Chapter 26
26
Sebastian Green.
Sebastian is here .
A heads-up would’ve been nice. A text, an email, anything. In his defense, I guess it’s possible someone tried to give me one—my phone is still dead back at my place.
Lauren’s question hangs in the air.
Is that Jett Beckett?
I’ve never seen a person’s head whip around as fast as Sebastian’s did when he turned toward Tyler—never seen an expression shift so seamlessly from confusion to shock to recognition to fury.
“What are you doing here?” Tyler says, eyes darting from Sebastian to River and back again.
“I could ask you the same question,” Sebastian replies, spitting the words like his mouth is full of acid. Gone is the shiny facade he puts on for the entire world—here, in the privacy of our penthouse floor, his bitterness is on full display.
“So, yes, then?” Lauren says from the doorway. “Jett Beckett?”
“He doesn’t use that name anymore,” I say quietly.
Lauren’s eyes widen as she realizes this isn’t news to me: that I knew—that I’ve known —and I’ve kept an enormous secret from her. More than one enormous secret, if you factor in Sebastian and his memoir.
But she’s hardly the only one here who’s been left in the dark.
“Riv?” Tyler says, a thousand questions in that single syllable.
Tyler’s lifelong best friend—keeper of his most secret secrets, who went so far as to help him disappear—has just dropped his nemesis right on his doorstep.
River can’t meet Tyler’s eye.
Tyler turns to Sebastian. “How did you even get here in this snowstorm?”
“Flew in last night,” Sebastian says, shrugging. “Roads weren’t bad yet between here and Burlington.”
Leave it to Sebastian to fly toward a blizzard, not away from it, just because he can . It dawns on me that my text warning him about the Yeti is probably the very thing that made him want to come—I should have known he’d be the thrill-seeking type who loves the drama of a storm like this.
“Showed up unannounced in the middle of the night,” River finally says. “Said he needed to talk to Alix about the book—so I brought him to Alix. Not in the middle of the night, and you’re welcome for that.”
Tyler studies River for what feels like forever, presumably adding up all the pieces: that in order for River to hook me up with the penthouse like he did, he must have known who I was writing about this entire time.
I’m more convinced than ever that it’s not serendipity that Tyler and I met the way we did—but that River put me in Tyler’s path on purpose.
“You knew.” It’s Sebastian who turns on River now, furious. “All this time, you knew where he was? You could have said something.” He cuts his eyes toward Tyler. “And you could have, too. I was drunk the night you disappeared, and there were times—”
He breaks off, and the silence he leaves in his wake feels like an apocalyptic wasteland.
Gone is the Sebastian who claimed Jett Beckett’s disappearance was the best thing that ever happened to him. That may still be true, but he’s clearly also got a lot of pent-up anger. Even if it did eventually change Sebastian’s life for the better, Jett leaving the band affected all of them. It ended them.
“I always wondered,” he goes on, voice breaking, “if I’d said something that pushed you over the edge somehow. I worried about you.”
For a split second, I’m tempted to back into Tyler’s place and let the guys work out their drama on their own—but then Sebastian turns on me too.
“And even you knew?” he says. “How many voice memos did I make talking about the hell I went through dealing with rumors and internet trolls?”
Approximately six hours’ worth , my mind fills in automatically, but Sebastian keeps talking before I can give an actual answer.
“You didn’t think, not once, that it might be relevant to mention that Jett Beckett is alive and well and, oh hey, living right next door to you ?”
“She didn’t know until recently,” Tyler says, shifting ever so slightly to stand in front of me, as if his physical presence can protect me from Sebastian’s barbed words.
“How would I have told you, anyway?” I speak up, bolder now thanks to Tyler’s defense. “You couldn’t even be bothered to text me back—”
“I’m here now ,” Sebastian says, arms spread wide like he’s a gift to the universe. “I thought you’d like the surprise. Most girls would,” he says with a smirk.
Lauren snorts. “Wow.”
“It’s Riv who has some explaining to do,” Tyler goes on.
“Finally, something we can agree on,” Sebastian says.
River, who’s thus far been doing his best to blend in with the decor, pales under our collective attention.
“I, uh—listen,” River stammers. “There are some things I maybe should have done differently—”
“Maybe?” Sebastian interjects.
River clears his throat. “I should have done things differently,” he starts over. “But did either of you ever consider how hard it was to be in the group with the two of you? All I ever wanted was for everyone to get along. I never wanted to choose sides.”
Tyler sucks in a sharp breath. I don’t blame him—it would feel like a thorn in my side, too, if my lifelong best friend seemed torn between loyalty to me and my biggest rival.
“When you were at your breaking point,” River says, glancing at Tyler, probably sensing the exact same tension I am, “I chose you, Ty. I helped you disappear. And I’ve kept your secret for all these years, and I’ve never complained—but did you ever consider how hard it was to help you start over? To stay quiet while the whole world demanded answers? I’ve lied for you for eight years , and at first I told myself it was helping you, but—”
River runs his hands through his hair, eyes shifting to Sebastian.
“But Seb’s about to publish this, like, tell-all—and you guys hated each other, and everyone knew it, and I guess I was worried about what sort of stuff might make it into the book. When Seb reached out to see if Alix could write here for the month, it seemed like the perfect way—”
He breaks off, sorts out his words.
