Chapter 31

Sebastian felt his entire body tense. He’d already felt supremely vulnerable when he’d woken up this morning and memories of the night before had filtered in. Naomi had gotten a glimpse into the rabbit hole Sebastian fell into periodically. It was dark and utterly desolate beyond the blood-tipped thorns that kept people from following him down it.

But she’d poked her head in. What was more, now she was trying to pry the damn thing open wider, clearly not realizing it wasn’t actually a hole but a Venus flytrap.

His memories crippled him a few times a year. And while he’d truly thought he could fight the worst of it off this time, he’d been kidding himself. There were some wars he simply would never win.

Sebastian didn’t realize how long he’d been standing there, staring at Naomi, until she muttered a “Never mind” and tried to pull open the still locked door. “Dammit,” she said as her frenzied hands twisted the lock.

He heard the deadbolt snick—a sound that echoed loudly in his head. Before his brain processed his actions, he stepped forward and pressed a hand against the door. “Wait.”

A shudder went through her body before she slowly turned around. “I’m sorry, Sebastian. It’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have asked. Whatever you’re going through…” Her voice trailed off without finishing her sentence.

The scent of coconut wafted toward him, causing him to realize how close he was standing to her. It was comforting, a smell he associated with Naomi because there was always a hint of it whenever she was near him. When she’d become a source of comfort for him he couldn’t pinpoint. But it was there all the same. For so long, he’d resisted his feelings for her. It was easier to be annoyed by her than to like her. But he wouldn’t take an ounce of that back, because without their turbulent past he probably wouldn’t be able to share what he knew in his bones he needed to. She’d spent years seeing the worst in him. He could crack his chest open and show her all of the horror that lived inside, and she likely wouldn’t be surprised by any of it.

Not surprised, but maybe she’d understand. Understand why he was who he was. And in the light of day, that was something he couldn’t deny he wanted. To be understood by his nemesis, who somehow also happened to be the person he was closest to.

Jesus, his life was really fucked up.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he forced himself to take a step back from her. “I don’t wreck my house on a regular basis. Actually, I’ve never done it before. I’m not sure what brought it on.” Though that was a damn lie. Sebastian had felt everything more acutely this year. Sure, the memories always hurt like a bitch, and he’d self-medicated with alcohol to get himself through, but something was different this time. And the only thing he could identify was standing in front of him, looking at him with a concern that made him flush with warmth. “I don’t want you to think I’m prone to flying off the handle or that I’m violent.”

“I never thought either of those things.”

The sincerity in her eyes was obvious, and he was relieved by it. The last thing he wanted was for her to be afraid of him. “And I’m not an alcoholic. I used to struggle with it, but—” He took a look around. “Okay, maybe it’s still a bit of a struggle. But I swear, I haven’t had a drop of alcohol since this time last year. Every year I swear I won’t lapse into self-destructive patterns, but”—he shrugged his shoulders—“sometimes it gets to be too much without it.”

Her expression was open and intent. She was processing his words, but not judging him. At least as far as he could tell. “What’s too much?” she asked.

He took a deep breath before saying, “You asked who C and M were. I met Celeste in college, fell madly in love, and married her before we even graduated because I was worried she’d come to her senses and realize she could do so much better.” A chuckle left his lips as he remembered what a firecracker she was. “She never let me get away with anything.” His eyes had drifted down as he spoke, but they met Naomi’s when he revealed the last bit about his wife.

“Sounds like my kind of woman,” Naomi said with a soft smile.

Sebastian laughed, but the sound was damp and he averted his gaze again. “Yeah, you two would’ve gotten on like a house on fire.”

Naomi smiled wider at that, but her expression evened out quickly as she waited for him to tell her the rest.

“After I released my first book, Celeste found out she was pregnant. The book hadn’t taken off yet, and we were living in a tiny apartment that we could barely afford. We were in no way ready to have a child, but we’d also never been more excited.”

His eyes prickled at the memories that were both fond and painful. “We named him Matthew, called him Matty for short. He was perfect. I couldn’t have dreamed up a better little boy.”

This was the part of the story that drove him to the bottom of a bottle, and he already felt the pressure of the tears building behind his eyes. He hadn’t talked about this in years, but he relived it every day. There wasn’t a moment that didn’t bear the stain of loss. There never would be.

“Matty was born a few days before Thanksgiving, but his third birthday fell on the actual day. We told him the day was his. We’d do anything he wanted. Celeste and I weren’t close with our families, so the holiday was always a quiet one for us anyway.” Sebastian’s voice began to shake. “He asked to go to our special spot, which was a park that had a field of rocks that rang in different tones when you banged a hammer against them. There was also a waterfall he loved. It was a temperate day, so we went.” Shaking his head as if he could dislodge the injustice of it all, Sebastian whispered, “He was so excited. We all were. Laughing and talking.” His chest felt empty as he remembered how full of life they’d all been. “None of us saw the truck coming. The driver fell asleep at the wheel and ran a red light. T-boned the passenger side.”

He saw Naomi’s hand fly to her mouth as she let out a gasp. She didn’t say anything, for which he was grateful. So many people had offered hollow words that didn’t mean anything. What did “I’m sorry” assuage when you’d lost your entire family?

Nothing. Not a damn thing.

“Celeste died on impact, but Matty held on for two days. He was so strong. Fought with everything he had. But his little body just couldn’t hang on.” His voice broke at the end, as did the dam that had been building behind his eyes.

Naomi pulled him to her and he went, folding his larger frame into her so she could wrap him in her arms. He clung back to her, letting his forehead rest on her shoulder.

“I wasn’t even with him. I’d needed emergency surgery and didn’t regain consciousness until after he was already gone.”

Naomi gripped him tighter, and he let her. For the first time in years, he accepted comfort he had no right to, but needed all the same.