11. Sebastian
Sebastian
I’m up before dawn, up before the birds, up before the upcoming stress of the day has a chance to creep into my consciousness. Up before Flick.
The pre-dawn quiet reminds me of those months after Jessica left. I’d wake at this hour, the house too empty, too silent. Back then, the early mornings were my escape route—straight to the clinic, burying myself in surgeries and appointments until exhaustion finally silenced the questions.
Carefully, so as not to wake her, I prop onto my elbow and gaze down at her. Her chest softly rises and falls, her eyelashes twitching the slightest bit in her sleep. The morning light filtering through her curtains catches the auburn strands in her hair, turning them to copper.
Warmth spreads through my chest. I can’t believe I’m here, waking up next to her. It’s such a one-eighty from the life I normally lead that it’s hard to wrap my mind around it. How did I get this lucky?
She shifts slightly, her face scrunching up for a moment—pain, even in sleep. I’ve noticed the way she moves sometimes, careful and deliberate, like her body’s betraying her. Another thing we have in common, this tendency to hide our hurt.
As tempting as it is to pull her close, I don’t want to wake her up, and so I carefully get out of bed and put my clothes on. The kitten follows me down the steps, mewing at my heels.
“Hungry, Cat?” I whisper, then shake my head at her name. As ridiculous as it is, it’s sticking.
In the kitchen, she circles around my feet as I locate her dry food and fill her little bowl. The kitchen smells faintly of vinegar and wet wool—remnants of Flick’s dyeing work. There’s something comforting about it, these traces of her passion filling the space.
“You drink coffee?” I ask the kitten, opening Flick’s fridge.
There’s no coffee bag in there, though, despite the fact that a coffee maker sits on the counter. Frowning, I locate the coffee bag in the cabinet. Flick must not know that the beans will stay fresher longer in the fridge, so after getting a pot going, I move the bag to the fridge door.
My phone buzzes on the counter. A text from Rach at the clinic:
Maverick’s owner is here early. Again. He’s fine but she insists you check him.
Be there by 8.
With the pot gurgling happily, I fill the kitten’s water fountain—only to notice that she’s taking the dry food in her mouth, moving it over to the sliding door that goes out to the porch, and eating it on the floor there.
Whatever caused the habit, it’s not surprising.
Animals develop all kinds of weird behaviors after going through stress, and just getting lost in the streets was probably traumatic for Cat.
“How about this?” I move the food bowl so that it’s next to the sliding door. “That’ll make it easier to eat where you want.”
She launches back into her meal, eating with vigor, while I cook Flick breakfast. I’m taking a stab based on what’s in her fridge, hoping that she likes her eggs scrambled and both butter and jam on her toast. The simple domesticity of it—standing in her kitchen, making her breakfast—hits me unexpectedly.
When was the last time I did this for someone?
Jessica always preferred granola bars, eating on the go.
Said sit-down breakfasts were a waste of time.
By the time I’ve finished cooking, she’s still not awake—which is exactly as I want it. Carefully, I put two plates of food and two cups of coffee on the tray that was next to the stove and carry it all upstairs.
It’s perfect timing. Flick is just sitting up, blinking her eyes into focus. The sheet sliding down to bare her gorgeous body to me has my thoughts suddenly going astray.
“Good morning,” I say, clearing my throat.
She squints at me, then her eyes widen. “Hi.”
“Cat is fed, and I made you breakfast.”
She stares at me. “What? Really?”
“I hope scrambled is okay.” I set the tray, which has legs on it, over her lap.
“Any way is perfect. Thank you. This is...” She bites her lip, and I see it—that flash of something like fear. “Too much.”
“It’s not a problem,” I laugh, though her reaction tugs at something in my chest. “You looked so peaceful sleeping, I wanted to bring you breakfast up here.”
She searches my face, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the sheet. “That’s so sweet of you. You really seem too good to be true, Sebastian.”
The words hang between us, loaded with more than just gratitude. There’s suspicion there, or maybe self-protection. I recognize it because I’ve worn that same armor.
I shrug, settling on the edge of the bed.
“Truth is, I don’t usually have time or energy to be sweet with anyone except for animals—and some of my four-legged patients would disagree about the ‘sweet’ part.
” I realize with Flick, though, I want to put a pause on my whole life just so I can make everything perfect for her.
“Nobody’s perfect,” she says quietly, picking up her fork. “Perfect people leave when things get hard.”
The words land like a punch. “Is that what happened? Someone left?”
She takes a bite of eggs, chewing slowly. “Isn’t that always what happens? People promise forever until forever includes bad days and medical bills and...” She trails off, shaking her head. “Sorry. Morning philosophical moment.”
I want to push, to tell her about Jessica, about how I understand that particular betrayal. But something in her posture—defensive, ready to bolt—stops me.
She sips her coffee. “This is good.”
