Chapter One
Where the hell is my uniform?
Grace Wilder dragged her hands through her hair. It was here somewhere.
Damn it, she was going to be late.
Where the hell—
Okay. Calm. She needed to calm. Stop. Breathe.
Closing her eyes, she forced herself to be still. One breath. Two breaths. Three.
Now, where was her uniform?
The pile of overdue ironing sat on the chair in her bedroom. Hid the chair. An accusation of multicolored fabrics and broken promises. Her uniform did not magically make itself visible.
“Stupid bloody breathing.” This was bad. She had an in-service meeting with the rest of her team in less than forty minutes. It would take her more than an hour to get there—even longer if she couldn’t get her fickle car to start and hit all the red traffic lights—and she was currently having a breakdown in her bedroom wearing nothing but her least frayed bra and a pair of ridiculously skimpy black undies she must have bought once upon a time, but who the hell knew when. Plus, she had to drop Cody off at Shelli’s before she got to work.
Overdue ironing. Overdue laundry. Overwrought mind. Grace Wilder, this is your life.
“Cody?”
Silence greeted her desperate shout.
Of course, Cody was next door washing Justin’s Great Dane. “It’ll help pay the bills,” he’d said.
Grace scrunched up her face. What ten-year-old was meant to worry about paying bills? Ten-year-olds were meant to be worried about what Pokémon cards they didn’t have yet, or if they were going to be running onto the field at the beginning of the match. Although in Cody’s case, it was more like if he would get to see the new Marvel movie or would Mum be working…again.
She let out a sigh. She was doing a bang-up job of failing at being a good mum lately, with all the double shifts and missed school events and…and…
She let out another sigh. Okay, getting worked up wasn’t going to find her uniform, and Cody was not likely to have done anything with it. She hoped.
“So I go to work in my underwear,” she grumbled, searching through the pile of ironing. “My little effort to making paramedics sexier.”
A wry snort tore at the back of her throat. God, imagine how her fellow paramedics would react? Not to mention those patients they were called out to. How would a suspected heart-attack victim deal with their paramedic arriving in just a bra and undies?
“Well, it is summer, after all.” She strode for her wardrobe and threw the doors open for what felt like the twentieth time. “At least I’d be—”
Her uniform. Hanging on its hanger. In the wardrobe.
Heat prickled her cheeks. “How the bloody hell did I miss… Argh!”
She yanked out the navy-blue pants and shirt and slid a glare at the photo of the smiling man pinned to the back of the wardrobe door. “This is all your fault.”
Gary smiled back at her.
He had always been the one to keep things on track in their lives, the organized one. What with her usually on night shifts, and Gary home most of the time when not on call at the station house, the ironing and laundry and groceries were always done.
He’d found ironing relaxing. A stark contrast, he’d said, to fighting fires. He’d set up the ironing board, press play on one of a number of footy games recorded over the week, and got to it, zoning out as he kept their small family in uncrumpled clothes.
Now…now, she was doing all the ironing and laundry, or rather not doing them. And when was the last time she’d watched a game of football? Two years ago? Maybe?
She looked at the photo, a lump in her throat. “Still haven’t forgiven you for getting killed.” Her whisper scraped against the room’s silence. “Even after all these—”
The doorbell rang.
Shit.
Tugging her uniform’s shirt over her head, she hurried for the door. One of these days Cody would remember his key.
The doorbell rang again. “Coming, coming.” Hell, her buttons weren’t lined up. “We’re running late, so you need to get shoes on and brush your hair straight…”
The word “away” died in her throat.
A man stood on her doorstep. Tall, lean, broad-shouldered, staggeringly good looking, with shaggy dark blond hair, golden stubble on his jaw and blacker-than-black Wayfarers covering his eyes.
A man. Sebastian Hart.
Her stomach dropped.
“Grace?” Confusion filled his voice. The voice of her most frustrating, irritating, annoying dreams. “Grace Ford?”
Grace gripped the doorknob. Was fate playing a joke on her?
A gust of hot wind from outside blasted through the open door, flaying at her legs. Her bare legs. Bare.
Yep, it seemed fate was. Crap.
Lifting her chin, she smiled at Hart. Screw him. So she answered the door in her underpants. He’d seen her in less.
Yeah. When you were three.
