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“Always.”
No wonder I’m in trouble.
Eleanor is more and less intimidating than I expected.
By the time Sebastian walks through the door, she’s worked out my sun, moon, and ascending signs, as well as my angel number. I barely know what any of it means except that my being a Pisces explains why Sebastian and I cohabitate well together.
I’m not going to tell her that the life-changing sex is a pretty sweet part of the deal.
“About time you let me visit,” Eleanor chides when they hug. “You’re lucky I’ve been extra busy lately. Otherwise I would have popped by unannounced sooner.”
He laughs, and there’s a moment when they part where Sebastian steps toward me and my heart skips. But where he would usually kiss me, he only touches my shoulder, my back, my arm. Lots of little touches as we move around each other, but not nearly enough to satisfy me. The distance is torture.
This must be what it’s like for Sebastian when Aiden is around.
I hate not being able to touch him.
“You said you stayed in this weekend. What were you doing?”
This might be the longest I’ve spent with the Wolfe matriarch, but even I know a guilty look when I see one. “I might have seen my ex.”
“Toby?” he asks, and Eleanor nods.
Sebastian drops his head—and his voice—into what I fondly refer to as “protective bear” mode. “Mom.”
To my surprise, she laughs and waves him off. “There’s only one thing we’re good at, so I’m going to enjoy it as often as I want.”
“Not something I needed to know.”
“Please. I didn’t raise you to be a prude.”
Sebastian shakes his head. “Never thought I’d miss alcohol.”
“Hush. Now make us another tea.”
There it was again. Us. Part of a unit. A family.
His family.
“What do you think of the house?” he asks as he sets three mugs on the counter.
Sebastian moves with ease and purpose. His hands, always so capable, are a distraction I don’t fight. His button-down is loose, but I know exactly what he’s packing underneath, and it only makes me want to get to it even more.
The slow, hesitant way Eleanor answers grabs our attention. “It’s nice.”
Sebastian turns away from the teapot, bracing himself on the counter. “There’s something you’re not saying.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.”
“Jonathon has a gift for the garden as well. He took it up again a few years back as part of a men’s therapy group he joined.”
Oh.
The comment falls like ashes after a forest fire. It mightencourage new growth, but right now, it’s too much of a reminder of what’s lost.
I want to reach out, comfort him, but the distance between is a picket line I’m not sure I can cross. This feels personal in a way I want to be a part of.
