41

sebastian

 

It was torture, but I was proud of myself, as I spent the evening with Tabby, cleaning up after dinner. Greyson was upstairs, practicing his paradiddles, and there was no sign of him coming down any time soon. There was no reason for me not to make a move—God knows I wanted to. Hell, I probably could’ve and gotten away with it, especially with all of the flirting she kept tossing my way.

But I was laying low. Waiting. I still wasn’t entirely sure she was convinced that I could be the man she deserved. And maybe I wasn’t entirely convinced that I was worthy of her. Still, I was going to try. It just wasn’t the right time. Not yet.

For now, I was enjoying this. Even while my dick screamed obscenities as I watched her bend into the refrigerator with another armful of leftovers.

“I really hope you’ll be taking some of this home,” she laughed, stepping aside to showcase the packed shelves. “The two of us aren’t going to eat all of this.”

“Maybe Jess and Alex would want some,” I suggested.

“Why? You don’t want any? Not even this delicious green bean casserole I apparently made just for you?” Tabby held out the foil-covered dish and shot me a look with a pair of big, hopeful eyes.

She was trying to take care of me, I noted. Either that or pawning off some food nobody else would touch.

I smiled apologetically. “Seriously, I would, but I’m leaving tomorrow, and I won’t be home for another couple of weeks. There’s no reason to load the fridge up with food I won’t eat. And trust me, coming back to the stench of rotten food isn’t something I wanna do for a long time.”

Conceding with a nod, she put the dish back and closed the refrigerator door. “Fair enough. Can’t blame me for trying, but that shit does look nasty when it goes bad.”

“All the more reason for me to leave it with you,” I laughed, heading to the sink and turning on the faucet. “You want me to wash these now, or load up the dishwasher?”

“Um.” She hesitated as I eyed her questioningly. She didn’t want to ask for my help, but I could tell the offer was tempting the hell out of her. “If you could just rinse them off, I’ll put them in the dishwasher.”

“Or,” I opened the washer, rinsed off a dish, and slid it into the rack, “I could rinse them off and load them in.”

“You really don’t have to do that,” Tabby insisted, heading over to stand beside me.

“Eh,” I shrugged, rinsing the other dishes, “it’s not a big deal.”

Then, I don’t know why, but she blurted out, “Sebastian, I’m really sorry that I hurt you. I know I’ve said it before, but I want you to know how much I mean it.” I turned to face her, and she knew she had my attention. “I really didn’t want for that to happen. I just thought you were, uh … immune to that kind of thing.”

“That makes two of us,” I said as lightheartedly as possible. “Why are you bringing this up now?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she leaned against the counter and let go of a rueful sigh. “I don’t know. I guess it’s just that we had such a good time today, and I’m really happy you came, and—”

“And you thought it’d be awkward as fuck because we used to bone,” I offered, smirking as I dropped a fork into the utensil holder.

The mention of sex was enough to deepen the rosy glow on her cheeks, and if I knew I had the permission, I would’ve leaned down and kissed them.

Tabby laughed airily. “Well, since you put it so eloquently … yes, I thought it’d be weird. But it’s not, and I’m honestly really surprised with how mature you are about all of this. I didn’t think you’d ever want to talk to me again.”

I snorted, shaking my head. “Tabby, you realize we basically have a kid together, right?”

Her brows knitted, and her lips pinched. Worry settled into her eyes. “No, we don’t. I mean, once you get your parental rights from the courts, you’ll have the right to never let Greyson see—”

A quick burst of anger ignited in the pit of my stomach as I dropped the spoon I was holding. “Hey,” I interjected, turning my head to flash her with a stony glare. “Listen to me right now. When his mother died, you took on that role, never mind the fact that you’ve been a part of his entire fucking life. So, I don’t give a shit how you feel about me, okay? What I care about is how you feel—how Greyson feels—and there is no way in Hell I would ever take him away from what he has with you. So, do yourself a favor and stop thinking that bullshit.”

Her breaths were shallow, and her fingers worked to pick away her black nail polish. I watched her until she had worked her way beyond being startled and nodded.

“O-okay,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

I guffawed, turning back to the sink. “God, Tabby, don’t fucking thank me for that. I should be the one thanking you.”

“Why?”

“Because you changed my life,” I stated simply with a nonchalant shrug.