“Sebastian.” Damn it, even the feel of his name in her mouth unsettled her, just as it had all those years ago. “It’s been a long time. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in Hollywood?”
Mistake Number One: letting him know you’ve followed his career.
Sliding his sunglasses up onto the top of his head, he ran a slow gaze over her, as if still trying to process what he was seeing.
“Grace Ford?”
Did he have to sound so stunned? And did his eyes still have to be so damn blue?
“The braces are gone. Can’t call me Tinsel Teeth anymore.”
Mistake Number Two: letting him know his name-calling got to you.
He shook his head, dragging a hand over his mouth as he took her all in.
“Do you want me to turn around? Do a little pirouette?”
His eyebrows shot up, and he met her direct stare. He dropped his hand and shook his head again. “Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting a blast from my past when I rang the doorbell. Wow. You look good.”
“And I didn’t before?” She shoved her hands onto her hips. “Of course I didn’t. You told me that often.”
“Okay, okay, I know I was a wanker back then.”
She narrowed her eyes. That was a wholly startling confession from the bane of her childhood existence.
He offered her a lopsided grin. “Peace?”
She did look good now. Her teeth were straight, she’d started wearing contacts in her midtwenties, and working double shifts had affected her time to eat. Sometimes, after collapsing into bed in the early hours of the morning, she’d remember she hadn’t had a chance to eat dinner. Or lunch. Hello less curves.
Damned if she was going to fidget under his gaze. “Sure. Peace. But I’m running late, so whatever this unexpected reunion is about, can we rain check it?”
For, perhaps, never?
“Shit. I’m sorry.” His expression grew apologetic. Apologetic? When had Sebastian Hart ever been apologetic? “I’m actually… Y’know, I think I’m at the wrong house.” He bent backward, flicking a look over the outside wall next to the door. A frown knotted his eyebrows. “Hmm, right number.” Fresh confusion filled his face, and he removed his sunglasses from the top of his head and dragged a hand through the artful mess of his hair.
It wasn’t right, a guy having such incredible hair. It wasn’t fair. Especially an arrogant prat of a guy who used to tease her about her hair.
Releasing a long sigh, she fought the urge to drag her fingers through the crazy mop of uncontrollable strawberry-blonde curls.
Frizz, you mean. You haven’t conditioned it in ages, remember.
“I really have to go, Hart.”
He nodded but didn’t move.
Typical Sebastian Hart, only doing what he wanted to do. Nothing had changed since they lived next door to each other, it seemed. Back when his mother treated him and his brother like overindulged emperors who always got their way, and her parents were busy struggling to cope with her dad’s MS.
Another sigh escaped her. She was tired, and late, and she didn’t have time for him. She tapped her foot. “Sebastian?”
“Do you know a Cody Wilder?”
A cold prickle crept over her. She frowned. “Why?”
For a split second, he looked sheepish. In all her years of knowing him, he’d never looked such a way before. Sebastian Hart had two emotional states—smugly happy and arrogantly self-absorbed. Sheepish didn’t fit his psyche, the one fostered by his doting mother, and further groomed by his phenomenal talent and success.
“I’m meant to be meeting a Cody Wilder here.” He let out a chuckle, one that said it couldn’t be him that had made the mistake. It had to be the world who’d stuffed up. “Do you know him?”
Oh boy.
Gripping the doorknob again, she swallowed. “I can’t help you. I’m late for work, and I have to go. Unlike you, I need to follow a clock.”
The sound of the back door slamming shut shot through her. She jumped.
Of course, this would be when Cody decides to come home.
Footsteps sounded behind her. Way back in the house but heading this way.
“Bye, Hart.” She closed the door. In his face. Just as the glimpse of someone lurking on her footpath with a camera in his hand caught her eye.
Who was that? Paparazzi? Reality show photographer? What was Hart’s game?
Didn’t matter. She had to get to work, and she had to drop Cody off at Shelli’s before she did.
“Nice legs, by the way.”
She jumped—again—at Sebastian’s muffled laugh from the other side of the door, and then ground her teeth. “Leopard doesn’t change his freaking—”
“Mum!” Cody barreled up to her, his young face etched in panic. “Mum.”
“What’s up?” A quick inspection confirmed the lack of gushing blood or broken bones…or both. “Can you go brush your hair?”
