Lifting my head from the toilet, I groan and slowly stand. Using the wall to help keep me upright, I wait for my head to stop spinning before moving to the sink to wash my mouth out. I brush my teeth and strip off my winter pajamas. Fuck knows what I was thinking putting those on. Combine them with the alcohol trying to leave my body, and it’s no wonder I’m a sweaty mess. I climb into the shower and take a minute to let the warm water run over my body in an effort to wake me up. After washing and conditioning my hair, I step out and wrap a towel around myself and one around my head.
Once back in my room, I dig through my drawers, tugging out my sweatpants and an old cotton t-shirt. I’m trying to maneuver the shirt over my head while the towel’s still wrapped around it when I hear male voices coming from the living room. Quickly unraveling and chucking the towel off my head, I slip my shirt on and run my comb through my hair as I walk out to see who Zeke’s talking to, seeing as it’s only about six a.m.
Rose woke up a few hours ago, but I heard Zeke resettling her, and in the state I was in, I promptly raced to the bathroom, threw up, and passed out on top of my sheets again. Super classy, I know. Never again. As it is, the only reason I’m up right now is due to sweating my ass off in those damn flannel pajamas and needing to empty whatever was left of the contents of my stomach. Which is likely nothing at this point.
“If you must know, then yes I stayed here. All night, in this exact spot. Now, can you fuck off so I can maybe get another few hours’ worth of sleep?” Zeke grumbles.
I round the corner to find out who he’s grumbling at. It’s Seb.
Holy shit, it’s him.
I stop dead in my tracks, my comb hanging from my hand as he turns his dark chocolate gaze my way.
“Liv.” His face softens as he walks toward me, grabbing my cheeks gently in his large hands. “Fuck, I’ve been a huge idiot,” he rasps out. “Can we talk?” His eyes flit briefly to Zeke’s sprawled out form on the couch. “Privately.”
The comb drops to the floor as I reach up and wrap my hands over his. Not entirely sure if I’m still drunk, or if this is actually real. I just stare at him, trying to work it out. Trying to work out what I’m supposed to do right now, with my brain short circuiting and my heart hiccuping in an unsteady rhythm.
“Please,” he whispers when I still don’t say anything.
I run my hands over his then watch his chest rise and fall underneath his black and gray t-shirt and decide this must be real.
Holy hell.
I step back, his hands falling from my face as he watches me with that familiar crease forming between his dark brows. I turn and head for my bedroom, not knowing what to do. Isn’t this what I wanted? For him to come home? To want to talk? Yet here he is. I’m hungover and pretty sure I’m still not sober enough to even drive a car, let alone try to talk to him. I start pacing the length of my room as he follows me in, closing the door behind him and leaning against it.
“Liv, talk to me,” he says quietly. “What’s going on? Why is he here?”
I can’t help it; I burst out laughing, cutting myself off abruptly when I remember that Rose is asleep. The last thing I need is to wake her up right now.
I stop pacing and turn to look at him, finding him frowning at me until his gaze falls on the bedside table. He walks over to it, lifting up the picture of him and Rose and running a finger over it.
“How is she?” he asks the picture.
“Good,” I croak.
He places it down and positions it exactly how it was before—before I decided that I couldn’t stand looking at it any longer.
We’re both silent for a minute, but for whatever reason, when he looks at me, I start talking. Knowing that even if I don’t know what to do, or what I’m even feeling right now, I still don’t want him thinking something he shouldn’t.
“Zeke watched Rose last night. I went out with Millie for some drinks, and I got home late.” I watch his eyes close. “So I told him he could sleep on the couch.” I shrug. “He’s been getting to know Rose, and he’s been, um, well, behaving.”
Seb scrubs his palms over his face before turning to sit on the bed. “Come here.”
I can’t say no to this man, especially when I have no idea which way is up and which way is down at this point in time. My heart’s still trying to calm down and catch up with all that my brain has registered. I sit down beside him, leaving some distance between us. I want to erase any and all distance between us, but I know I’m still so hurt over what he did and how he just left us like that. So as much as I’ve been hoping and praying for this moment, I’m not about to forget everything and drop to my knees to beg for forgiveness. Not anymore.
I look down at my hands. “Seb … where the hell have you been?” I raise my gaze to meet his—which is a mistake. Seeing the emotion swirling within those dark brown eyes has me wanting to crawl into his lap and forget this whole mess so badly that it physically hurts to keep still.
“I went home. Dan and Sienna had their baby. I got the call not long after …” he trails off
I nod, not needing him to say it.
He clears his throat. “Anyway, I stayed there. She was born a month premature, so I hung around. I kind of needed the time, I guess.” He shrugs and looks at me remorsefully.
I look back down at my hands, wishing once more that I knew what to do.
“I’m so sorry, Liv.” He sighs, and I see him turn toward me in my peripheral vision. “I should’ve called you, should’ve done anything other than not saying a damn thing, and I know that.”
I nod again, running a shaky hand through my wet hair as I stare off at the wall.
