What if someone’s out there? Should I be alone?
If someoneisaround, wouldn’t they have already tried to hurt us? Why let us sleep through the night? It was probably a neighbor checking on the normally unoccupied house. In hindsight, the smoke from the chimney may not have been the best idea.
Sebastian slaps the last pancake on a dish and places it on the counter. My mouth waters at the rich aroma, and I grab my own plate, stack three pancakes on it, and douse them in maple syrup. I take a bite and moan as the fluffy, buttery goodness melts in my mouth.
I realize that it’s gone quiet, and I look up. “What?”
“Jesus, Fi. Buy it dinner first,” B says, watching me with hooded eyes.
“So much syrup,” Seb mutters, giving his head adisapproving shake. “Anyway, yeah, I think we should leave soon so that we’re back by dark.”
Brantley nods and then glances at me. “Will you be okay?”
“I’ve got books, tea, and cereal. What else do I need?”
Seb frowns. “There’s leftover lasagna from last night in the fridge. Please consider that over cereal.”
“Okay, Dad.”
Seb glares. B snickers before heading to the bedroom to dress.
I step close to Seb, raising myself on my tiptoes. I press my lips to his, and Seb returns the kiss immediately, opening his mouth and allowing our tongues to move together slowly. He leans into me, his hands running up my back and into my hair. He smells like pancakes and earthy spice and citrus. Heat builds between my legs, and I clutch his face as our connection grows more passionate.
Finally, we break apart, and I stare at his flushed cheeks and swollen lips.
“Be safe today,” I whisper against his mouth, and he gives an almost imperceptible nod. “And keep an eye on B.”
He huffs a laugh. “Baby, I’ve had an eye on him ever since he started frequenting the pub months ago.”
My heart swells. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Taking care of him when I couldn’t—when you didn’t have to.”
Seb shrugs. “I think I needed him as much as he needed me back then; I just didn’t realize it yet.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
BRANTLEY
The laundromat smells weird. It’s somehow an amalgamation of body odor and detergent, and it’s making my stomach a bit queasy.
Bastian dropped me off and went to the grocery store, trusting me to do laundry over buying food. I should probably be offended, but the joke’s on him because I’ve ruined my share of white shirts since I started washing my own clothes in college.
I’m sitting on one of the dryers playingPac-Manon my phone when the door dings and Bastian walks in. His cheeks are bright red from the cold wind, which picked up when we got into town. He shakes snow from his coat, stomps muddy slush off his boots, and then shoots me an aggravated look.
I look left and right. “What did I do?”
He walks over to lean against the dryer next to me. He removes his gray toque and runs his hand through his dark locks. “It’s not you. I walked over to the mechanic, and he’s got a sign up saying he’s gone until three.”
“Bummer. And it’ll be dark by the time we hit the road. Should we be driving back in this weather?”
Sebastian stares out the window. The street is mostly empty except for the odd slow-crawling vehicle. “I don’t think we should leave Fi overnight,” he says quietly.
I nod in agreement. “We’ll just take it slow then.” The dryer buzzes, and I startle, almost dropping my phone. Bastian smirks. I ignore him. “Looks like this load is about done, and you already picked up groceries, so what now?”
Bastian shrugs. “I suppose we need to see if there’s someplace open to eat.”