“Mum, you’re going to be late.”
Warmth swept through her. Damn, he was a good kid. Too quirky and introverted for his own good sometimes, but a good kid, despite all the missed movies and school events and—
“And you’re not wearing pants.”
Laughing, she turned to face him, continuing to her room in a backward jog. “True. But I am wearing my undies. And I’m wearing a smile, isn’t that enough?”
She gave him her best I’m-an-adorable-idiot smile, the one that always made him crack up.
Without fail, there were the giggles. Followed by a curious frown. “Probably not.”
She rolled. “Where’s your sense of fun?”
He shrugged.
Reversing her backward jog, she closed the small distance between them and attacked him with tickling fingers. “Where is it? Is it here? Here?”
He giggled, squirming and trying to tickle her back.
Heart swelling, guilt lashing through her—how many other times had she needed to cut short their fun together because of work—she snatched him into a rough hug. “C’mon, bug. We are late. Go brush your hair while I put my pants and shoes on, okay?”
Disappointment shone in his eyes for a heartbeat, and then he nodded and bolted for the bathroom.
She would make it up to him. On the weekend. There was a superhero movie exhibition on at the Museum of Contemporary Art, a collection of posters and storyboards and whatnot. He’d mentioned it to her more than once after seeing it advertised in the paper last month. She’d take him to that, and if she could swap out her night shift, they could catch the Manly Ferry and have ice cream for afternoon tea. An overdue mother-son outing.
Yeah, that’s what she’d do.
Once back in her bedroom, she finished getting dressed. And then the thought she’d been trying to ignore hit her. “Cody?”
Cody hurried in, brush in hand, as she was putting on her sensible black shoes.
Heart thumping faster than it should, she tugged on her laces. “Do you know who Sebastian Hart is?”
“The movie director? Sure. Why?”
Of course Cody would know who Hart was. The kid was a walking, talking movie-trivia machine.
Throat thick, she straightened and brushed out the creases in her work pants. “Do you know him?”
Cody laughed. “Like, in person? No. How could I know him? He’s a famous celebrity.”
How indeed. So why the hell was he turning up at their door asking for Cody?
“Why?”
She shook her head. “No reason. I just wondered if you knew who he was.”
Liar.
“Yep.” A smile filled Cody’s face. “He’s the most famous Australian director in the world. I like his movies.”
“Excuse me? He makes horror movies, disturbing dramas, and action films, doesn’t he? When have you watched those kinds of movies, young man?”
The smile turned to an impish grin. “Shelli likes them. She says Sebastian Hart is a film genius.”
Traitor, Shelli.
Rounding the end of the bed, Grace snagged the back of his neck in a playful grip and started hustling him from the room. “In that case, I think I will be having words with my best friend. It’s the mum’s job to screw you up at a young age, not the honorary aunt.”
Cody laughed, shrugged her off, and ran from her room. “Race you to the car.”
Warmth flooded through her as she followed him. Yeah, she really did need to see if she could swap her night shift. She owed Cody some serious mum time. But first, she needed to deal with Shelli.
Scooping up her handbag from the kitchen table, she dug out her mobile.
Hey. We need to talk. About what you’re doing with Cody, she typed, adding a smiley face at the end. Shelli was amazing, her best friend since they were eight. It would take a lot to really make her angry with Shelli. Although praising Sebastian Hart’s talent was getting close. Ish.
Her phone burst into life in her hand as she was shoving it back into her bag.
Shelli. Calling her.
She connected the call and pressed her phone to her ear, hurrying for the garage. “Wow, woman, that was quick.” She put her hand over the receiver and shouted, “Cody? Where are you?”
“Just grabbing something to eat,” came the call from the vicinity of the kitchen.
Because of course they had time for him to have a snack. “Cody. Car!”
“I meant to tell you ages ago.” Worry filled Shelli’s voice. “When we first did it.”
“Hmmm.” She pulled open the door leading to the garage, lips twisting. How long did she let Shelli stew?
Well, she did call Hart a genius, so…ten minutes at the least?
“But then you had that shit run-in with that drunk woman who tried to stab her boyfriend in Kings Cross, and I thought it would be better to tell you when you weren’t so angry.”
Oh man, that night, that woman… Grace had needed stitches just above her right eyebrow thanks to that woman.
