To get to Sebastian’s grandpa’s house, we have to get on an airboat and cross swamp waters. From the corner of my eye I see something move, and look over to see an alligator.
Oh, my gosh. I am never going to survive being in the south.
Sebastian glances over at me and laughs, but I can’t hear it over the sound of the boat.
It’s really warm here—the temperature is in the seventies. It’s nice, after being in much colder climates. Even though the snow is pretty, I much prefer the warmth of the south.
I look ahead, trying not to think about all the alligators that are in the swampy waters. I see the sun dip down beneath the trees. The sky is a gorgeous array of blues, pinks, purples, and oranges.
It certainly is beautiful here, despite things in the water that most likely want to eat me.
Eventually, Sebastian stops the boat and kills the engine. The dead silence after all the noise makes my ears feel weird. He gets off the boat and holds out a hand to help me.
I’ve never been happier to get off the water than right now.
“Nothing is going to eat me, right?” I ask.
He laughs. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”
Of course he will. He protects me from everything. And I love him for it.
“One of these days, I’m going to be the one to protect you,” I say, as I step onto the grass. I put as much distance as I can between me and the water.
“You won’t have to protect me, but thank you for wanting to,” he says.
I look at the woods ahead of us. “Where are we going?”
He motions towards a four-wheeler. “We’re almost there. Pops is a bit paranoid.”
“Uh, with good reason,” I say.
He gets on the four-wheeler then motions me to get on.
“I’ve never ridden one before,” I say.
“Put your arms around me and hold on tight,” he says.
“What?”
“Put your arms around me,” he repeats.
“Um… okay,” I say, hesitantly putting my arms around him, but still keeping my distance.
This is only slightly awkward.
“Serenity,” Sebastian says, “you’re going to have to hold on tighter than that.”
“But…”
“Just do it,” he says.
I scoot closer to him, wrapping my arms tighter around him.
“Relax,” he says, then starts the four-wheeler.
Relax? How can I relax when we’re so… close? I mean, we’ve hugged before. Plenty of times. But this feels different—more intimate.
Sebastian drives the four-wheeler down a dirt trail. There is a path that is well worn. I’m thinking it’s used often. Thankfully, we aren’t on the four wheeler for long—maybe five minutes—then we pull up in front of a log cabin.
The front door of the house opens, and I look to see an older guy come out with a shotgun in hand. I’m surprised to see how much this guy looks like Sebastian and his dad. I know immediately that this is his grandfather.
Though he is older, his hair is still pretty dark—just small peeks of grey coming through. He also smiles when he sees Sebastian.
Sebastian’s family is so loving. All of them. It makes me wonder how his dad could have ever turned his back on them.
Sebastian gets off the four wheeler first, and helps me off. The two of us walk up the steps onto the porch where his grandfather is standing.
“You’re taller,” his grandpa says.
“And you’re older,” Sebastian responds.
He laughs, then looks at me. “Well, you’re a pretty little thing.”
“Pops, this is Serenity Sinclair. Serenity, meet Pops,” Sebastian says.
“Serenity Sinclair,” Pops says. “I haven’t seen you since you were a baby.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Soto.”
He laughs. “Call me Pops.”
“Pops,” I repeat.
“Y’all come on in,” Pops says, opening the front door.
Sebastian motions me ahead of him, so I follow Pops inside. I’m not sure what I expected on the inside, but this isn’t it. It’s really… nice. And clean.
There is an antler chandelier hanging down in the foyer and giant brown rug covering the wood floors. I notice nobody else takes their shoes off, so I don’t either. We walk in farther, and there is a staircase leading upstairs. To the right, there is a dining room, and to the left, there is a living room.
“Sebastian, you know where your room is if you want to get settled,” Pops says.
“Sure,” Bass says, and turns to me. “Let’s go.”
I follow him up the staircase and down a hallway towards a room. There are two rooms directly across the hallway from each other.
“You can have your own room if you want,” he says. “Or you can stay with me.”
I grin. “After all that grief you gave your mom about being separated.”
“That was different,” Sebastian says. “There you were far away from me. And I didn’t feel safe. I feel… safer here. Plus, you’d just be across the hall.”
“Okay,” I say.
He walks into one of the rooms, so I walk into the opposite side. There is a full-size bed, a dresser with a mirror, and a flat screen TV on the wall. There are two doors, one leads to a walk-in closet and the other leads to a bathroom. The bathroom is joined to Sebastian’s room.
I look in the mirror at myself. My hair is a mess from the drive and my face is slightly pink, probably because holding onto Sebastian on the four-wheeler frazzled my nerves. I let out a breath and wonder what I’m doing.
Sebastian is going to break my heart. Yet, here I am, meeting all his family and slowly falling even more in love with him.
Well, let’s be honest, there is nothing slow about it. I am falling face first into the abyss. And the worst part is I can’t bring myself to care. I love every minute of it.
Saturday, January 6
Population control.
The next morning, I wake up to the smell of something coming from the kitchen. It smells like sausage, but then I remember what Sebastian said about not eating meat while I’m here.
