Page 14 of A Cold Hard Truth

“Once upon a time,” Remington started, and Sebastian smiled, “there was a boy named Sebastian.”

“I think I know this one,” he mumbled, eyes already heavy. “I don’t like the middle part. Tell me a new one.”

“This is new.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Go on then.”

“There was a boy named Sebastian and he had everything he ever wanted.”

“Oh, you’re right,” Sebastian mused, “I don’t know this one.”

Remington frowned, smoothing his hand over the blanket again, even though it was now covering the highest part of Sebastian’s thigh, not his hip.

“He had everything he ever wanted,” Remington said again, “or so he thought. One day, the boy woke up and realized something was missing, but it was something he couldn’t buy.”

“What was it?”

“Happiness.”

“Who says I’m not happy?” he asked.

“Who says this story is about you?”

“Go on, then. We’ll see,” he pouted.

“He couldn’t buy happiness,” Remington continued, “and so he realized he didn’t know where to find it. He had to look the last place he expected.”

“His bed?” Sebastian arched a brow.

Remington’s fingers pressed into him through the blanket.“Himself.”

“He sounds horribly droll,” Sebastian said, not pleased with the observation or the story.

“He sounds lonely to me.”

“Maybe.”

Remington made a noise in the back of his throat.“Is it true?” he asked. “What Jace said at lunch?”

“Jace talks a lot,” Sebastian said, eyes growing heavy. “What part?”

“That you’re interested in men.”

“I’m interested in seeing if I’m interested in men.”

Remington stood abruptly and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m going to go get you some water, then see myself out.”

“Remington,” he whispered, as Remington walked out of the room. “Was it something I said?”

Sebastian’s eyes closed, the room tilted, and then he was blissfully asleep.

* * *

The room was dim when he woke up, and he stretched, his head pounding with his hangover. He really needed to cool it with the day drinking. After all, he was the one who’d wanted the divorce from Daniella, or rather, she’d wanted it at first but it hadn’t taken much to bring him around. They weren’t a match. She would have been better off with someone like Rhys anyway, so the divorce was a blessing. But the absence of her had put all of his life into sharp perspective. It was as if, for the first time; he was observing his existence as a third party, and he didn’t like what he saw.

Sebastian rolled onto his side and found a glass of water, two ibuprofen, and his phone plugged in to the charger. He didn’t remember much after Remington’s story, and he hoped he hadn’t said something foolish to embarrass himself. As if needing help to get home and into bed to sleep off a champagne and vodka-induced hangover wasn’t embarrassing enough.

He grabbed his phone, and when it disconnected, the screen illuminated the room, a glaring white reminder that he’d slept half the day away. The clock on his phone said it was three in the afternoon, and he swiped the screen open, heart skipping when he recognized one of the alert icons in his task bar.