“Okay, I’ll forgive you.” She smiled. “Just tell me there wasn’t too much gore or sex or violence.”
Silence.
“Shelli?” Surely Shelli wouldn’t have let Cody watch something like that? She wasn’t a mum herself, but she was intelligent. And responsible. She’d never let Grace down in all the years she’d been caring for Cody while Grace was at work during nonschool hours.
“Errr.” Was that guilt in Shelli’s voice? Or confusion? “What are you talking about, Grace?”
Grace’s pulse thumped. “What are you talking about, Shelli?”
Silence. Again.
“Mum?” Cody called from the kitchen. “There’s a man in our front yard taking photos of our house.”
Heat prickled over her.
“Shelli? What are you talking about?”
“Okay, okay, don’t be mad.” Yeah, definitely guilt in Shelli’s voice. “Four weeks ago, when you were on the double night shift and Cody stayed over, he asked me about what I do at work. About the Big Brothers Big Sisters program.”
“Why would I be mad?”
Why? Why indeed? And while we are asking the whys, why did Sebastian Hart suddenly turn up at your door asking about Cody?
The heat racing over her turned to a clammy chill.
Shelli cleared her throat. “Umm…because he asked if I could get him a big brother.”
“A big…” Oh no. No.
“He didn’t want you to feel bad or upset, but he sounded so excited about the idea,” Shelli went on quickly. So quickly the words almost tripped over one another. “He begged me to put him in the program.” She paused. Cleared her throat again. “I meant to tell you before now, but I…I forgot.”
“Forgot.” Holy hell, why did her chest feel like an elephant had sat on it?
“But then yesterday the organization got a call from Judge Yvonne Myers—she’s a huge supporter of the program, really nice woman—with a new big brother she wanted paired with Cody ASAP, and I remembered how much he likes movies, and how he keeps saying he wants to make movies when he…”
Shelli’s voice petered away, replaced by a thumping in her ears. Her pulse? Whatever it was, it was louder than a freaking cannon.
Oh no.
The heat rushed back over her. Searing away the chill.
“Mum?” Cody appeared in the hallway, a frown on his face, an apple in his hand. “The man is taking lots of photos of our house. I think there’s someone—”
“Grace?” Shelli’s voice scraped at her ear. “I didn’t mean…”
“Mum?”
“Shelli.” Hell, was that her voice? That croaky, scratchy rasp? “I think I’m going to kill you.”
Cody burst out laughing.
“Grace,” Shelli said. “I was only thinking about—”
Grace ended the call and slowly walked to the front door. Opened it.
Sebastian—sitting on the top step, sunglasses back in place—grinned up at her. “About bloody time. I could really do with a cuppa right about now.”
“Big brother,” she said. Or maybe she croaked it?
“Big brother.” His grin turned sheepish, and yet at the same time it was somehow Sebastian Hartish—the grin of a man who thought he was awesome. The patented Sebastian Hart grin that had infuriated her as a teenager.
He straightened to his feet, brushed his hands over his arse, and then tossed a nod over his shoulder at the man with a camera lurking on her footpath. “Now, Cody Wilder’s mother…” She couldn’t miss the playful emphasis. “Do you mind if I come in? I’m kinda getting sick of having my photo taken by the bastard paparazzo over there.”
Oh God, she’d kill for a cupcake right now.
…
Grace had changed since the last time Sebastian had seen her. Gone were the braces and the extra weight his mother used to refer to as “persistent baby fat.” Gone were crooked teeth and the bookish glasses that used to always slide down her upturned, freckle-smattered nose.
Is she wearing contacts now?
The urge to lean closer to her, to study eyes he didn’t remember being quite so green for the telltale signs of lenses almost made him bend at the waist.
She was still short. And even though the persistent baby fat was gone, she was still curvy. The male part of him recognized and remembered the very full breasts she’d had as a teenager. She’d always tried to hide her size in loose clothes. His mother had called her slomecky. To this day, he’d never been able to find a definition for the word, but even as a kid he’d understood the context. It had made him uncomfortable every time she used it. He once even told her not to. She hadn’t listened, of course. When his mother decided on something, nothing could change her mind or ways.
In the navy-blue paramedic uniform Grace currently wore, he could just make out shapely hips as well. He’d teased her relentlessly about her hips once.
