
More like double third-wheeling on Damien and Emma's date.
Right?
I looked at myself in the mirror.
My face still a thousand calories too puffy.
Then I typed back a quick reply.
Me: Looking forward to it!
I hit send as another message popped in.
Garrett: You ugly fucking whore.
Why?
Why now?
I should have been used to it.
The messages came daily—sometimes hourly—cycling through the same tired rotation. Apologies. Threats. Declarations of love so desperate they curdled into something rancid.
This was a threat day, apparently.
My thumb hovered over the block button. I didn't press it.
Why?
I'd asked myself that a hundred times.
Maybe some sick part of you wanted to know when he was spiraling.
Wanted the warning.
A hurricane tracker with a mapped path meant you could escape it.
Another message slid in beneath last night's stream.
Garrett: That fucker jumped me.
Garrett: I'm pressing charges.
Garrett: You'll all pay for making me go through that bullshit.
I didn't disagree.
I'd seen the punch. The blood. The regret.
What I hadn't seen was Garrett.
I considered asking Emma.
But asking meant admitting.
His texts still showed as read.
And Emma would look at me with those worried eyes.
So I said nothing.
My phone buzzed again.
Emma: I'm so excited for today!
I typed back, the smile returning.
Me: I am too!
A lie.
Damien and Emma's happiness could be suffocating.
"Pathetic," Sebastian had muttered, low enough for only me. "Absolutely pathetic."
"Disgusting," I'd agreed, biting back a laugh as Damien pulled out Emma's chair, tucking a napkin into her lap like she was made of glass.
"We should start a support group," he'd quipped. "Siblings of the Hopelessly Whipped."
I'd nearly choked on my pasta.
Emma and Damien would be there.
So would he.
Maybe it wasn't a lie.
He made me laugh.
He made me smile.
Walking through a crowded fair beside him.
Watching Emma and Damien be disgustingly in love.
Eating funnel cake like calories weren't real.
Funnel cake.
Something twisted low in my belly—hunger and fear braided so tightly I couldn't separate them.
Maybe I'd just share Sebastian's.
Rosie's house looked as warm and inviting as it had last Sunday afternoon.
I barely had time to knock before the door swung open.
"Candace!" Rosie pulled me into a hug so tight it forced the air from my lungs. "Thank you so much for getting him out of the house. He's been driving me crazy all week."
"That bad?"
She released me, a smile on her face. "Let's just say he's looking forward to this."
"It's just the fair." I rubbed my arm, looking away.
"Mm-hmm." Her eyes twinkled. "Just the fair."
Sebastian appeared in the doorway in dark jeans and a henley that clung to his shoulders.
His hair was doing that messy-on-purpose thing again.
The one I'd decided wasn't attractive.
I was a liar.
His medical boot clunked against the hardwood as he crossed the room, that crooked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"You look nice," he said, gaze dragging down my body and back up again.
I blushed, but played it off with a tease. "You sound surprised."
"I'm not. I'm just stating facts. You look nice. I'm allowed to say that."
I raised a brow. "Are you?"
"We're going on a date, aren't we?"
"It's not a date," I said automatically. "It's a double third-wheel situation."
"Keep telling yourself that." He hobbled past me toward my car. "Shall we?"
"Sebastian, I can get my own—"
But he was already moving, limping at an alarming pace across the driveway, reaching for my car door and throwing it wide with a flourish. "M'lady," he announced with a silly bow.
I nodded approvingly. "Such a gentleman."
He gave me a sheepish smile. "I'm not going to lie, Damien threatened to castrate me if I didn't open your door for you."
"That does sound like him," I laughed, sliding into the driver's seat.
"Have fun, you two!" Rosie called from the porch, waving like she was sending us off to prom.
Sebastian rounded the hood with that uneven gait—still healing, still pushing himself harder than he probably should—and dropped into the passenger seat with a grunt of relief.
"You didn't have to sprint," I said, eyeing his boot.
"I didn't sprint. I... enthusiastically limped."
"You're going to hurt yourself."
"Worth it." He flashed that grin. "Chivalry isn't dead, Candace. It's just slightly disabled."
I shook my head, turning the ignition.
The car rumbled to life.
Fuck yes.
I pulled out of Rosie's driveway. The evening sun slanted through the windshield, tracing the line of his jaw. The hollow of his throat.
