Sebastian did finally call close to midnight. I’d just gotten back from Tom’s and I’d been so sick with worry that Tom had become concerned about me. I didn’t know how to explain anything to myself, let alone to Tom, except that I was missing Ani, which was true. He’d been very sweet and understanding, and hadn’t balked at all when I told him I was still a little tired from last night and needed to call it a night shortly after the movie ended. He still looked a little green around the gills, too, so that might have contributed to his agreeableness.
“Hey,” I answered the phone quietly as I headed from the bathroom to my bedroom, my face washed and teeth brushed for bed. I bit back my immediate need to ask if everything was okay.
“Tish. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t call earlier.” He sounded exhausted. “I came home first and fell asleep. By the time I woke up, it was almost nine o’clock.” He was drinking something; I heard him swallow several times before he added, “And I had to move Foster and Pete again.”
“Oh no.” I didn’t bother asking him why he hadn’t at least texted to let me know everything was all right. “Is he all right?”
“I don’t know, Tish. He doesn’t seem to be getting any better.” Not just exhausted. Discouraged. Frustrated.
“Is there anything I can do to help? Where did you move him?” I paused a moment, then asked, “Where was he?” I dropped to my bed and rolled onto my side so I could look out the window at the stars overhead. In my mind, my thoughts kept rearranging themselves as I attempted to put the far-too-few puzzle pieces I had about Sebastian into an image that made sense. There were so many gaping holes, and I was really getting frustrated over his careful withholding of personal information. When he didn’t answer right away, I added, “Now that he’s moved, I figured it would be safe to tell me.” There. That was giving him the benefit of the doubt. I would assume he’d simply kept quiet to keep me safe.
Yeah, right.
“I don’t know, Tish.” I pushed myself up to sitting again, something in his voice putting me on edge. “I don’t want you to get involved in any way. This guy isn’t going to let Foster off the hook.” He spoke as if he knew it for a certainty.
“Can’t you go to the police? Shouldn’t you? This sounds really dangerous. I’m worried about all of you.” I grabbed my pillow and hugged it. “And I’m already involved, whether you want me to be or not.”
“It is dangerous.”
“Okay. Now you’re really scaring me. Sebastian, please.” I was pleading now. “You shouldn’t be handling this on your own. It’s too much. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” My voice dropped to a tight whisper. “Especially now that you and I—that we’re—” I broke off, not sure what to label us.
“I know, Tish. I know. But I don’t know what else to do. I’m kind of stuck right now in ways you can’t understand.”
“Try me! I can at least listen, even if I don’t fully understand.” I squeezed the pillow tightly. “Please.”
“I’ll think about it, okay? Not tonight, though.” There was no mistaking the resolute tone and I bit back the urge to rage at him, to beg him, and to plead with him some more. “Let it be enough for now to know that Foster is okay, and so is Pete. And so am I, okay?”
But it wasn’t enough. Because I knew it wasn’t true. None of them were okay. Foster was practically running for his life and now Sebastian had become entrenched in the same danger that was threatening Foster. “Don’t do this alone, Sebastian. You need to at least talk to someone. If not the police, then what about someone else who could help you? Your dad, maybe. Or a pastor?”
He grunted quietly. “My dad can’t help me. And I really doubt a pastor would have even an inkling of what to do for me.” I could tell he was moving, doing something active by the way the sound kept changing in the phone. I was pretty sure he had it pressed between his shoulder and ear. “Besides, I have you to talk to, and right now, that’s all I want.” His movement stilled and he spoke softly, sweetly. “Last night, Tish, every one of the stars I counted had your name.”
Oh, wow. The guy knew just the right words to say to shut me down. “That is the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me,” I whispered, hugging my pillow again for different reasons this time. “Maybe the most romantic thing that anyone has ever said in the entire history of the universe.”
“Wow,” he chuckled. “Even more romantic than ‘I love you’?” Did he just tell me he loved me? No, it was just a question, surely. A valid one. Be still my beating heart.