The memory traced a cold line up his spine. Why had he done that?
Oh, that’s right. Harrison had mentioned how nice she looked in the dress she’d worn to the middle school dance. Sebastian—who’d long suspected his brother had the hots for Grace—didn’t stop teasing her about her wobbly hips, and foofy hair, and girly pink lip gloss until she’d kicked him in the shins and shoved him on his arse. Christ, he really had been a wanker back then. There really wasn’t any excuse for it.
And foofy? Had he really used the word foofy?
Her hair wasn’t foofy now. The crazy copper-blonde curls were still there but more subdued than they used to be, hanging around her face, in her eyes as if just waiting for the right time to run amuck again.
Yeah, she’d definitely changed. The whip-smart, bitingly sarcastic, fearless Grace Ford—who’d challenged him every time they clashed—seemed as subdued as her hair.
Tired.
Because she was a mum?
Where was the dad? Her husband? Boyfriend? Why wasn’t he doing something to help her out? And come to think of it, if Cody Wilder was her kid, and Cody Wilder was almost eleven, then that meant she’d been eighteen when—
“If you’re going to stare at me constantly like I’m an insect, this is going to get weird.”
He blinked. “I was staring?”
She let out a sigh.
“Mum?”
A young boy appeared at her side, curiosity shining in his big green eyes.
Cody. Had to be. Apart from the straight blond hair and preadolescent skinniness, he could be a mini-male version of her. Even the wire-framed glasses on his face reminded Sebastian of the ones Grace used to wear.
Cody, the little boy he was going to play big brother to as part of his community service.
Hell, he still couldn’t believe he’d been given community service by Judge Myers. Of course, he deserved it. He had thrown a shopping trolley through the window of Sydney’s main Hugo Boss store just so he could try on a hat.
That was the last time he went to a bachelor party with James Dyson, Thomas St. Clair, and Harrison. The three of them were bad influences—his younger brother the worst of them.
Bad influences, enablers, and fellow billionaires. A dangerous combination, to be sure.
And now here he was, on his old next-door neighbor’s front step, unsettled by his reaction to seeing her after all these years.
Life really knew how to grab a bloke by the short and curlies sometimes.
“Hi, Cody.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Sebastian, your new big brother. Reckon you could convince your mum to let me inside?”
Cody’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “I don’t know. She doesn’t seem happy to see you. Are you nice?”
Sebastian laughed. Yep, definitely Grace’s kid. “I am.”
Grace barked out a laugh and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. Like a root canal.”
There was the Grace he remembered. The one that always rubbed him the wrong way.
Wrong way? Never let you have your way, you mean?
“Who’s the chick, Hart?”
The coarse shout from the footpath made Sebastian grit his teeth.
Grace raised her eyebrows. “Friend of yours?”
“Theo Olsen. Scum of the earth. Makes his living in Australia by invading the privacy of celebrities.” He dropped a wink at Cody. “Which I am.”
Cody laughed. Shy, a little uncertain, but a laugh all the same.
Grace huffed out a sigh. “This is a lovely reunion, Seb, but I’m late for work. So if you’ll just go away, that would be—”
“Go away?” Cody grabbed her hand. “But, Mum, he’s my big brother. Can’t he stay here with me while you go to work?”
“Who’s the kid?” Theo Olsen called. “Yours?”
Without turning away from Grace and Cody, Sebastian flipped the bird at the paparazzo.
“Prick,” Olsen shouted.
“Okay. We’re done.” Grace glared at the pap. “Sir, if you don’t walk away now, I’ll make sure you can’t.”
“Mum.” Cody gasped.
Grace rolled her eyes again. “I’m late, and I don’t have time for this kind of nonsense. Seb, I don’t think this whole situation is going to work, so if you could just go find a different cause to throw your fame behind, that would be great. Ta.”
She began to close the door.
“Mum,” Cody protested.
“Yeah, Mum.” Sebastian pressed his hand to the door, halting its progress. Why did his chest tighten every time she called him Seb? He’d never let anyone call him that in his entire life, but Grace had done so when they were teenagers to piss him off. Which it had. So where was his anger now? What was different?
She is.