I fixed my attention on the road.
"So," he said, fiddling with my radio. "Emma and Damien are meeting us there. Something about Damien needing to handle a work thing first."
"On a Saturday?"
"The man doesn't know how to turn off." Sebastian shook his head. "It's pathological. Emma's trying to fix it, but..." He shrugged. "Old habits."
Sebastian continued fiddling with the radio until he found something tolerable, the city bustle giving way to country roads.
"Can I ask you something?" Sebastian asked, eyes on the passing fields.
"Depends on what it is."
"Fair enough." He drummed his fingers against his thigh. "Are you actually afraid of rides, or do you just like watching me beg?"
I snorted. "Both."
"Knew it." He grinned. "One ride. Just one. You pick which one, and I'll never ask again."
"Never?"
"Well." He considered it. "Until next time."
"That's not how 'never' works."
"It's fair rules. Different definitions."
I rolled my eyes. "I'm still pissed at your doctor for clearing you for carnival rides."
"You'd wish illness on me?" His face was the epitome of fake sadness.
"Illness?" I laughed. "You mean your self-inflicted overdose and nose-diving from a balcony."
"Excuse you!" he said, feigning offense. "Addiction is an illness."
"I'm not talking about the addiction," I clarified, holding up a finger. "I'm talking about brain trauma."
He huffed out a breath, but didn't argue.
This—the easy banter, the stupid jokes, the complete absence of eggshells—felt foreign. Like wearing someone else's clothes and realizing they fit better.
Garrett had never bantered. He'd performed. Every joke edged sharp. Every compliment carried a cost.
Sebastian just… talked.
Like he enjoyed it.
Like he enjoyed me.
"Fine," I said. "One ride. But I get to pick."
"Deal." He stuck out his hand. I shook it.
The parking lot was a mess of minivans and pickup trucks, families spilling out with strollers and wagons and chaotic energy that made my temples throb.
I found a spot near the back and killed the engine.
"Before we go in," he said, suddenly serious. "I need you to know something."
"What?" I groaned, rolling my eyes.
"I'm going to win you a giant stuffed animal tonight." His expression was grave. Solemn. Like he was delivering a terminal diagnosis. "I need you to be emotionally prepared for that."
I stared at him.
"It's going to be embarrassingly large," he continued. "You'll have to carry it around. People will stare. You might even have to give it a name."
"You're an idiot."
"An idiot with excellent aim." He winked and climbed out of the car before I could respond.
We found Emma and Damien near the entrance, standing beneath a banner that read "WELCOME TO RIVERSIDE FAIR" in aggressive orange lettering.
Emma spotted us first. She waved frantically, bouncing on her toes like a kid on a sugar high—though knowing Emma, she'd probably skipped dinner in anticipation.
I pasted on a smile and waved back.
"Finally!" She threw her arms around me as soon as I was close enough. "I've been dying. Damien wouldn't let me go in without you."
"It seemed rude," Damien said mildly, shoulders rigid.
"Brother." Sebastian clapped him on the shoulder. "You look tense. Did someone spill coffee on your spreadsheets?"
"Hilarious," Damien responded, deadpan.
Emma looped her arm through mine, tugging me toward the entrance. "Okay, priorities. Cider donuts first, or rides first? Damien has this whole plan, but I think we should start with food because I'm starving and—"
"Rides first," Sebastian interrupted. "Empty stomachs."
"Good idea," she agreed, high-fiving him.
"Absolutely not." I planted my feet in front of the rusted metal monstrosity, watching the cages spin and flip while their occupants screamed. "You said I'd pick. I'm not picking that."
"It's a classic," Sebastian protested.
"It's a lawsuit waiting to happen."
"Where's your sense of adventure?"
"I left it in the car with my will to live."
Emma laughed, leaning into Damien's side. "She's got you there."
Sebastian clutched his chest dramatically. "Betrayed. By my own future sister-in-law."
"Shut up." Emma's cheeks flushed pink.
Damien's arm tightened around her waist, the corner of his mouth tipping into a smile.
"Fine," Sebastian sighed. "What about the Ferris wheel? It's slow. Gentle. Practically a nap."
I eyed the Ferris wheel as it turned against the darkening sky.
Couples climbed into the swinging seats, legs dangling, their faces washed in carnival light.