My stomach growls.
I use the bathroom and brush my hair and teeth before going downstairs. I took a shower last night before bed, so I don’t worry about taking one this morning. I know I will be training with Sebastian later and will need one after.
“Something smells amazing,” I say, as I enter the kitchen.
Sebastian is sitting at the bar and his grandfather is standing by the stove.
“Sausage, gravy, biscuits, and grits,” he says.
“Grits?” I ask.
Sebastian groans. “Please tell me you’ve had grits.”
“Never,” I say, taking a seat beside him.
“It shouldn’t surprise me, but it does,” he says. “Grits are pretty much a standard American breakfast item.”
“My family didn’t really do breakfast,” I say, using the term family loosely. “Mom always told me breakfast would make me fat.”
“That doesn’t sound like your mom,” Pops says. “I had her and your father over for Thanksgiving when she was pregnant with you. I’ve never seen somebody so small eat so much.”
“Sounds like you,” Sebastian says, looking at me.
I roll my eyes. “Not my biological mom. I’m talking about the woman who kidnapped me and raised me. I don’t know what to call her. I called her mom practically my whole life. It’s strange to call her by something else.”
“Oh, yes, of course. Michael told me about that,” Pops says.
“You’ve talked to my dad?” I ask.
“Of course,” he says. “He called me a week ago to let me know you guys would probably be stopping by soon.”
“A week ago?” Sebastian asks. “We didn’t even know a week ago.”
“Michael is always a few steps ahead,” Pops says, turning off the burner. “Who’s hungry?”
I look at Sebast
ian, wondering if whatever he’s cooked is safe. He gives me a slight head nod, so I follow him.
We all just grab a plate and load it up right by the stove. I do exactly what Sebastian does. Once my plate is full, I follow him into the dining room.
I take a bite of my sausage, gravy, and biscuit and am shocked by the flavor.
“This is amazing,” I say.
“She’s never had homemade gravy before,” Sebastian says to Pops.
“It tastes nothing like it does in restaurants,” I say.
Pops laughs. “Just wait until you try my gumbo. I got up at four this morning and put it on. You’re going to love it.”
“Pops,” Sebastian says. I can hear the warning in his voice. “You’re not going to trick Serenity into eating a squirrel, are you?”
“Course not,” Pop says.
I’m not sure if I believe him.
Pops is kind of awesome. He has a really strong southern accent. I swear I could just listen to him talk all day. I also see a lot of him in Sebastian. They’re both mischievous, which means I probably should be wary of the gumbo.
“So, what’s the plan for today?” Sebastian asks.
“I’d like to take the two of you gator hunting,” Pops says.
My fork drops from my hand and hits my plate with a loud clank.
“Gator hunting?” I ask.
“They’ve been coming a little too close to the house for my comfort,” Pops says. “I just need to do a little population control.”
Population control.
On gators.
I’ve officially heard it all.
“Don’t worry. I don’t let anything go to waste. I eat the meat and use the skin,” he says. “I need some new boots.”
For a moment, I’m sad for the alligators, but then I imagine an alligator eating me and I’m suddenly okay with these new boots that Pops wants.
“You kids want to come?” Pops asks.
Sebastian looks at me.
I shrug my shoulders.
“Sure,” Bass tells his grandpa.
And just like that, I’m going gator hunting.
Gator hunting.
“There is only one spot on an alligator where you can hit and kill him,” Pops says, as we sit in the middle of his swamp on the airboat. “It’s a small spot in the back of his head. Miss… and he gets angry. So don’t miss.”
I look at Sebastian to see if his grandfather is joking.
He’s not.
“She’s a really good shot,” Bass says. “She won’t miss.”
“Where is the spot?” I ask. “Wait… can’t I just watch you guys kill them? Really, I’m just along for the ride.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Pops asks.
“Yeah, Serenity,” Sebastian says. “I think you’ll like it.”
“You should’ve seen Sebastian the first time he went gator hunting,” Pops says.
“No, not this story,” Bass says.
“Sebastian wasn’t always such a good shot.”
“I was seven, give me a break,” Sebastian says.
“He missed,” Pops tells me. “The gator got real mad.”
“Yeah and I never missed again,” Bass says.
“You shot a gun when you were seven?” I ask, my mouth falling open. “Isn’t that young for something like that?”
“Not in this family,” Pops says, lifting up his shotgun. He pulls the trigger, making me jump.
I look behind me to see that Pops shot an alligator that was swimming towards our boat.
“Is this safe?” I ask, putting a hand over my frantic beating heart.
“Safe is boring,” Sebastian says.
Of course he would think that.
This is terrifying.
Embarrassed.
I shot an alligator.
And, okay, maybe Sebastian was right. Safe is boring. And killing an alligator is kind of exhilarating. Not that I ever plan on doing that again, no thank you. But I’m glad that I did it once. I stepped outside of my comfort zone. It was worth it to see how proud I made Pops.
Getting to know Sebastian’s family has certainly been an adventure. I think I prefer this to running around the world, going to exotic countries. I like family, and Sebastian’s family feels like my family.