“Please, Grace.” He hadn’t expected to have the door closed on him twice. He wasn’t a fan of it. Olsen was going to make a fortune with the photos. Shit. “Let me come in. Not as Cody’s big brother, but as me, Sebastian. You know me.” He gave her his most cajoling smile. “I’m nice.”
The statement had the required effect. Grace rolled her eyes, shook her head, and threw up her hands. “Fine. Come in.”
Yes. Chalk one up for me.
“But not for the whole damn day. I have to go to work, and I’m now incredibly late. Instead of dropping Cody off at my friend’s place, I’ll call her on the way. When she gets here, you can leave. Got it?”
He grinned. “Got it.”
“Does he have to?” Cody frowned. “He’s funny. We can play Mario Kart and Minecraft, and all the other games you don’t like playing.”
Grace let out a sigh and scrubbed a hand over her face. “He does. When Shelli gets here, Seb leaves.”
Cody pouted. “Okay.”
She pointed a finger at Sebastian. “Cody is not allowed to leave the house, he has homework to do, and he’s not allowed on any iDevice until it’s done.” She shot her son a quick mock scowl. “And don’t believe him if he says he’s allowed to eat chocolate and ice cream for lunch.”
“Lunch?” Sebastian paused midstride over the threshold. “How long are you going to work for?”
“Why?” A challenging light flickered in her direct stare, and she arched an eyebrow. “Not up to making lunch for you both?”
He opened his mouth. Hell, when was the last time he’d made his own lunch? Or food for anyone else, come to think of it? When working on set, he always ate with the cast and crew from the catering truck, and when between films, he just ate out or ordered takeout.
Cody looked up at him. “Can you cook?”
“Sure.”
No. He couldn’t. Not to save himself. At least, he didn’t think he could.
Cody snagged his wrist and pulled him into the house. “Yay. You can go now, Mum. Love you.”
Grace hesitated. Worry swam in her eyes as she swung her gaze from Sebastian to Cody and back to Sebastian again. “Please…”
Please what? Jesus, she looked beat. Defeated somehow. It didn’t sit well on her. He remembered her feisty bite when he’d teased her all those years ago. Remembered how often she’d shut him down with sharp words—and sometimes a swift kick—when he’d pushed her too far. Where had that Grace gone?
Rubbing at her eyes, she shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I’ve got to go. I’ll tell Shelli to get here ASAP.”
“It’ll be okay.” He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Trust—”
She shook him off, glared at him, and then turned to Cody. “Homework. No leaving the house, regardless of what Hart says. And no Macca’s. Got it?”
Cody’s mouth fell open. “So you are Sebastian Hart? Wow. I thought you were but didn’t want to ask in case I was wrong. Is that why you were asking me about him earlier, Mum?”
She’d been talking about him? A wave of delight rolled through him.
“No need for the smug preening, Seb.” She glared at him again. “We’ll talk about this situation when I get home.”
And, after giving Cody a hug, she pulled the front door closed, shook her head again, and hurried deeper into the house. Away. From him.
Squatting down beside Cody, he nudged the boy with his elbow. “She always like that?”
Cody studied him.
“You weighing me up?”
Cody nodded. “You’re famous. Are you being a big brother because you want to help people or because you were told you had to?”
Whoa. Insightful little sod. His publicist had made sure his community service was kept from public knowledge. “Why do you say that?”
Cody pushed his glasses up on his face with one finger. “My mum’s best friend works at Big Brother. She said two types of men become big brothers. Those that volunteer because they are really nice guys, and those that don’t.” He ran a speculative gaze over Sebastian, eyes narrow. “I think you’re the don’t kind.”
“Cody, you are so like your mum.”
Cody’s face split into a wide grin. “Thank you. Now, want to play Mario Kart with me before Shelli gets here? Or can we make a movie? I’ve got an old iMac that’s got iMovie on it.”
Without waiting for an answer, he headed deeper into the house.
Chuckling, Sebastian straightened and scanned his surroundings. What had Grace been doing since he last saw her? How long had it been? Twelve years.
Adding his shoes to the collection of little boy shoes and the one pair of bright purple slip-ons at the front door, he studied the framed photo on the console table.
Grace and Cody at a table, a Spiderman birthday cake with nine burning candles in front of them. They were both smiling, Cody’s wide and full of excitement. Grace’s smile…
Tired. Almost sad. But she hugged Cody with a fierceness Sebastian couldn’t miss.
