42. Chapter 37
Morning Run Through Turmoil
Sebastian
T he air was crisp and fresh, the morning sky over Santa Barbara streaked in soft hues of pink and gold.
Bas kept a steady jogging pace, his footsteps echoing against the pavement in a familiar rhythm.
His breathing was controlled, but his mind was anything but.
The argument with Evin from the night before replayed like a loop in his head—every accusation, every unspoken fear flickering behind her eyes.
He wanted her. And more than that, he wanted to prove to her that he could be different.
But before he could do that, he needed to settle something first.
When he rounded the corner leading to Cat’s house, his pace instinctively slowed.
Her sleek, modern beach house stood exactly where the rich jogged—maybe not quite in Sandstone Cove, but close enough to fit into that world.
He exhaled sharply, wiping a thin sheen of sweat from his forehead, before making the turn without thinking too hard about it.
If he wanted to give Evin space, if he wanted to be the kind of man she could trust, then he had to draw some boundaries first.
And Cat… she was a line he should have cut off long ago.
__________
The front door was half open, which was typical for Cat. She loved acting unattainable, but in reality, she enjoyed attention—the kind a half-open door invited. Bas raised an eyebrow, knocked against the frame, and stepped inside without hesitation.
“Cat?” His voice was calm but firm.
She appeared from the living room, a coffee cup in hand, her long blonde hair perfectly tousled—as if she had spent hours achieving exactly that look. She wore an oversized hoodie that slipped off one shoulder and grinned in surprise when she saw him.
“Bas,” she said, her voice warm and familiar. Too familiar. “What a rare visit.”
“I was out jogging,” he started, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Thought I’d stop by.”
“Lucky me, being up so early,” she purred, taking a small sip of her coffee, her gaze lingering on him, deliberate as always—too long, too direct. “Come in. Want something to drink?”
He shook his head, holding her gaze. His voice turned firmer. “I don’t have much time.”
Her smile faded slightly, and she raised an eyebrow. “Okay… So what’s up, Bas?”
He took a deep breath. “We need to talk, Cat. About us.”
“I know... I know... There’s no ‘us’ anymore,” she interrupted, her tone suddenly more distant. “You made that clear last time.”
“That’s exactly why I’m here,” he said calmly. “I don’t want any misunderstandings. Last night…”
She gave a dry laugh. “Misunderstandings? You used me, and I used you. Last night… let’s just forget it.”
Bas studied her carefully. This was the Cat he knew. But just to be sure, he mad e it crystal clear: “So we’re on the same page. No half-open doors, no drama.”
Cat stared at him, her expression wavering between understanding and something that almost looked like vulnerability.
“Drama? Me? That jab was deliberate,” she said, tilting her head slightly.
The implication was obvious, but he didn’t let it get to him.
The only thing that mattered was closing this chapter for good.
Cat glanced to the side, about to take a sip of her coffee, when she muttered, “You’re an asshole, Montgomery.”
He smirked. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard that.”
She shook her head, a bitter smile playing on her lips. “Fine. Go to her. But when she breaks you—and she will—don’t come crawling back.”
He met her gaze, his expression softening. “I won’t come back, Cat. You know that.”
He waited a moment, just to make sure she truly understood. Then, without another word, he turned and jogged back toward the beach, the cool morning breeze brushing against his skin.
This chapter was closed. For good.
And he would make damn sure Evin knew it.
__________
Evin
T he morning sun streamed through the curtains, and for a moment, Evin thought she had only dreamed it all. But the weight on her chest, the burning in her eyes—it was real. All of it was real. She blinked against the light, wishing it would warm her, but instead, she remained frozen.
Her mother knocked on the door, cautiously, like she always did these days. “Evin? Breakfast is ready.”
“I’ll be right there,” she murmured, but she didn’t move. She lay still, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers she couldn’t find anywhere else.
It was the little things that tormented her the most—the sound of a certain song, a shadow in the corner of her room, a thought sneaking into her mind when she least expected it.
Sergej’s face kept appearing, again and again, even when she willed it away.
She had thought she could push it down, bury it, just keep moving. But it wasn’t that simple.
Eventually, she forced herself out of bed.
The day stretched out before her like a blank page, yet every movement felt like she was edging closer to a cliff.
She threw on an old pair of leggings and an oversized T-shirt before slipping out of the house, escaping before her mother could ask any more questions.
Outside, everything was quiet, except for the occasional bark of a dog or the distant hum of a passing car. She made her way to the beach, the place she had come to so many times to clear her mind. The sand was cold beneath her feet, and the waves rolled in with their steady, unbothered rhythm.
Evin settled onto one of the rocks at the far end of the shore, pulling her knees to her chest and burying her face in her hands. She wanted to scream, but the words stayed lodged in her throat.
Instead, she reached for her phone and opened the notes app. Writing had always helped her when the world became too loud. Her fingers trembled as she typed the first words:
"I want to forget. But I’m afraid that forgetting means I’ve lost."
She stared at the screen, reading the sentence over and over. It wasn’t a solution, but it was a start.
Her fingers moved again, the thoughts spilling out of her like water breaking through a dam.
"It feels like I’m being torn in two. One part of me wants to move forward, to act like nothing happened. The other stays frozen, trapped in the moment when I should have said no, should have run, should have…"
Evin stopped.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, her throat tightening. The sound of the waves grew louder, filling her head, pressing in like a force she couldn’t escape. She deleted the sentence, but let the cursor blink, waiting for her to decide.
"I hate myself for believing him. And I hate myself even more for reliving it over and over again."