It was her turn to snort. “Oh, come on—”

“Hey, I could’ve gone my entire stupid life without ever knowing I had this badass kid in the world. You didn’t need to get me involved. I mean, I know you needed the help at the time, but you guys would’ve been fine eventually. You brought me into it because deep down, underneath all that beige, you felt it was the right thing to do. And because of that, you changed my fucking life.”

“Yeah,” she chuckled with a shake of her head. “I’m sure you’re thrilled that I helped make it harder for you to get laid while at home.”

A low chuckle rumbled through my chest. There was so much irony in that statement. She thought it was Greyson who’d made it difficult for me to get women, but really? It was her.

“I would’ve given up all the pussy in the world to have known him sooner,” I replied honestly.

Because it would’ve meant knowing her as well.

 

***

 

Dressed in her pajamas, Tabby passed a cup of coffee into my hands before dropping down beside me on the couch. “Anything you wanna listen to, or are you good with this?”

I read between the lines as an acoustic version of “Everlong” played through the speakers. The song held meaning, memories and feelings, and with the diversion of her eyes and the tapping of her bandaged fingers against her own mug, I had the suspicion that it was mutual.

“Nah, this is fine. It’s almost over anyway.” I sipped my coffee and slid the cup onto the table. “So, hey, did Jane’s house ever sell?”

Her gaze remained on the coffee in her hands as she twisted her lips and released a sad, weighted breath. “Yeah. Alex actually called me today about that.”

“Oh,” I raised my eyebrows, “that’s a good thing, right?”

“I guess. It just feels really, um … over.”

I quirked my lips into a half-smile. “So, why is this something to look so sad about?”

Shrugging, she continued to pout. “I guess it just feels like the end. I mean, you know I had such a hard year, and trying to sell that damn house followed me throughout all of it. So, knowing it’s now gone is like …” She hesitated, cocking her head and considering her words. “It’s like saying goodbye to the whole freakin’ year.”

My arm stretched out over the back of the couch. My fingers sat inches away from touching her hair. “I would’ve thought you’d be relieved about that.”

“I know,” she said with a slight bob of her head. “I guess I am, but in a way, saying goodbye to that house feels like saying goodbye to every other difficult thing I’ve dealt with this year. Losing my parents, losing Sam, the break-up with my fiancé … getting over all that pain is almost as bad as the pain itself.”

I nodded, relating her situation to the only thing I understood. “I guess I can kinda understand that. I mean, when I thought Sam had gotten an abortion, I mourned for a while. It sucked because nobody else knew about it, so I was left to deal with the whole thing on my own. But in a way, I think not having anybody to talk to about it kinda helped in not thinking about it, you know?” I looked toward her eyes and she nodded, so I continued: “I’d go all day, not giving it any thought. But then, at night, it’s all I could think about. Like, what kinda person would he have become if he’d been given the chance, or would he have looked like me or her, and it hurt so fucking badly, thinking I’d never know. And it felt like I’d never move past that feeling, but one day, I just stopped thinking about it all that much. I don’t even know when it was, but it sucked to suddenly realize that I couldn’t remember the last time I thought about my unborn kid.”

Tabby was silent as she nodded, clenching her fingers tighter around the mug. I wondered what was on her mind, or at the tip of her tongue.

“But I think we’re supposed to continue with our lives, Tabby,” I went on, “and I think that’s why we let go when we’re not even aware that we’re doing it. It’s survival. So, I get why you’re kinda down about the house, and the year being over, but I think it’s also a good thing that you’re moving forward. Because that means you’re surviving, and there’s not much that’s more important than that.”

For the first time since sitting down, Tabby turned to me. A mist glazed over her eyes and the corners of her mouth lifted with a smile.

“You know, I think I’m finally starting to realize that Greyson was right about you,” she whispered.

I narrowed my eyes. “What the hell did that little shit say about me? Because if he mentioned my stash of porn, it’s not my fault he—"

“Oh my God,” she groaned, laying a hand over her eyes and laughing before letting it drop to her lap. “No, that’s not what he mentioned, and for the record, I have no idea why you’d even have a stash of porn when you can get everything for free on the internet.”

I shrugged nonchalantly and grabbed for my cup of coffee. “Attachment issues.”

Tabby laughed with a roll of her eyes, running her fingers through her long, red hair, now kept loose and hanging long over her back. “Greyson said you were one of our good things, and despite comments like that, I think he’s probably right.”

