JollyRockerTBird: I love that song, you know. I’m sitting on my swing in the backyard. Counting blessings.
SebastianJack: I wish I didn’t have to work tomorrow. I’d be there now.
JollyRockerTBird: Ah. But remember that man you met the other day? The one who introduced himself as my father?
SebastianJack: Yeeeees?
I smiled, hearing him say the word all drawn out exactly as he’d written it.
JollyRockerTBird: He likes to know I’m home at night. ALONE. Helps him sleep better.
SebastianJack: Sounds like a good dad.
JollyRockerTBird: You’re not going to bug me about being old enough to make my own decisions? About being an adult who can do whatever she wants? I knew what his answer would be without having to ask, but I’d been challenged before by guys I’d gone out with a few times who didn’t care for my parents’ house rules. I didn’t care for the rules in the heat of the moment, either, truth be told, but in the light of the following day, I was always grateful I’d said no. And I appreciated the fact that my parents had assured me that I could blame them if I needed to. I didn’t blame them; I gave them credit for wanting to protect me and my passion-driven heart.
SebastianJack: Sounds like a very adult decision you’ve made in respecting your parents’ wishes. And I respect your choice to do so. Was this guy for real?
JollyRockerTBird: Can you talk?
SebastianJack: I can’t. Sorry. Don’t want to wake my dad.
JollyRockerTBird: That’s fine. Can I ask you a question?
SebastianJack: Anything.
Anything. Okay. I took a deep breath and keyed in the question I longed to know the answer to.
JollyRockerTBird: Why were you so mean to me in class?
I watched the three dots telling me he was texting appear… and then disappear. Twice. What on earth would he say? I couldn’t stand it.
SebastianJack: Tish, that’s a tough question to answer in a text. Can we talk about it later? I’ll try to explain, but I think it would be better in person. I’ll call you tomorrow evening after I get off work.
No! Not fair. So close, but no bananas. How on earth was I supposed to wait until tomorrow night?
JollyRockerTBird: Okay. What else was I supposed to say?
SebastianJack: I can tell you this though. I regret it more than you can possibly know. If I could do things over, it would all be different.
JollyRockerTBird: That helps a little. But just so you know, curiosity kills. If you call me tomorrow night and I don’t answer, know that I died of curiosity, alone with my unanswered questions. And it will be your fault.
SebastianJack: Wow. You really know how to land a sucker punch.
JollyRockerTBird: Four brothers. Count ‘em.
SebastianJack: I’ve met two and I think that’s enough for me.
JollyRockerTBird: Nope. Remember what you said about Alejandro? You want me, you get my brothers. My parents. My band. My neighbors. My world. We’re a package deal.
SebastianJack: Wow. That’s a big package.
JollyRockerTBird: Yep. Think you can handle it? ALL of it? ALL of us? Please say yes.
SebastianJack: I plan on giving it my best shot. I hugged my phone to my chest and made a tiny “Squee!” noise up at the stars.
SebastianJack: Tish, I need to sleep. Unloading hay delivery tomorrow first thing in the morning. Less than four hours from now.
JollyRockerTBird: Oh gosh. I’m sorry I’ve kept you. Call me tomorrow after work?
SebastianJack: I will. Maybe you can come with me to see Foster?
JollyRockerTBird: I’d love that!
SebastianJack: Goodnight Titia.
JollyRockerTBird: Goodnight Sebastian.
***
Sebastian didn’t call all day. Nor did he answer my call. Or my texts. I tried not to worry. I tried not to be angry. Or hurt. Instead, I ended up in a terrible combination of all three.
Around seven PM, my phone rang, but it wasn’t Sebastian.
“Hey Tom. How are you feeling?” He must have suffered the hangover from hell today.
“I’ve been better,” he admitted. “How are you?”
“I’ve been worse,” I said honestly. He was quiet for several seconds before he continued.
“I’m sorry I was such a pig last night. Will you forgive me?”
“Already have, Tom.” I wondered how much he remembered. I hope it was enough to know he’d had a good time. At least on stage with us. “You really were amazing last night, you know.”
Tom snorted loudly in my ear. “About that.”
“About what?” But I was already laughing. Tom was not a mean drunk, but contrary to popular belief, alcohol rarely made anyone any smarter, and Tom would make a rather endearing poster child for that campaign.
“Thanks for the nickname, you little bilge rat.”
“Um. You deserved it after that little stunt. I could have called you something a lot worse, you know. I have a lot of pirate trash talk on tap.”
“I bow to your superior self-control. But you are missing out. I stand by that.” Oh, but I wasn’t. Sebastian was more than enough for me and my heart to handle. That is, if he was around to handle. Or to at least call me or text me.
“You’re right, Tom. I’m missing out,” I conceded with feigned resignation. I changed subjects, just in case he decided to ask me what I’d done instead. “So what are you doing tonight? Packing?”
“Wanna come over and hang out? I’ll even watch Across the Universe with you. I know you must be missing Ani.” I sighed softly, remembering anew the things that made Tom such a great guy, a great friend. Things that would make him a great boyfriend to someone one day, hopefully soon. He really was thoughtful, at least when he wasn’t drunk. And he genuinely cared about people. I think that’s why he never went home with any of the women who threw themselves at him—in a backhanded kind of way, he cared enough to remember that morning always came, and in many cases, it carried with it a bucketful of cold regrets. And that was a terrible way to wake up.
“I’d love to. Need food? Mom made Chicken Alfredo with broccoli. There’s leftover salad and bread, too, if you want it.” I’d already packaged up a box of food to take with us to see Foster, but since Sebastian had most likely gone to see him without me, I might as well offer it to Tom.
“That’d be great. Haven’t eaten much today besides soup and crackers, and now I’m starving.”
“Can you give me half an hour?” I wanted to try Sebastian one more time.
“See you by eight, okay?”
“Sounds good.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
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 a
sked, “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!”
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