Chapter Eleven
EMERY
Sebastian’s chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. Maybe it’s creepy that I’m watching him sleep, but I’ve never really had the chance to justlookat him. Not from close enough that I can make out his every feature, every line, every contour.
Exhaustion weighs down on him, evident by the dark smudges under his eyes. I touch my fingers ever so softly against his cheek, needing to touch him but also not wanting to wake him up. His brows twitch, but his breathing remains even, and I pull my hand away. He needs to sleep, and I can’t help but feel partly responsible for his fatigue. Slipping out of bed with a sigh, I’m careful not to disturb him. When the air hits my naked body, a shiver runs through me, and I suppress a gasp at the pain in my ankle.
Where’s my bag?
Light filters in through the partly open curtains, and I look around the room for the first time. It’s huge. Though given the size of the bathroom, that’s not a surprise. The large king-size bed sits against the middle of the right-side wall, and a long wooden dresser runs along the opposite wall—the same side as the bathroom. There’s a seating area by the windows at the far end of the room, but I still can’t spot my backpack.
Another shiver runs through me, and I wrap my arms around myself before spotting Sebastian’s shirt laid over the long couch-type piece of furniture at the end of the bed. With no other options, I slip into his shirt before exiting the room and close the door with a soft click.
There isn’t much light, and I have no idea which way to go. Without knowing what is in each direction, I turn left, my steps soft against the brown timber floorboards lining the hall. I pass a closed door on my right, but the sliver of light from a room further down draws my attention.
Peering inside the room, I see the light from outside peeking through the partially closed curtains of a large window. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I step inside. A large bookcase lines one wall, and a plush cream rug covers most of the timber flooring. I’m headed to a sizable daybed nestled under the window when a spread of photo frames on the shelves of the built-in bookcase catches my eye.
With a few steps, I’m standing in front of the bookcase. The first frame I come across holds a photo of a young man in some kind of graduate gown. I immediately recognise it as a younger Sebastian, and a smile breaks out across my face at his serious expression.Typical.The next photo over is similar, except he’s not alone. A woman stands by him. Her chestnut brown hair hangs in gorgeous waves, and her pride shines through the photograph as well as her full smile. Whilst his expression is still mostly serious, Sebastian’s lips are lifted at the corners giving the impression of a nearly-there smile, and I have no doubt it’s because of the woman standing next to him.Elena.I only ever saw her that one time at my uncle’s, but the woman in this photo looks similar to my memory of that night.
Moving down the bookcase to a different shelf with a few more frames, I stop to inspect them. The next frame I come to has a younger Elena with a dark-haired, blue-eyed boy, maybe five years old. Their cheeks are pressed together as she holds him, and my heart warms at Sebastian’s shy smile. There are a few more frames on this shelf, but I’m drawn to another one with Elena and Sebastian. This one also features a man I can only assume is Colton Reed since my memory of him from that night isn’t clear.
My heart starts to ache as I look at the family photo, and I pull the frame off the shelf. Elena’s smile is as bright as all the other photos of her. Sebastian is slightly less shy than the other, and he looks a little bit older than in the last picture, maybe six. And whilst Colton’s smile is more reserved, you can see the love for his family in his eyes.
Footsteps pound against the floorboards, and I spin towards the doorway just in time to see Sebastian skid to a stop in the entryway in nothing but a pair of tight briefs.
“Shit, Grace,” he says, dragging a hand through his hair. His shoulders drop as he steps into the room, and his heavy breathing draws my gaze to his bare chest, continuing down his muscular thighs and long legs. “I thought… why didn’t you wake me?” he asks, approaching me, but I’m still distracted by everything he has on display. Not until he’s right in front of me do I manage to pull my gaze back to his face.
“You needed to sleep,” I say.
“I’m fine, Grace.” He sighs, but the extra five or ten minutes of sleep didn’t erase the dark circles under his eyes. He says that a lot, almost too much—I can’t help but feel like it isn’t entirely true. I wish he would talk to me. He spends so much time making sure I’m okay or worrying about me, but who’s taking care of him?
The scratches on his neck draw my attention again, and I know I’m responsible, at least partly, for his exhaustion. “Don’t.” Sebastian tilts my chin up, and this time, I sigh. “What were you doing—” he starts, but then his eyes fall on the photo frame still clutched in my hands, and the pain in his eyes makes my chest ache even more.
“I’m sorry, I…”
“No.” He clears his throat. “Don’t be sorry.” Sebastian lets go of my chin and reaches for the frame—not taking it but just holding it. “It’s been so long since I’ve looked at any of these. Even before… I didn’t spend much time looking at old photos when I visited,” he says.
“You were close,” I say, and it’s more of a statement than a question.
“We were,” he says, still staring at the picture.
“But you weren’t always with them?” I ask, remembering what I’d read in Colton’s file in my uncle’s office.
Sebastian sighs, this time taking the frame from my hand before placing it back on the shelf. However, his gaze lingers on the photograph. “They adopted me when I was four,” he finally says.
“What about…” I start, but I trail off, not wanting to bring up something he might not want to talk about.
“My birth mother?” he asks, reading the question on my face anyway, so I nod.
“She left me. If it wasn’t for the Reeds… I probably wouldn’t have survived,” he says, his brows creasing. I glance at the photo again—of them altogether. A family. A now broken family.
He wouldn’t have survived?
“Come on,” he says before I can ask him any more about it. “As much as I love you in my shirt, it’s cold.” He wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me into his hard body, and I’m reminded he’s practically naked. A shiver snakes through me that has nothing to do with the cold, and the heat from his body starts to seep into me.
Everything feels right when I’m in his arms. Safe. Sebastian presses a kiss to my lips, then leads me out of the room.
Something is different with him. I mean, things have been different since we firstslept together, but after last night, it’s like there’s been some kind of shift. Sebastian said he was sick of fighting whatever this is between us.