“So,” he murmured, a tight pressure wrapping his chest. “Where’s Mr. Grace?”
He probably should have listened to Judge Myers when she was outlining Cody Wilder’s family situation. Instead, he’d been scrolling through Rotten Tomatoes, waiting for early reviews to start hitting from the press screening of his latest movie, Samantha and Dave. It wasn’t every day a director released a contemporary, gender-swapped film retelling the Samson and Delilah myth, after all.
“Cody?” He made his way in the direction Cody had disappeared, checking out everything around him. Whoever Mr. Grace was, there didn’t seem to be any photos of him on the walls. What was the story there? “What’s your dad do for a living?”
Arriving in the living room—an area half the size of his bedroom in his Point Piper home—he came to a halt at the edge of a sofa.
Cody was sitting in the middle of it, staring at the television, a Nintendo game controller in his hands, another one on the cushion beside him. Not interacting with what was on the screen. Just…staring.
He frowned. “Cody?”
“Daddy’s dead.”
The statement fell through the silence, husky and somehow broken.
Oh Jesus. Sebastian wiped at his mouth. His heart thumped fast. Jesus, what did he say? What did he do? He didn’t do emotional shit like this. He cut stuff like this from his life. Had done since the second he realized people—his mother, his brother, his friends—would let him get away with it. He didn’t waste time with other people’s problems.
Mouth dry, he swallowed. This big brother deal was…was…challenging.
Cody’s shoulders slumped and the game controller slipped from his hand, thudding softly onto the carpet between his feet.
Talk to him. Grow a pair and talk to him.
Lowering himself onto the spot beside the young boy, he cleared his throat. “That sucks.”
Cody nodded. “Yeah.”
Silence.
Long silence. On the screen, Mario grinned his digitally feverish grin, waiting for someone to press A.
“My dad died when I was five,” he said softly. He hadn’t died. Not as such. Good old high school science teacher Oliver Hart had decided one day he’d had enough of his wife and two young sons and left. Just left. Started a new life in Brisbane with one of his ex-students. Six months later, he’d been arrested for supplying speed to one of his current students. A speed-dealing science teacher. So very Walter White-ish.
That had been twenty-six years ago. Sebastian hadn’t wasted any time thinking about his father since.
Yeah. Right.
Cody stopped staring at the screen and looked up at him. That was good. The screen staring had spooked him. It wasn’t right for a little kid to look so…disconnected. “Were you sad?”
He frowned, the question surprising him. How did he answer? He really couldn’t tell Cody what he thought of his father, that as far as he was concerned, the bastard didn’t exist. For starters, Grace would probably kill him. He’d only known Grace the mother for a few moments, but there was no doubt she wouldn’t want her son exposed to that kind of brutal adult thinking.
Scrubbing at the back of his neck with his hand, he shifted on the sofa. Cody waited, gaze unwavering.
“I was…changed.” Changed. Talk about an ambiguous answer.
Cody narrowed his eyes and then slumped back into the sofa, stare returning to the screen. “Yeah. I got changed, too, when Daddy got killed in the fire.”
Fire?
A hot knot clenched in Sebastian’s stomach. This was not the conversation he’d thought he’d be having with his assigned little brother when Judge Myers gave him Cody’s name and address and ordered him to start ASAP. He’d thought he’d swoop in, wow the unknown kid with his fame, drop as many names he could that a ten-year-old boy would be impressed by, and swoop out again a few minutes later. Easy. Simple. Short.
Superficial. The way he kept everything in his life except his work.
Instead, he was talking parental death with the son of the girl he used to clash with all through his childhood and teenage years. A girl who was now a woman missing the very feistiness of her youth that had irritated him so much. Strangely, that fact pissed him off. A lot.
What the hell was he doing? What the hell did he say next? How the hell did he stop Cody from staring at the television with such desolation? And why the bloody hell was the fact Grace once had a husband filling him with an emotion he couldn’t fathom at all?
“I bet…” Jesus, his throat was dry. “I bet your dad was awesome.”
A small smile pulled at Cody’s lips, sending a flood of warmth through Sebastian. “He was. Mum said he was the best dad ever.”
Sebastian’s stomach knotted more. “Tell me about him.”