“Thanks,” I say, taking a sip of my own. “I put your beans in the fridge, by the way. They’ll stay fresh longer that way.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that. Thanks.” She offers me a soft smile before her gaze drifts to the morning sun breaking through the window. “I kind of wish I could stay in bed all day.” She shakes her head. “That’s a weird thought. I never want to do that.”
My hand finds her upper thigh through the sheet, the draw as natural as a moth to a flame. “That would be dreamy.”
“Maybe not all day, but all morning, for sure.” Her smile turns playful, but there’s something underneath it—like she’s testing whether I mean it.
“Would I be invited?”
Heat flashes in her eyes. “Depends. What are you bringing to the experience?”
A low growl slips from my throat. “I can think of a few things.”
Scooting closer, I find her lips. Somehow, she’s even softer than last night, her mouth moving against mine with an urgency that belies the early hour. Need roils from my belly and up through my body. Putting my coffee mug on the tray, I cup her face and?—
My phone pings loudly, breaking the moment.
“Sorry.” I cringe.
“It’s okay. You better check it.” She goes back to eating breakfast.
I pick up my phone, only to find it’s not a message but a reminder about making a phone call today. Usually, I don’t set reminders—a morning check of my calendar is more than enough—but this phone call is really important.
“Is everything okay?”
I tear my gaze from the phone. “Yeah. It is. I’m just thinking about the phone call I have to make later. I found a piece of land that should work for my animal sanctuary. Now, I just need to convince the owner to sell it to me.”
She cocks her head, studying me. “Tell me more about that.”
“The land or the sanctuary?”
“Both. What motivated you to start the sanctuary?”
I blow out a long breath. “What didn’t?”
She laughs at that, a real laugh this time. “That’s right. Animals have always been a part of your life. Why am I even asking?”
“No, I’m glad you did.” I scoot closer, enjoying the heat of her body.
“Growing up, you know, my parents had the petting zoo. Most of the animals they took in were rescues. That was the whole intention of the petting zoo. It was to bring in money so that they could take on more animals—help more animals.”
“Your parents sound like good, kind people.”
“Yeah, they are.”
“And so, you wanted to do something similar?” She trails her fingers down my chest. Even with my shirt between us, the touch creates an electric charge.
“Exactly. I know I’m helping animals with my practice and shifts at the emergency clinic, but I want to do more. Help the forgotten animals, the ones who slip through the cracks. Having a sanctuary would be the best way to do that.”
“And you’d run it yourself?”
“Well...” I shift on the mattress, getting more comfortable. “I’d have volunteers to help, of course. And as many employees as I could swing. But yes, I’ll be running it.”
“Wow. And I thought I was busy.” She shakes her head. “A veterinary practice, an emergency clinic, and an animal sanctuary? You sound unbelievably busy.”
I stroke her hand. “I’ll never be too busy for you.”
She blinks, and something flashes in her eyes. Hesitation? Fear? Her fingers twitch under mine like she wants to pull away.
My stomach turns into a hard rock. Was that too much? Have I revealed my feelings too soon? Does Flick see things between us differently?
“Sebastian...” Flick turns her hand over, interlacing her fingers with mine.
I hold my breath, bracing for what she’s about to say. Maybe I’ve misread the whole situation.
“I feel the same way,” she says. “I know my schedule can get pretty crazy, but I’ll never be too busy for you either.” She pauses, then adds quietly, “At least, I’ll try not to be. I’m not... I’m not always good at letting people in. At accepting help. But with you, I want to try.”
Her words—honest and vulnerable—make me freeze. “You... Wow.”
Her lips twist in that amused way they have a tendency of doing. “Yeah.”
“That’s good to hear.” With my next exhale, all my stress and worry leave my body. I don’t care about the long to-do list, and suddenly, I’m not worried about this new piece of land falling through.
I have Flick in my life, complicated and guarded as she might be.
Not since my divorce have I felt this optimistic about another person. For years, I’ve been throwing myself into work, into meeting my goals, into perfecting the vision that I have for my life. Yes, there have been women here and there, but they’ve never caught my attention the way Flick does.
With her, it’s like I’ve been knocked out of orbit. I’m still recalibrating, accepting the fact that her gravitational pull is changing me.
And I welcome it.
My phone beeps again, a reminder that the day and all of its responsibilities are waiting.
“I have to go.” I run my thumb gently over her lower lip. “Can I text you later?”
Desire flashes in her eyes, and she leans toward me. “You don’t have to ask.”
That makes me grin big. “I’ll try not to text too much.” I give her what’s meant to be a short kiss, but it turns into a long, heated one.
Using all the self-control I possess, I break away and stand up. “Have a good day.”
“You too.” She smiles up at me, an angel with sleepy eyes and swollen pink lips.
As hard as it is, I leave her condo—but only because I know this morning isn’t the end; it’s the beginning of something wonderful. Something real. Something worth protecting.