Page 58 of Forbidden Sins

ESTELLA

I wouldn’t have thought I could sleep, but the pain in my side and my utter exhaustion must have won out, because when I open my eyes again, it’s dark out. I push myself up to a sitting position, and my stomach growls loudly.

Beside me, Sebastian chuckles. “There’s a burger in that bag.” He gestures to a brown bag on the floor. “From a gas station, but I had to grab something quickly. Some mozzarella sticks, too. It’s not wagyu beef, but it’ll keep you going for a while longer.”

“I think it’s fun.” I reach for the bag, fishing out a mozzarella stick. “Maybe I like fried cheese more than wagyu beef. Have you ever considered that?”

Sebastian snorts. “No one likes that more, princess.”

“It’s a novelty,” I shrug. “I’ve had luxurious things and fancy food my whole life. I’ve never had a gas station burger before now.”

“Well, don’t get used to it.” He glances over at me. “I might not be able to keep you in fine mafia princess style when we’re settled down somewhere, but I can definitely do better than this.”

“A beach house in Costa Rica, maybe,” I say dreamily. “Fresh seafood every night. I could get used to that.”

“I could, too.” Sebastian reaches over, squeezing my hand, before turning off on a side road that leads into a forested area.

“Where are we going?” I ask curiously, munching on another mozzarella stick. I need to take more painkillers, I know that for sure. My side is screaming at me.

“I figured out where there’s a hunting cabin off the beaten path. This time of year, no one should really be using it. We can spend the night there.”

The road gets narrower, deeper into the trees, until I finally see the shape of a small log building.

Sebastian parks behind it, helping me out as he grabs our things, ushering me quickly into the cabin.

I sneeze immediately from the dust, and I can see that there’s no furniture—and apparently no electricity, since Sebastian is busily finding and lighting a hurricane lamp.

But I see a bed and a fireplace and a small table with chairs, and right now that’s good enough for me.

Sebastian moves to the window, peering out cautiously. "I don't think they followed us this far. But we can't stay long. Tonight, and then we’ll get on the road again as soon as we’ve gotten some sleep."

It’s started to rain, the drops pelting against the roof and sides of the house with a soothing sound, and it’s chillier here.

The interior of the cabin is musty and warm at first, but as I sink into one of the chairs at the table and finish the last of my gas station dinner, it rapidly starts to cool.

Sebastian starts to build a low fire in the fireplace, and I watch him, trying not to wince every time I move.

The pain in my side has gotten worse, not better, and I'm starting to worry that something might be wrong with the wound.

But I don't want to say anything—not when we're finally somewhere relatively safe, not when Sebastian already looks so worried.

"You should take more painkillers," he says, glancing over at me from where he's crouched by the fireplace. The warm glow of the flames illuminates his face, casting shadows that make him look even more ruggedly handsome than usual. "I can see it in your face, princess. You're hurting."

"I'm fine," I lie, but I reach for the bottle of ibuprofen anyway. My hands are shaking slightly as I twist off the cap, and I hope Sebastian doesn't notice.

He does, of course. He notices everything. In two long strides, he's beside me, taking the bottle from my hands and shaking out three pills. "Here," he says, his voice gentler than I've ever heard it. "And don't tell me you're fine when you're not. We're past that now, aren't we?"

I take the pills with a sip of water, nodding. "We are. I'm sorry. It’s just...it hurts more than it did earlier."

Sebastian's brow furrows with concern. "Let me take a look at it."

I lift my shirt, wincing at the movement. Sebastian carefully peels back the gauze, and I hear his sharp intake of breath before I can see the wound for myself.

"That doesn't sound good," I say, trying to keep my voice light.

"It's a little red," he says, which I know is an understatement, both from how it feels and the tone of his voice. "Might be getting infected.”

I glance down, and I can see that his jaw is tight with worry.

He gets up, going to fetch the first aid kit, and applies fresh antiseptic and a new bandage after cleaning it carefully.

His touch is so gentle, so at odds with the deadly precision I'd witnessed earlier when he was shooting at Vito's men. It’s one of the things I love about him, I realize, as I watch him.

That he can be both fierce and tender, brutal and loving, all at once.

I should tell him that, I think dizzily. When I’m not so tired. When it doesn’t hurt so much.

