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Chapter Twenty-Four

M y head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton and left out in the sun too long.

But my body feels safe and warm, more comfortable than I've felt since before Callan’s accident.

That’s when the room around me registers; a scent I’d know anywhere is wrapped around me, and a presence that is equal parts frustrating and enamoring.

When I lift one eye open, Sebastian is right there.

I groan, the sound scraping my throat. Shit.

My first instinct is to untangle my hand from his, slip out of this bed, and run like hell. But then he grazes the soft spot between my thumb and index finger, and I melt a little deeper into the sheets.

His eyes are still closed, lips parted slightly. He looks…peaceful. Which is rare for Sebastian. He’s usually always braced for a fight.

I can’t deny he was a perfect gentleman last night. I remember every single detail.

He showed up for me. Brought me back here and took care of me. Not once did he try to take advantage of the situation. If anything, I was the one coming onto him.

A wave of humiliation ripples through me. God, I was so forward. Maybe a little dramatic and annoying. Scratch that, I was definitely annoying.

Still, it was a good night. And waking up next to Sebastian isn't so bad.

One eye opens and the corner of his mouth tugs up in a lazy grin. "Morning, Little Lamb."

I tuck my chin down, saving him from my rancid breath. "Morning," I whisper, my voice hoarse from sleep and mojitos.

He doesn’t say anything right away. Just stares for a second, eyes roaming my face like he’s memorizing it. Then he lets out a breath and stretches, his hand still loosely wrapped around mine.

"Head pounding?" he asks, his smile deepening with a hint of amusement.

"Feels like there's a damn jackhammer in my brain," I admit.

He chuckles and squeezes my hand once before finally letting go. "Come on. I've got an extra toothbrush so you can scrub the puke residue off your tongue."

I groan and cover my face with the blanket. "I still can't believe I puked."

"Oh, you did," he says, already climbing out of bed. "You also called me a knight and begged me to shower with you."

"Stop talking," I grumble from under the covers.

"Just speaking the truth." His laugh follows him to the bathroom.

Dragging myself out of bed, my bare feet pad across the cold floor into the bathroom. Sebastian’s already at the sink, brushing his teeth in nothing but a pair of gray joggers.

He smirks at me in the mirror before reaching into the drawer and pulling out a toothbrush still in its packaging. He tosses it to me and points to his toothpaste on the counter.

I catch it against my chest. "Do you stockpile these for all your sleepovers?"

He spits, rinses, and wipes his mouth with a towel. "You’re actually the first person to sleep in my bed in at least a month."

I bark a laugh as I unwrap the toothbrush. "Wow. A whole month. You poor, deprived thing."

He shrugs one shameless shoulder. "What can I say? It’s been a dry season. Hockey keeps me busy."

I shake my head, smiling as I brush my teeth beside him, watching his reflection. "You always this charming in the morning?"

"Only with the ones who puke on me."

I nudge him with my elbow, foam forming at my mouth. He glances at me and smiles just enough to knock the air out of my lungs. It’s strange how normal this feels, how comfortable I am here.

Once I'm finished, I go to drop the toothbrush in the trash, but Sebastian grabs it before I can.

"What are you doing?" I ask with a sideways glance.

He drops it into the toothbrush holder beside his with a crooked smile. "Just in case."

My stomach flutters a little bit, but I shove the feeling aside.

Taking a step back, I catch my reflection in the mirror. I look like death warmed over, but I have to admit, Sebastian's shirt looks pretty damn good on me. Can’t say the same for his boxers, though. They’re clinging to my hips like they’re hanging on for dear life.

Once I finish brushing my teeth, I meet Sebastian’s gaze in the mirror.

"I need to go somewhere today," I say, turning to face him fully.

His brows lift. "Where?"

I shake my head. "Can’t tell you that yet."

He folds his arms, chest tightening. "That doesn’t work for me, Little Lamb."

"I’m not asking for permission, Sebastian," I say softly. "I just need you to trust me. Don’t send any of your other goons after me. Just let me do this on my own, please."

He stares at me for a long beat, tension radiating off him. Then, finally, he sighs. "You get into trouble, you call me immediately."

I nod. "Promise."

He doesn’t smile, but his eyes soften just a sliver.

I give him a grateful look and head to Callan’s room. The scent of his cologne still lingers faintly, and for a moment, guilt pinches deep in my chest. My hand trails across the mattress and I picture Callan here, grinning up at me with one arm tucked behind his head.

Part of me misses him, but part of me is still back in that room with Sebastian.

Refusing to let the intrusive thoughts get to me, I slip into the attached bathroom and take a quick shower, rinsing off last night’s chaos and this morning’s emotions. Once I’m dressed in a pair of bootcut jeans, sneakers, and a Rosewood hoodie, I head out quietly without saying goodbye again.