“Yes, in fact. Love and romance may go hand-in-hand, but they’re not the same thing. When you say ‘I love you’ to someone, you’re acknowledging the metamorphosis of your heart and soul. You can be romantic and stay a caterpillar your whole life. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing; there are some really amazing caterpillars out there, right? But when you fall in love, when someone else holds your heart, your very DNA is transformed, making you into a brand new creature. With wings.” I thought about Ani running off to Italy in her cocoon of sadness, and the gorgeous butterfly she’d become when she’d fallen in love with her Paulo.
“Wow.” This time, he didn’t laugh. “Do you remember the first day I showed up in Mr. Hyde’s class? That first week of February?”
“Of course, I remember. And speaking of that, you were going to tell me—”
“I know,” he interrupted, ever so gently. “That’s what I’m doing.”
“Oh. Okay. Sorry. Go on.”
“Well, I walked in, angry that I had to be there at all, and there you were, staring at me like I was some prize at the fair.”
“I was not!” I flopped back on the bed and shoved the pillow behind my head. “Not even close. I was staring at your—at your—sour face, wondering what kind of bug had crawled up your—”
“Choose wisely how you’re going to finish that sentence, Tish Ransome, lest I decide not to finish my story.” A smile caressed his voice.
“Fine. The floor is yours.” I smiled, too.
“Where was I? Oh yes. Staring at me like you wanted to take a bite out of me.”
“What? No!” That was how he looked at me!
“You were. Deny all you like, but I saw the drool.” Now he sounded smug. If he’d been close enough to do so, I probably would have backhanded him. Or maybe not. I sniffed loudly instead and said nothing.
“Staring at me like you thought it might be worth getting to know me.”
“Now that, Sebastian Jeffries, I admit to wholeheartedly,” I murmured. “In fact, you might as well have read my mind because I thought almost those exact words. ‘I’d like to get to know you, Mr. New Guy.’”
“And that’s why I pushed you away.”
“I’m confused,” I said after a few moments of silence.
“Listen, Tish. Please don’t take this the wrong way, okay?”
“Okaayyy.” Usually when someone prefaced what they were about to say with that request, it meant that was exactly the way I should take it.
“You and I come from very different worlds. You thrive in the spotlight. You’re everyone’s favorite. I, on the other hand, prefer to be invisible.”
“What? You’re The Great Sebastian! You can’t be invisible. You’re gorgeous!” The dark was making me bold.
“Coming from you, that means a lot to me. Especially now, because I know you’ve seen me be pretty ugly and you still let me kiss you.” His voice dropped to almost a purr. “And speaking of kissing you, I really, really, really want to kiss you right now, my little Tenacious T.”
“Yeah,” I sighed happily. “Last night was pretty nice, wasn’t it?”
“I can think of other words I might use to describe it.”
“You’re trying to distract me.”
“Is it working?”
“Sebastian, I want to know what I did wrong. What I did to make you loathe me.”
“I never loathed you. And you never did anything wrong. Let’s get that straight right up front, okay?” He spoke firmly, almost admonishingly.
“Could have fooled me.”
“Tish. Let me explain to you why I was there, okay?” I heard him take a solidifying breath. “One day, this wannabe cowgirl and her daddy wandered into the feed store where I work—Stodders out on Birch—to pick out the tack she wanted for the new horse he’d just given her for her birthday. I think she must have added “stable boy” to the shopping list, because the following week, Mr. Jensen backed his truck up to the hay bale tower where I waited with hay-hooks at the ready. Instead of sitting in his cab while I loaded his eight bales, however, he climbed out and offered me a part time job mucking stalls and feeding horses at his hobby ranch on the outskirts of town. I knew nothing about horses, but I knew something about the ridiculous amount of money he was offering, mainly that it wasn’t an amount a nineteen-year-old kid from the rough side of town could afford to turn down, especially since I could keep my job at Stodders, too.” As he talked, his tone changed, went from gentle and intimate to flat-affect, maybe even a little self-deprecating. I didn’t like hearing it that way.
“I learned a lot more about girls than I did about horses during the months I worked for the Jensens, especially spoiled daddy’s girls. Debbie was… fearless. And extremely manipulative, and because of where I’d come from, she was my first real experience with women who knew what they wanted.”
“Are you sure you want to tell me this? Because I’m not so sure I want to hear it.” I laughed shakily, but that was the straight up truth. I didn’t ascribe to the air-the-past-so-there-are-no-secrets-between-us-and-we-can-start-with-a-clean-slate-now theory. To me, it seemed to have just the opposite effect. Like piling a bunch of stinking, rotten food on the clean plate of a new relationship.
