Page 9 of The Sun & Her Burn (Impossible Universe Trilogy #2)
SEBASTIAN
“ W hy were you so angry at the restaurant the other day?” Linnea had asked after two hours of showing me up on her shortboard, carving through the water as if she had been born to ride the waves.
We were mostly just bobbing in the ocean past the break, feet dangling in the cold, wetsuits rolled down to our waists so we could catch some winter sun on our skin.
It was hard not to stare at her, the salt crystals and droplets glistening on her tanned skin like jewels.
Her hair was darkened to flax and pushed away from her forehead in a way that highlighted her huge eyes and dark brows, her cheeks and lips pink from the excursion.
Though she was slender, she had large breasts that were barely contained in the small white triangles of her bikini, and it took every ounce of my willpower not to admire them like a teenage boy.
She was so unlike Savannah or any of the women I had dated since, whose femininity was cultivated beautifully, like a piece of orchestra music, a collection of notes and instruments built together in perfect harmony.
Linnea was just herself, so without artifice that she reminded me of myself when I had first moved in with the Meyerses.
It hurt a bit, that constant reminder of how young and foolish I’d been, but it was healing too because nothing about Linnea was foolish.
Her lack of airs was deliberate, not a consequence of youth, and she was utterly confident in herself, sitting barefaced on a board or done up in a trendy LA bar.
Her beauty was as natural as the sun shining above us in the cerulean bowl of the sky and the glitter of blue water below.
She liked herself, it seemed, and when so many people struggled to feel the same, it was intoxicating to be around.
It made me like myself a little more, too, somehow.
“I was being interviewed by a woman I considered a…friend until she informed me of some rather salacious gossip about an old acquaintance,” I admitted.
Linnea rested her hands behind her on the board, tipping her face farther into the sun the way one might do in a shower, to saturate herself in it.
“What was it? You don’t have to answer, but you know I have to ask,” she paused to dip her chin down and offer me a cheeky grin. “I’m an invasive species. I want to know everything.”
“About everyone?” I teased.
“About you,” she countered with a slight shrug. “About the people I care for.”
I swallowed thickly, surprised by my desire to share with her when I knew my history was better served staying buried six feet deep in the past.
“There is a rumor going around about Adam Meyers,” I said quietly. “It was hard to hear.”
“Oh,” Linnea’s brow furrowed as she adjusted on the board, sweeping her legs back through the water as she adjusted to sitting on her knees, her balance so perfect that she barely wobbled. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything you can do to help him?”
I snorted. “He would not want my help. We haven’t spoken in… Dio mio , ten years.”
She cocked her head, squinting at me through the harsh sunlight. “Are you sure? I know that I wouldn’t have turned any friend away when I first arrived in Los Angeles, alone and new in a city that overwhelmed me to take care of a mother who barely tolerated me even when she remembered me.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t around for you.”
“But you were,” she countered. “You sent me postcards every couple of weeks, and they always made my day. Just because someone isn’t physically with you doesn’t mean they aren’t there for you in a hundred other ways that matter.”
I swirled my feet through the water to get closer to her, reaching out to catch the edge of her board.
She instantly swiveled to sit on her bottom and drag her long legs over my board, effectively locking us together.
I reached for her foot without thinking, cupping the high arch in my palm and giving it a squeeze.
A little shiver rolled up her spine, a spark of electricity I felt mirrored in my own.
I wanted her badly, with a kind of intensity I hadn’t felt in years.
It shouldn’t have been shocking, really. She was stunning and inherently sensual, sweet and funny and candid in a way that made me feel both nostalgic and safe.
But even as the realization occurred, I shoved that desire into the deepest recesses of my gut.
There was no way I could fool around with Linnea and risk jeopardizing our friendship.
And the truth was, that part of me that had yearned to love and be loved had calcified around the memory of two people who were inaccessible to me. I had tried to move on for ten years and failed enough to know that it just wasn’t in the cards.
The idea of soulmates was so romantic until you realized that there might be one—or two people—meant for you, but you might not be meant for them in return.