A gust of wind sent a shiver through her, and she locked her phone, slipping it back into her pocket. Writing had lifted some of the weight, but not enough. Never enough.
Then, suddenly, she heard movement behind her.
Her shoulders tensed, her breath quickened. She forced herself to take a controlled inhale before turning around.
Negro stood behind her—Milka’s black-and-white Australian Shepherd, his tail wagging wildly as he bounded toward her.
“Evin?” Milka’s soft voice drifted toward her, just behind the bundle of fur. Her white-blond hair whipped in the wind, and her face was a mixture of worry and hesitation.
"I knew I'd find you here," Milka said as she approached, her movements careful, as if she were trying to soothe a wounded bird.
"Hi," Evin managed, her voice hoarse, as if she'd spent the entire night crying.
"Your mom told me you were here."
Milka lowered herself onto the rock beside her, leaving a small space between them. She didn’t say anything, letting the silence settle between them until Evin found the courage to close her eyes and take a deep breath.
"Before you ask—no, I’m not drowning in self-pity. I just needed some air." Her voice was steady, almost defiant.
Milka raised an eyebrow and sat back. "Getting air at eight in the morning? That sounds like you."
Evin shrugged, accepting the tea Milka handed her and taking a sip. The warmth spread through her chest, but she refused to show it.
"I'm fine, Milka," she said finally, with a smile that almost looked real. "I don’t need an intervention. No therapy talk. Really ."
Milka sighed, pulling her knees up to her chest. "You know I don’t believe you, right?"
"Of course I do," Evin replied, a faint trace of humor in her voice. She liked Milka's bluntness. It made it easier not to lie—at least, not completely.
Milka studied her, her gaze steady but not pressing. "Evin, I know you. You're the last person to admit when you need help. But… I’m here anyway. Whether you need me or not."
Evin turned the cup in her hands, watching the delicate swirl of steam rise into the air.
"I know, Milka. I know."
The conversation faded, and for a moment, they simply sat there, their eyes on the sea. It wasn’t healing, it wasn’t a breakthrough, but it was something.
A fleeting moment where, for once, Evin didn’t feel entirely alone.
The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but eventually, Milka broke it. “Midterms are almost over. Looking forward to the new semester?”
Evin snorted softly, her lips curling into a lopsided smile. “Mhh… Not exactly thrilled.”
Milka chuckled. “Do you know what your GPA is yet? Or is that still a big mystery?”
Evin turned the cup in her hands. The tea inside had long gone cold. “No clue. But I think I’ve managed to pull myself out of the danger zone. Mostly thanks to Ben.”
Milka raised an eyebrow. “Right, you’re still studying with him. What does he get out of it?”
Evin shrugged, a hint of warmth creeping into her cheeks. “Nothing. What’s he supposed to get?” The wind blew strands of hair into her face, and she brushed them aside. “He just helps me with math. And bio. And basically everything that doesn’t come naturally to me.”
“Hm.” Milka drew out the sound before adding, “You do know he still has a crush on you, right?”
Evin let out a loud, genuine laugh. “No, he doesn’t! Ben’s just nice. And honest ly, it feels good to have someone around who doesn’t constantly want something from me.”
“Okay.” Milka stretched her legs out, wiggling her toes in the sand. “But if he shows up with a Valentine’s gift, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Evin waved her off. “Not Ben. And besides—I’ve got enough on my plate.” She lowered the cup and stared into the distance, where the sea met the sky.
“How’s everything at home?” Milka’s voice was soft, but it was clear she wasn’t just asking out of casual curiosity.
Evin shrugged, the wind sweeping a loose strand of hair across her face. “Same as always—constantly asking if I’m eating enough, if I’m sleeping enough, if I have everything under control.”
Milka nodded slowly. “So, nothing new.”
“Not really.” Evin watched the waves roll in, one after the other. “Sometimes, I think they see me as glass. Like I’ll shatter if they look too closely.”
“You won’t,” Milka said firmly, her voice steady.
“I know.” Evin smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “But sometimes, it still feels like I might.”
Milka didn’t respond, but the way she looked at her spoke more than words ever could.
“And you?” Evin turned the tables, shifting the attention away from herself. “How’s everything with your mom?”
Milka pulled a face. “Oh, you know. She wants me to go to college, be the perfect daughter, and still manage to play a flawless audition piece for the university.”
“And your dad?”
Milka shook her head, her voice turning a little colder. “He doesn’t even bother to call. No birthday card this year, no messages—nothing.”
Evin placed a hand on Milka’s arm, a brief, almost imperceptible gesture of comfort. “He’s an idiot.”
“Yeah, he is,” Milka agreed, her tone laced with sarcasm, but also a quiet resignation.
They sat in silence for a while as the sun climbed higher, warming the air ar ound them.
Evin leaned back, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “And? Any special plans for Valentine’s? Maybe with Bell?”
Milka grinned. “Let’s keep that a mystery. And you? With Bas?”
Evin rolled her eyes. “Not that I know of. Isn’t it too early to plan that kind of thing?”
“Not sure,” Milka shrugged, raising an eyebrow. “The big charity event is coming up too. That’s bound to get wild.” She smirked. “I mean, if Cat’s involved, it’s definitely not going to be normal.”
Milka stood up, dusting the sand off her jeans, then held out a hand to Evin. “Come on. We’ve wasted enough time. If I sit here any longer, I’ll start contemplating life, and no one needs that.”
Evin laughed, took Milka’s hand, and let her pull her up. “Yeah, enough philosophy. Back to the madness.”