The drive to my uncle's office is long and quiet. It's actually pretty nice, something I’ve been needing but didn’t realize until I finally broke free of the hockey house. My hangover hums at the base of my skull, but it’s manageable, thanks to the gallon of water I chugged before leaving.

My phone buzzes from the holder on my dash and I glance over to see that my dad is calling.

My stomach flips. Hopefully Uncle Dave didn't mention anything about me bringing fingerprints to him.

Reluctantly, I answer, trying to sound composed. "Hey, Dad."

"Avery," he says cheerfully. "How's everything been?"

Small talk. My worst subject.

"Been good," I tell him. "How's…your new life."

He pauses, likely letting my sarcasm slip before saying, "Everything is well here. I just wanted to talk about Thanksgiving plans."

"Oh. Yeah, umm…I don’t think I’ll be able to make it this year."

There’s a beat of silence. "You always come home for Thanksgiving."

"Well, this year’s different," I say, trying to keep my tone even. "I have a lot going on."

He hums like he doesn’t believe me. "Dina is going to host and she was hoping to finally meet you."

"Wonderful. Will her darling little daughter be there, too? Or is it her dad's holiday?" Sarcasm drips from my tone. I don’t want to meet them. I don’t want to play this game where we act like my mother doesn’t exist and isn’t just a short drive away.

"She'll be there. In fact, Grace has a cheer competition the day after Thanksgiving. You should see this routine, Ave. The girl’s got talent."

I grip the wheel tighter. "Yeah, well, I have a competition this Sunday."

He hasn’t been to my last two shooting competitions, but he's seen Grace’s routine enough to know she’s talented. It’s like he left me in the past with my mom and I don’t want to be a pity call anymore.

"Right. Right. You mentioned that." He clears his throat. "I’ll be there."

I force a breath. "Sure you will."

Silence stretches, thick and awkward.

"Have you been up to see Mom lately?" I ask.

Another pause. "Haven’t had time," he says too quickly. "Work’s been chaos."

"Of course. Grace’s backflips take priority."

"Avery."

"I gotta go," I interrupt. "Enjoy your Thanksgiving. Maybe I'll see ya at Christmas." I don’t wait for his reply. I end the call with my jaw clenched.

I'm not going to let my dad or his new life get to me. I've got my own shit to take care of.

When I get to Uncle Dave's office at the forensics laboratory in Eaton Rapids, I stretch my arms up, hitting the roof of the car as I release a drawn-out yawn.

It’s been a while since I’ve taken a ride with the windows down and wind in my hair while pretending for a minute that life isn’t a full-blown dumpster fire. It was going well until my dad called and now I feel a little derailed.

I kill the engine and drop my keys into my crossbody purse before heading inside. Hopefully this helps my mood because I'm getting sick of always being pissed off or hurt. The only one who seems to make me feel like I can laugh is Sebastian, and even then half of it is pure sarcasm.

Uncle Dave is already waiting in the hallway outside his office.

He looks the same with his salt and pepper hair shaved short and a matching light stubble on his chin.

His arms are crossed over the chest of his pressed polo shirt and I immediately notice that familiar smile on his face.

Anytime I pouted as a kid, that smile could pull me right out of it.

"Hey, kiddo," he says, pulling me in for a quick hug.

I wrap my arms around him and let myself lean into it for a second, just long enough to feel like that carefree girl again. "Good to see you, Uncle Dave." I smile. "Thanks again for doing this."

"Like I said, anything for my favorite niece." He ushers me inside his office, and I dig into my purse, pulling out the hockey puck sealed in a plastic baggie.

"It’s been handled by a few people," I explain, handing it over. "I jotted down their names and included them in the bag. If there are any prints that don’t match, I need to know."

He nods, examining the puck through the bag. "You really think someone’s just pulling a prank?"

I hesitate, then nod. "Yeah. Just…humor me, I guess?"

He gives me a long look but doesn’t push. "Alright. I’ll run it myself. Should have something in a couple days, maybe sooner."

I wrap my arms around him again. "Thank you. This really means a lot."

Uncle Dave moves around his desk, caging me into another hug that threatens to have me crumbling right here. The pressure of the hockey house, Callan, my father, my mother. The weight of everything around me feels like too much.

He squeezes me tight and when he lets me loose, some of that pressure seems to fade. "Be safe, Avery. And call me if anything feels off."

"I will," I promise, stepping back.

As I head out, I exhale slowly, the weight of it all starting to come back with every move I make. I climb into the car, start the engine, and head back toward the hockey house. The benefit event is tonight, and I've checked all the boxes on my list of things to do. All except one…

Figuring out what the hell I'm going to wear.