I took a long, slow sip of coffee and watched her intently from over the brim. This moment … it almost felt right. To tell her I was never going to stop loving her, that she was it for me, that a life with her and Greyson was the only life I wanted. But there was still that word, probably. Greyson was probably right.

With the mug empty, I placed it back on the coffee table and nodded. “Only probably, huh?”

Her smile was almost apologetic. “Don’t push it, Sebastian.”

“Nah, you’re right.” I nodded slowly, pulling my arm away from the back of the couch and laying my hand beside her bare thigh.

My eyes dropped to the script etched into her skin, the tattoo I had noticed months before. With a bold touch of my fingers, I traced a line over the cursive text, and read, “’She is freedom.’”

I thought about that, about her, about what the words might’ve meant.

“Hm,” I grunted with a single bob of my head. “You got it over the summer?”

“In August, yeah. While I was in Pennsylvania, after seeing Breaking Benjamin.”

“You were by yourself?” She nodded, and then, I was reading between the lines. Nodding and knowing what they meant. It was her gift, a tribute, to her sister. And the permanent reminder of what Tabby wanted for herself. “I like it. It suits you.”

“You don’t even know why I got it.” Her laugh was awkward. Choked.

“It’s really none of my business,” I replied with a shrug. “And for the record, you are.”

“I am what?” I gave her leg another pat and stood up. Grabbing my jacket off the chair, I headed toward the door, with Tabby hurrying behind me. “Hey, answer the question!”

“Tabby,” I groaned playfully, turning on my heel. “It’s past my bedtime and I still need to drive home.”

The Foo Fighters’ “Walking After You” filtered through the air. In a moment of spontaneity, the acoustic notes drove me to drop my jacket to the floor and wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her close. She was startled as I took her hand, careful not to hurt her injured fingers, and persuaded her body to sway in time with mine. It took a few seconds and then her feet moved on their own, her head pressed against my chest and her hand rested on my shoulder.

She was surrendering, I could feel it, but it still wasn’t time yet. I just needed this, to dance with her, before leaving again and not seeing her for another month.

“You are freedom,” I finally answered, when the song ended and I let her go.

“I’m trying,” she rasped through a throat tight with surprise and conviction.

“Well, you are,” I persisted.

She didn’t press further as I picked up my jacket and ran upstairs to give Greyson a hug. He was already sleeping, passed out on his bed with Dweezil under one arm. Crouching down, I kissed his forehead and smoothed his hair back, wishing I didn’t have to leave again so soon.

Opening his eyes a crack, he mumbled, “Hey Dad. You leaving?”

I nodded regretfully. “Yeah, kid. I gotta get home and try to sleep for a while before hitting the road tomorrow night.”

“Why don’t you just stay here?” His arm tightened around Dweezil as the yellow Lab snuggled closer.

“I’d love to, but uh … I’m not sure it’s the right time for sleepovers again, if you catch my drift.”

“Mm,” he shrugged, burrowing his face further into the pillow. “You could stay in here if you’re too chicken shit.”

Chuckling, I shook my head. “I’ll take a rain check, okay? I’ll see you soon.”

He muttered a “love you, Dad” before closing his eyes. “I love you too, kid,” I replied, kissing his forehead again and pulling his blanket up over his and Dweezil’s shoulders. I left the room and took the stairs again, to where Tabby waited for me by the front door.

“At the risk of sounding cheesy as hell, I’m most thankful for you this year,” she said as she opened the door.

The pounding from my chest rang in my ears like church bells, telling me to seize the moment. To make it mine. But I ignored the thunderous booms, as I smiled and wrapped her in a hug, breathing in her scent one more time before depriving myself for the month.

“At the risk of sounding like a pervert, I’m most thankful to say I’ve slept with you,” I muttered quietly in her ear, and she groaned, shoving me away. I chuckled, cocking my head and rolling my eyes, as I said, “And I guess I’m thankful to know you, too. But you know, not to make you feel bad, but, I’m most thankful for Greyson.”

Her palm smoothed over the leather against my chest. “You should be.”

“I’ll see you soon, Tabby,” I said, turning to head out the door, while wishing I could leave her with a love you and a kiss. But I had been honest when I told her she was freedom. She was mine; the freedom to love, the freedom to break out of my cycle of casual fucking. The freedom to wait and be patient.

The freedom to give her the life we all, not just wanted, but deserved to have.