Sebastian moves on instinct, sprinting up the hill with long, purposeful strides. He digs through my backpack until he finds what he’s looking for, holding a climbing rope above his head. On the phone screen, someone sits behind a news desk, almost frozen.
“Tie it to the trunk,” Sebastian barks out, tossing one end of the rope my way. I shove his phone in my pocket, the camera facing out. My hands shake. I’m about to apologize for not moving fast enough, but he’s there. Large palms folding over mine. Making a knot and pulling tight. “There you go. That’s good, Quincy.”
There’s no time to ask what his plan is.
I don’t have to.
I see it unfolding in real time: the loop he ties around his middle. The hat he tosses to the side, landing in a small puddle. The swift way he charges toward the vehicle before I can stop him, the water rising from his ankles to halfway up his thighs. Sebastian trudges forward until he’s drenched up to his mid-chest, and I’m not sure I’m breathing.
Sensations I’ve never experienced before take up residence in the space behind my ribs.
Utter and complete fear.
Desperation to help but clueless as to how.
Awe.
The car isn’t far, but it feels like hours pass before he comes to a stop in the water. When he does, he struggles with the driver’s-side door, yanking on it until it gives and he can wedge it open. A bag is slung over his head. A dog is heaved into his hold, and a woman throws her arms around his neck.
I’m afraid to blink, worried if I let him out of my sight, he’ll go under and not come back up. Seconds tick by. The rope pulls taut, and I watch the pair. Sebastian turns back my way, movementsslow like he’s fighting through quicksand. As he gets closer, I see they’re all drenched down to their bones.
The woman looks older, and the dog can’t be more than fifteen pounds. A sob escapes her when they reach dry ground and climb out of the retreating water. Her shoulders shake, and Sebastian puts a hand on her back. Murmurs something soft and encouraging in her ear that has her nodding. That has her squeezing him in a tight hug before pulling away and wiping her eyes.
“Thank you,” she says around a rasp. I finally let out my first breath. “Thank you for saving us.”
“Do you live nearby?” His voice melts to low, commanding. It’s rough and battle-worn. “Can you walk there?”
“Just around the corner. I-I ran out when the winds calmed down to check on my daughter. It’s her first storm with my grandbaby, and I—”
“You should go home. Now.” He hands her the dog and pulls the purse over his head. “Please. It’s going to get ugly out here again with more rain, and you need to be indoors. Don’t leave until you get the all-clear from your local news, okay?”
“Okay.” She nods, face buried in the dog’s fur. “Thank you. You’re an angel.”
She shuffles down the sidewalk, away from the higher water in the middle of the road and in the direction of a nearby high-rise. I blink, vision nearly blurry. Sebastian stretches out his arm and flexes his hand. He smiles my way, but I’ve known him long enough to recognize it’s strained at the edges. Dimmer, frightened. Far from his usual glee.
“Quincy. We’re still on camera,” he says, pressing a finger to his AirPod.
“We are? Shoot. I’m sorry.” I fumble with his phone and pull it out of my pocket, holding it at eye level so he’s back in the shot. “I should’ve stopped recording.”
“It’s okay. Did— Yeah. I’m here. Everything is okay. She’s fine. I’m fine.” Sebastian nods along to whatever’s being said in his ear. “I’m going to find a towel, and I’ll catch up with you after Claudia moves through completely.”
After he finishes with a round of goodbyes and alive, from the eye, it’s Sebastian Dunnsign-off, I hang up. He groans and I move toward him without a second thought. I’m closing the distance between us. I’m fisting his shirt and searching his body for any signs of injury.
I don’t know what I’m looking for. A cut or nick on his arm. A gash on his neck from floating debris. When I find him safe from any marks, a gasp rattles out of me. I’m coming up for air for the first time in days.
“You’re okay,” I whisper, throat scratchy. Words are hard to find. “Holyshit, Sebastian.” I give his chest a gentle shove. He wraps his fingers around my wrists, keeping my hands there. I don’t protest. “What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t. She’s someone’s mom. Someone’sgrandma. I couldn’t just … What if that happened to someone I loved?” He’s trembling when he exhales, long eyelashes fluttering closed. “I’m not a monster.”
A pain in my ass? Yes.
The bane of my existence? Always.
Something harsher than that? Never.
Sebastian Dunn is the furthest thing from a monster, and my heart aches because of it.
I’ve spent years thinking he was selfish. A self-righteous prick who would save himself first and not bat an eye if anyone got hurt along the way, but I’ve beenso fucking wrong.