“Is she okay?” I ask. I’m scared to even look at him, for fear I’ll jump right back into his waiting arms. I want to. The urge to lay my eyes on every part of him, to strip him bare and feel every inch of him to satisfy my starving heart is extreme. But I can’t keep letting this shit happen to me. It hurts. It chips away at the very essence of who I am every time I take a direct hit to the chest.
“She’s perfect.” He pauses for a beat. “Liv, I was an asshole. I fucked up. I …” He blows out a heavy breath. “I should’ve believed you. I should’ve trusted you enough, hell, trusted in us enough not to jump to fucking conclusions so quickly. No matter how bad things looked when I walked through the door that day.”
My bare feet shuffle on the floor beneath us. “I understand why you might not believe me.” I smile sadly at the wall. “I’d feel the same way if I were you. But I know you, Seb. I had the kind of trust in you that would’ve made me hear you out, let you explain.”
“Wait, what do you mean, had?” he asks quietly.
I bite my lips and keep my eyes focused on a smudge on the paint of the cream wall.
“Would you please just look at me?” he begs.
I shake my head then hear him move. His strong arms turn me to him and envelop me before I can say or do a thing. Against my better judgment, I inhale, and his familiar scent instantly overwhelms me. God, how I long to throw all resistance out my bedroom window. My heart constricts as my brain wins out. I stay tense, completely still in his arms as I listen to him whisper apologies to my hair.
A tear sneaks its way down my cheek as he pulls back to grip my face with his hands. My eyes close as any and all remaining strength drains from my tired body and mind.
“Liv, fucking look at me.” He rests his forehead against mine, and we breathe the same air for a precious few seconds.
I shake my head. “I … I can’t Seb,” I whisper. “What you did … Why …”
He peppers kisses all over my face, and I move to pull away, only to have his lips fuse to mine, breaking the tentative hold I had on my sanity as I get lost in the soft feel of them. The taste of him invades and conquers every one of my senses as his lips part mine and our tongues fight a slow duel of desperation and despondency.
“I love you, Olive Sawyer. I’ll forever love the shit out of you,” he murmurs against my lips
I pull away and wipe the wet from underneath my eyes, not knowing when more tears escaped unnoticed.
“You need to go,” I whisper.
“What?” he croaks. “I know I messed up, and I’m sorry. But you can’t … I can’t—” I cut him off, knowing I’m hanging on by a mere thread of willpower.
“You left us; you just left. I’d never betray someone like you thought I might have, especially you. I could maybe forgive you leaving me that night; you had reason to be upset.” I brace myself and meet his gaze. “But you left us here. For almost two weeks, I’ve heard nothing from you. Two fucking weeks, Seb.” Anger and hurt have my voice growing louder than I mean for it to.
“I know.” He runs a hand over his eyes. “Christ, I know. But at the time, I wasn’t thinking. I was losing my mind, and I also needed to get to my family,”
I laugh dryly and stand to start pacing my room once more.
“But did you once think about what I might be going through? I thought we were your family. You men think you can just walk out and fucking waltz back in as you damn well please.” I try to lower my voice as I stare back at him. “No.” I point accusingly at him. “Not anymore. I can’t keep doing this. It’s suicide for my heart every damn time, and I just need it to stop.” I breathe and lean on my dresser as I stare up at the ceiling, trying to keep more tears from falling free.
He rises and steps toward me. “I didn’t think. I was so caught up in my own head, in my own doubts …”
“Liv.” A knock sounds on my door. “Everything okay?” Zeke asks from the other side.
I blow out a breath and answer, “Yeah, thanks.”
Seb laughs sardonically.
“What?” I snap.
“Oh nothing, just fucking irony at its best if I’ve ever seen it.”
The door swings open, and Zeke runs his assessing eyes over me.
“Might be time for you to leave, man.” He turns to Seb.
I watch as the two men simply stare at each other.
“Fine,” Seb relents through a clenched jaw. “I’ll call you, Liv.” He walks over to me. “This isn’t over,” he whispers as he stares down into my eyes. Looking into those dark depths of sincerity, I find myself desperately wanting to believe him. I really do. But I think it might be too late. His eyes flit to each of mine before he gently grabs my face and kisses my forehead softly. My eyes shut and stay that way long after I hear the front door close.
“You okay, Liv?” Zeke asks quietly.
I nod, opening my eyes, not realizing he was still there.
“Yeah, I’m just going to lie down for a bit before Rose gets up.”
He looks at me for a second then nods, stepping back out and closing the door.
I sit back down on the bed, throwing my hands in my hair and breathing deeply in hopes that it’ll alleviate this confusion, this stabbing pain in my chest. Having your heart stomped on and crushed—well, that kind of pain lingers for a long time to come. Even when your heart’s healed, it will never be the same as it once was. You become skeptical, hesitant to trust, and unwilling to give love out as freely as you once did. I gave him the scraps of my war-torn heart and watched as he handled them with care until he was able to hold the entire thing in the palm of his hand. Wherever he went, he would take it with him. I learned to trust him with it until he did the unthinkable and almost destroyed it once more.
I love him; I love him with a burning fury that devours the heart and soul. But sometimes, love just isn’t enough.
I don’t know if I can trust him with this heart of mine anymore.