There was someone out there for Linnea who could love her without ghosts interfering with the level of worship she deserved.
So I squeezed her foot, then set it down beside me.
“Adam wouldn’t want to see me,” I repeated. “Just trust me on that.”
“Because you had an affair with his wife?”
I startled so badly, I almost slipped into the ocean. When I recovered, I looked up to see her watching me with those purple eyes, wide and knowing.
She shrugged. “Miranda would talk about it on the phone with Bobbi and Savannah. I don’t think Savannah ever confirmed it, but it seemed like an open secret between them. The lady and the driver. Miranda used to have a laugh about it.”
Linnea rolled her eyes at that, then nudged me in the side with her foot.
“Don’t look so scandalized, Sebastian. You’re the one who had the affair, not me.”
I was startled into chuckling, shaking my head at her. “You never mentioned it back then.”
“Neither did you,” she countered with a raised brow. “I was always curious, but you seemed so much older and wiser than me even though you were only three and a half years older. I didn’t want to scare you off.”
“Never,” I said solemnly, tugging on her big toe. “I mean that, Linnea.”
“I get that now,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “But sixteen-year-old gawky and awkward Linnea did not.”
“You are certainly not gawky any longer,” I quipped.
Her grin was wide and wicked, a knowing gleam in her eyes as she reached up to cup the underside of her breasts. “Karma for being a late bloomer, I think.”
I laughed again, undone by her candor. “You can ask, now. If you’d like. I cannot promise to answer everything, though.”
“Was it an affair, then? I wouldn’t blame you. Savannah has always had this…aura about her. A regality that makes her desirable and unattainable at the same time. The two of you would have made sense together.”
I hadn’t spoken about the Meyerses in so long that for a moment, I wasn’t sure I could find the words even though I yearned for the catharsis.
“I had a close friendship with Savannah,” I confessed.
“I fell in love with her before I even truly knew her. I’m not sure you could call it an affair because Adam knew about it.
” And participated freely , I thought but did not say.
It wasn’t that I distrusted Linnea, but in light of the gossip swirling about him already, I didn’t want to take the chance when I didn’t have to.
“We were friends, too, though. I loved him in my own way, and I was devastated when they chose to let me go.”
“You miss them,” she said, a little surprised. “I can hear it in your voice.”
I shrugged one shoulder and scrubbed a hand through my wet hair. “Yes. Nearly every day. Savannah was Savannah, but Adam was the best mate I ever had.”
“You should call him,” she declared. “Really, Seb, what is there to lose? Worst-case scenario, he doesn’t answer or he tells you to fuck off, but you’re already there .
Best case, he’s grateful you reached out when so many others are probably scattering like locusts in the face of tabloid gossip. Best case, he misses you, too.”
He misses you, too.
The idea of that made my stomach clench so hard, I thought I might vomit.
It seemed wildly outlandish, but I couldn’t stop a kernel of hope from taking root in the fallow field of my heart.
“Maybe you can understand what he’s going through,” she continued. “Honestly, I was pissed when I opened the door to you this morning, but I feel kind of…relieved now that you know about Miranda.”
“I could help you, you know,” I murmured. “If you’d let me. I would love to do it.”
Her fierce scowl was instantaneous. “Do you mean like a handout? Don’t insult me, Seb. I won’t take your money.”
“You’re working as a server, going to auditions, and trying to work on your designs, all while taking care of your mother,” I countered passionately. “You do not have time to breathe, and you are only twenty-six. You deserve some peace.”
“You call me trottolina for a reason. I don’t yearn for peace,” she argued, eyes flashing, chin tipped pugnaciously. “I yearn for love, and success, and adventure. I’m willing to work hard to earn it all.”
“And you don’t have the time for it,” I pointed out. “You could, if I just hired someone to—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” she snapped, thrusting her finger at me.
I caught it, using her own momentum by tugging on the digit to pull her forward and unseat her from her surfboard.
My free hand caught her by the hip as she tipped forward, catching her and settling her smoothly in my lap, her thighs draped over my own, her hair curtaining us as she stared down into my face with a shock-slack mouth.