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“I’m sorry.”
The frustration disappears from his expression in a blink. He shrugs. “We’re in a tough stretch.”
A few minutes later, he sets a plate in front of me. A pile of fluffy eggs, speckled with paprika, two pieces of perfectly crisp bacon, and buttered toast, too.
“Let’s eat outside,” he suggests. “It’s a nice night.”
I follow him outside, ignoring how my hand aches. Ignoring how much I want to kiss him in thanks, rather than just say it.
There’s a fire pit out here, plus chairs grouped around a small table. I settle into one across from him, checking out the sky, but it’s cloudy tonight. I can barely see the moon, even though it’s going to be full in a couple days. The warm breeze rustles the tops of the trees, and a bird calls out somewhere in the night.
I take a bite of eggs and promptly moan.
There are scrambled eggs—and then there arescrambled eggs. Jesus Christ. Sebastian grins at me, clearly pleased. He was right, the sour cream brings them to a whole different dimension. I try not to eat like a barbarian, but I’m so hungry it’s difficult. Sebastian, for his part, eats just as fast as me, then goes to grab another beer.
The silence is more comfortable than it has any right to be. I almost relax all the way, relishing in the late-night air and the sharp taste of the beer on my tongue. Sebastian sitting across from me, holding his glass beer bottle by the neck.
It feels… nice. Ordinary, even. As if we texted each other this morning and made these plans, and he’s going to kiss me before we head inside.
I give myself a mental shake. I burned that bridge, and Sebastian’s inherent kindness is the reason I’m sitting here right now. Nothing else. The sooner I make myself believe it, the faster I can move on, and focus on the right things. The stars and my own future, not the man sitting across from me. Pretty soon, he’s going to be playing baseball for a living, and he deserves a partner who is willing for that to be the most important thing in both their lives.
“I don’t think we’re going to make the playoffs this year,” he says.
I wince. “I’m sorry.”
“We’re not hitting well enough. Our fielding is clean, it’s just that the bats are silent.” The grip on his beer tightens. “Including mine.”
“There’s the draft, right? Pretty soon?”
He nods. “July.”
“Maybe you’re just stressed about it.”
“Maybe. Who fucking knows.” He shakes his head slightly. I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. He laughs shortly at some thought of his and sets his beer down. “Mia, what the hell did I do?”
I freeze with my beer halfway to my lips. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. Did I upset you? Did I hurt you? What did I do, to make you decide you wanted nothing to do with me?”
“You didn’t do anything.”
He leans in, close enough our knees nearly touch. I’m drawn to his eyes again. I can still see the depths in them, even in the near-dark, illuminated only by the soft light from the kitchen. We could be in a void, the two of us. We’re the only ones awake in this neighborhood, for sure, past midnight with barely any college kids around for the summer.
“You said you’d tell me.”
I shiver as a strong gust of cool nighttime wind washes over us. It ruffles his hair, but he doesn’t so much as blink. He might be adopted, but the intensity feels just like Cooper’s. There’s something electric about the Callahans. I let myself get drawn into Sebastian’s orbit, and now I’m doggedly following him, even as I try to escape. If he’s the sun, then I’m a comet, burning up from the close contact.
“You didn’t hurt me,” I say. I scrape my teeth against the inside of my cheek. “I just—can’t.”
“Bullshit.” He puts his hand on my knee—careful, calculated. Even that small amount of contact has my stomach clenching. My knee is cold, and his hand is warm through the leggings. It would be warmer still on my bare skin. If he dragged his hand up several inches, he’d be dangerously close to a part of me that’s silently begging for contact. “You cared about me. About us. Tell me what changed.”
Nothing changed. I just tore myself away before the inevitable crash. And admitting that would hurt worse than locking myself in Izzy’s room for the night.
But he’s so close, and I want his warmth. I lean in too, and some part of me sings with satisfaction when I hear his breath hitch.
We could kiss so easily.
Then he pulls away. Gathers himself up. Disappointment hits me like cold water to the face, but I pull back too.