“I don’t know,” he starts again. “I guess it just seemed important for him to know the truth before everything went to print. For both of your sakes.” River’s gaze settles on Tyler. “It’s been hard watching you spend so many years alone, Ty.”
“I haven’t been alone,” he says, but his voice lacks conviction. “I’ve had you and Jules.”
“And it’s been a lot on us to be everything for you,” River replies. “We love you, don’t get me wrong. But we… want more for you.”
“Well, I’m sorry I’ve been ‘a lot,’?” Tyler says with air quotes. It isn’t lost on me that he doesn’t argue with River’s implication that his life is missing something.
The very fact that he and I have gotten so close proves River’s point, honestly.
“You could have just told me,” Sebastian says sharply, “instead of setting us up for… whatever’s happening now.”
“Sorry, bro, but I wasn’t sure I could trust you to stay quiet,” River says evenly. “I thought maybe if you could just see each other—here, where there aren’t any paparazzi—you could have a chance to process everything and maybe talk it out a little.”
“Um, I hate to interrupt your little boy band confessional,” Lauren says, holding up her phone, “but, like… the paparazzi are kind of already here?”
Tyler shoots River a withering glare.
“What do you mean, they’re here?” River says, moving over for a better look at whatever’s on Lauren’s screen. From what I can tell, it’s a shot of Sebastian climbing out of a silver SUV at a resort that looks suspiciously like ours. “Seb?”
Sebastian raises both hands, a universal Don’t blame me.
“Not my fault they follow me everywhere,” he says like he couldn’t care less. “It’s hard to lose them these days. They even found me in Tahiti. They must have tailed me last night.”
Every muscle in Tyler’s upper body looks tight, tense—like a headache in the making.
“I need a minute,” Tyler mutters, and before I know what’s happening, he’s slipped past me and back through his own front door.
He doesn’t let it close all the way, which I take as a sign that I could follow him if I wanted to. Should I follow him?
I guess we’ll find out.
“I’m just gonna—”
I let my sentence hang in the air as I slip into his penthouse, carefully shutting the door.
I don’t see him. He’s not at the kitchen island, where his laptop sits, a reminder of this morning’s first unexpected turn. I still haven’t eaten anything—not that I have an appetite right now.
“Tyler?” I call out.
He doesn’t answer, but it doesn’t take long to find him in his living room, tuning his guitar. I guess we all have our stress outlets.
“Hey,” I say, sinking into the closest armchair, its leather soft against my skin. “Do you want to talk about it?”
His brows pinch together as he continues tuning his guitar. I’m no musician, but he seems to be making things worse instead of better.
“I can go if you want,” I offer when he doesn’t reply.
“You can stay,” he says.
But he doesn’t say any more, so I stay quiet, too.
Finally, he gets his guitar in tune—relatively—and starts playing an intricate, delicate melody. The chords feel hopeful, then melancholy, before building into something that feels more like a question, unresolved and begging for answers.
It’s utterly captivating, this front-row view of his talent. He doesn’t sing, but I wish he would—if his guitar skills are any indication, his time in True North only showcased a fraction of what he’s capable of, musically.
When he eventually stops, the silence feels too loud.
He perches lightly on the back of the armchair, twisting his guitar so it hangs by its crossbody strap like a backpack. I’m still sitting in the chair, but he feels much too far away. When I’ve made my way around to him and we’re standing face-to-face, he tugs me in closer, one hand on each of my hips.
I drape my arms loosely across his shoulders and press my forehead to his; with him sitting like he is and me standing, we’re pretty much the same height.
“Today has been a lot, yeah?” I say.
Tyler sighs, shifts his arms so they’re wrapped around my lower back, and pulls me into a tight embrace. I bury my face in his neck, press a kiss to the soft skin where it meets his collarbone.
“I… don’t know what to do.” His voice is muffled in my hair. “I… Shit . Alix. Don’t move, okay?”
Every muscle in my body tenses at his tone, but I do as he says.
“What?” I ask. “What is it?”
“Drone outside my window,” he says, then mutters another curse.
“Do you think it can see us?”
“Any drone equipped to fly in weather like this has got to be some high-end gear. So… yeah. The camera’s probably as good as it gets.”
Would they even know who they were looking at? For Tyler’s sake, I really hope not.
“They’re probably just checking out all the windows to see if they can spot Sebastian,” he adds, an afterthought.
Little do they know that Sebastian isn’t the only paparazzi- worthy face around here. For the first time since arriving at Black Maple Lodge, it occurs to me that the world will be far more interested in what’s behind these top-floor, panoramic windows than the majestic views outside them.
A moment later, I feel the tension melt out of Tyler’s body.
“It’s gone,” he says.
We stay rooted in place for a long time—me holding on to him, him holding on to what very well might be the last day of his peace and privacy if we can’t get Sebastian and his paparazzi friends off this mountain fast . But with how much snow has fallen—and how hard it’s still coming down—I suspect we’re all stuck here together for a while.
I want to tell him it’ll all be okay.
I really, really want to.
But I’m not a fortune teller, and I’m not a liar.
I press another soft kiss into his neck instead. He melts into me, holding me in the silence like his world will fall apart if he dares to let go.