“You did well today,” Sebastian tells me. “Pops was really proud of you.”
Sebastian and I are both out on the back deck. There is a swing that faces towards the woods and there is something so beautiful about sitting out here, listening to nature. I could easily fall in love with this state.
I smile at his words. “I love your family a lot. They kind of feel like my family, too.”
“They are yours,” he says. “My family is your family.”
“Please don’t tell me you see me as a sister or something like that,” I say. Because what I feel for him goes far beyond that of a sibling. Not that I know what having a sibling feels like. In Florida, back when I thought Andrew was my stepbrother, it never felt like we were related.
Maybe that’s because he tortured me.
“I do not see you as a sister,” he says, shaking his head. “So never say that again.”
I laugh. “Okay, good.”
“Good?” Sebastian repeats it as a question.
I look over at him to see him watching me. “Yeah, good.”
He sighs. “I wish things were different.”
“Different how?” I ask, pulling my knees up to my chest and hugging them.
“Just… I wish we were at Spy School,” he says. “I wish that you coming to meet my family would have been under good circumstances.”
“What kind of circumstances?” I ask. “Honestly, I don’t think there is ever a perfect time for anything. It happened the perfect way.”
“I just mean… I wish you were coming home as more than just the girl I’m trying to protect from my crazy father,” he says.
“It’s okay,” I say. “Meeting them has been epic, no matter what the reasons.”
“I’m glad that you like them.”
“They feel like they’re my family,” I say.
“They might be one day,” Sebastian says.
I turn my head towards him quickly and he looks at me.
“What?” he asks.
“They might be one day,” I say, repeating what he said.
His mouth falls open, like he’s going to speak, but no words come out. His cheeks get a slight pink tint to them.
“Oh, my gosh, Sebastian. You’re embarrassed,” I say, now smiling.
“I don’t know why I said that,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “I kind of like the idea of us being family one day. Though, you should probably ask my dad’s permission first. Good luck with that. You should also wait a few years, because my dad’s made it perfectly clear that I’m not allowed to get married as young as he did.”
Sebastian just looks at me, almost as if he’s stunned. Maybe he is. I would normally never say anything like that, but maybe his comment has me feeling brave.
I know that he has feelings for me. And he’s well aware of how I feel about him. I’m tired of having him push me away.
“You are so beautiful,” he says, leaning closer to me.
I tilt my head up. I don’t know why I do… it’s just a reaction to him leaning closer. When I do, he takes it as an invitation and he presses his lips softly against mine.
I’ve never been kissed before and I wasn’t sure what to expect, but this… I like this.
Sebastian is gentle with me, which isn’t something I expected. He’s not exactly a gentle person. But he’s different with me. I like it.
My heart is beating way too fast and hard against my chest, and I’m finding it difficult to even think. All I can do is feel. And boy, do I feel. I feel everything—love. Love for this boy. Anxiety, that I’m not a good kisser, though from the enthusiastic way he’s kissing me back, I’m not sure I should be worried. And some
thing else that I don’t quite understand. Desire, maybe? I want to do more than kiss him, which shocks me. I pull away slowly, trying to rein my thoughts back in.
I look at Sebastian, expecting him to say something. Anything. But he doesn’t. He’s just as speechless as I am, which never happens.
“You should probably go to bed,” Sebastian says, after a few more moments. His voice is so quiet that he’s nearly whispering the words. “We have to get up early tomorrow for training.”
Bed?
He wants me to go to bed after that? There is no way that I can sleep.
Sebastian Soto kissed me.
And I liked it.
Overthinking.
I can’t sleep. My mind is running at ninety miles an hour, and I can’t get my brain to shut off. I keep thinking back to the kiss, which makes my heart race. But then I think about what happened after the kiss.
Sebastian told me to go to bed.
And I get it. We do have to train early in the morning.
But what is going to happen in the morning? Are things going to go back to the way they were? With me pining over him and him pushing me away? Except, this time it will be worse, because I know what it’s like to kiss him.
I try not to think of the bad though, only the good. I relive the memory of his lips touching mine. And for a moment, I do allow myself to dream of a future with him. The kind of future where someday, we are together and we get to travel the world.
Of course, there is a chance that he will break my heart. But Sebastian Soto is worth that risk.
I get up and go to the bathroom so I can wash my face and brush my teeth. For some reason, when I can’t sleep, it always seems to help, even if I’ve already done those things.
Tomorrow will be okay. I tell myself the same thing I’ve told myself since I first started running and hiding for my life.
Everything has to work out, right?
Sunday, January 7
Training.
Sebastian and I have been training for just over an hour. Usually, I have quite a bit of stamina. We ran five miles and have been practicing some fight techniques, but I am slow today for some reason.
“Block,” Sebastian says, stopping his hands from punching me. Again. “Why aren’t you blocking?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t sleep well last night,” I say. “I’m tired and can’t focus.”
“Why couldn’t you sleep?” he asks, lowering his hands to his sides. That means that we’re done. For now, at least.
Losing Me Page 9