“It’s ugly, but this isn’t about old girlfriends, okay?” He spoke earnestly again, and I could tell he wanted me to understand.
“Okay.”
“When she realized I wasn’t really interested in the duties she’d assumed were part of my job, it was like I’d been thrust into the eye of a hurricane; one wrong step with her would send me spinning out of control. I stuck it out for as long as I could because of the money. I bought my car with my stable boy earnings, if that tells you anything. But for someone whose whole life had been one out-of-control ride after another, I couldn’t take it for long. So, after almost six months of weekends with the devil, I did the right thing by her daddy and gave him my two-week notice. I naively thought I was doing the right thing by Debbie, too, by giving her a two-week notice. Those two weeks rivaled every wild ride I’d ever been on in my short life, mainly because she didn’t think I’d meant it when I said I was leaving. But I don’t say things I don’t mean, and when my two weeks were up, I turned in my stable keys and I haven’t been back since. And as far as I know, Debbie Jensen hasn’t set foot in Stodders since, although I do see Mr. Jensen on a regular basis, and he’s always cordial.”
“Oh. My. Gosh. You thought I was like Debbie Jensen!” I leapt up off the bed and began pacing the floor. “Was I that awful? I was just trying to be cute. Clever. I was flirting with you, not trying to own you!”
“Tish. Stop. No, I did not think you were like Debbie. Although you did come on a little strong to someone like me who’s admittedly gun shy.” He was teasing me now, but my heart was racing. I didn’t want to ever be a Debbie. Or an Yvette.
“It was while I was there that I met Debbie’s trainer, Heather.”
“Oh, great. I don’t think I can bear hearing another horror story.”
“Patience, Tish.” He sounded more relaxed. Maybe he was in bed. The thought made me a little short of breath. “Heather Finch. Heather took me under her wings—yes, pun intended—and helped me to sort a few things out. She was the reason I stayed as long as I did, in fact. But Tish, Heather was old enough to be my mother, and treated me like a son. It was Heather who taught me to play the guitar, who sat beside me while I discovered how to channel all the pent-up anger and frustration and resentment I’d cocooned myself in for so long into this outlet called music. And it was Heather who introduced me to her boyfriend, Patrick Hyde, a guy who seemed to agree with Heather in thinking I had some kind of special gift.”
“Oh, wow.” I stopped pacing, caught up in the story that had brought Sebastian into my life.
“Heather convinced Mr. Hyde to let me sit in on some of his classes. She knew enough about my circumstances to know that I couldn’t afford to be there otherwise. I went to a composition class the first semester last year. But then over the holidays, the two of them had some kind of a falling out and went their separate ways. Of course, I took her side, even though I had no clue what had happened. But Mr. Hyde started calling me—on my cell and at work—and I finally answered, just to get him off my back. He told me she’d left me her Breedlove guitar, that she wanted me to have it, but I’d have to take one more of Mr. Hyde’s classes if I wanted it.”
“Oh, wow,” I said again. “I think I’m beginning to understand.”
“At first I refused. I wanted nothing to do with him. I was sure he’d broken her heart, you know? Until he told me she wouldn’t take it back. That if I didn’t want it, he was to give it to someone else.” He laughed dryly. “She knew me well enough to hedge her bet that I wouldn’t want that guitar in anyone else’s hands, so I came to class.”
“An angry little boy.” I suddenly recalled the list of things I’d called him written in my notebook.
“Exactly. And when you introduced yourself as Mr. Hyde’s favorite? Titia the Temptress, as much as I wanted to—to—well, Hell would have to freeze over before my pride would let me. But for the rest of the semester, it just about killed me not to talk to you. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
“Wait. What exactly did you want to—to—” I teased him with his own words.
“Do you remember what happened on Tom’s tailgate at about… oh, maybe 10:58 last night?” He was doing that purring thing again, making my skin vibrate just below the surface. It was very nice.
“Yes.” The word came out like a breath.
“That’s what I wanted to do. Right there in the back row of Mr. Hyde’s Music Theory III class.”
“Oh, wow.”
“Yeah. Wow.”