Sebastian stands up, putting the first aid kit back together, and when he looks back at me, a fresh wave of worry crosses his expression. “Estella?—”

He comes back over to me, pressing his hand against my forehead, sucking in a breath as he does. “I thought you were just warm around the wound from the potential infection. But you’re running a fever.” He frowns, touching my cheeks and throat. “How long have you been feeling like this?"

“Just for a little while,” I admit. A wave of dizziness washes over me suddenly, and I close my eyes, trying to shake it off. "Maybe a little earlier. I thought it was just from... you know." I attempt a smile, but it feels weak even to me.

Sebastian frowns, the crease between his brows deepening.

“Shit. This is worse than I thought.” He glances over toward the bed.

“I’m going to make sure the bedding is clean.

And then you need to lay down. Shit ,” he curses again.

“You need antibiotics. But there’s no way to get any. We can’t risk a hospital.”

Fear ripples through me. I know I’m sick, and with the acknowledgment of it, all the symptoms that I’ve been trying to fight come rushing in—my oversensitive skin, the ache in my bones, the exhaustion that’s pressing down on me like a heavy hand.

“Am I going to be okay?” I ask weakly, and Sebastian curses again.

“Yes, princess,” he says firmly, checking the bed and then coming back to me to pick me up from the chair carefully. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promised, remember?”

“You can’t shoot…germs.” I try to laugh, but it feels too difficult.

My eyes slide closed, and I hear Sebastian murmur something that I don’t quite make out as he sets me down on the bed, tugging the covers over me.

It’s far from the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in; even the roadside motel beds were better, but right now it feels amazing.

The last thing I feel before I drift off is the cool touch of a damp cloth on my forehead, and the last thing I hear is Sebastian’s voice, whispering my name.

—

I drift in and out of consciousness, caught in a fever dream where past and present blur together. Sometimes I'm back in my father's house, sometimes I'm in the car with Sebastian, sometimes I'm somewhere I've never been before—a beach house with white curtains billowing in a salt-scented breeze.

In every instance, I hear Sebastian’s voice. Sometimes he's talking to me, sometimes he's just talking—as if he needs to fill the silence, as if he's afraid that if he stops, I might slip away for good.

"...should have told you to stay in the car instead of hiding..."

"...hang on, princess, just hang on..."

"...never should have let you come with me..."

That’s what I cling to, all through the hot, feverish night. Sebastian's voice, close to my ear, raw with emotion, whispering words that could be real, or could be a dream.

"I love you, Estella. I said I fell in love with you that day I saw you painting in the sunroom, but the truth is that I've loved you from the first moment I saw you, and I was too much of a coward to admit it.

I told myself it was just lust, just attraction, but it was always more.

And now I might lose you before I ever really had you, and it would serve me right for being such a fool. "

His voice is so full of yearning, so full of pain, that I want to reach for him and pull him close.

I want to tell him that I feel the same way, that I think I loved him from the very start, too, but my lips won't form the words.

I feel his hand in mine, his lips against my forehead, and the cool cloth against my cheeks and neck, and then darkness claims me again.

When I wake up, the rain has stopped, and it’s afternoon out.

I can see the light coming through the small gap in the curtains, and the cabin feels close and warm, which seems like a good sign.

Last night I was freezing, despite the fire and blankets, and the fact that it couldn’t really have been that cold in the cabin, given the time of year.

“Sebastian?” I whisper his name, weakly, turning my head. My whole body hurts, still, and I feel like I’m drenched in sweat. I try to push back the covers, and Sebastian’s hand covers mine. I see him sitting up next to me, and I manage a small smile. “Did you get any sleep?”

“A little. I couldn’t help but drift off a few times,” he admits, as if he committed a crime. “But I stayed awake with you most of the night, dove.”

“You should have gotten some sleep,” I whisper. “You have to drive.”

“You could have died.” He reaches out, pushing a strand of hair away from my face. “I couldn’t really sleep, knowing that. I had to watch you.”

“What about now?” I lick my dry lips. “Can I have some water?”

Sebastian retrieves a bottle from the side table, helping me sit up. He touches my forehead and cheeks, and his hand doesn’t feel as cold as it did last night. “Small sips,” he says, as he hands the bottle to me.