“Hi,” he said.
“Hi, yourself.” I hesitated. “What are you doing here?”
Sebastian grinned, although his expression was more sad than happy. “I know I’m a little late, but I was wondering if we might have that date after all.”
I stared at him, my mouth still hanging open, not sure what to do, what to say, and especially what to make of the sudden hope that surged through my heart. My attraction to him was crazy, stupid, and utterly foolish, especially given what I’d done to his father. But it was there all the same, and I didn’t know how to deny it.
Or maybe I just didn’t want to.
“I’m sorry,” Sebastian said in a hoarse, ragged whisper. “For not calling or sending you a note. I know that I stood you up last night.”
Last night, Friday, had been the night of our date. I might have been secretly disappointed, but I hadn’t been surprised when he hadn’t shown up. I was absolutely floored that he was here now.
I stood frozen in place, my attraction to him warring with all of my training, not to mention my own common sense. I could almost hear Fletcher’s voice in my head, urgently whispering to me to get rid of Sebastian. Part of me wholeheartedly agreed with that plan. But there was another voice—my voice—that wondered what the harm of hearing him out would be.
Sebastian grinned again, although it seemed to be much more of an effort this time. “But I had a good excuse. You see, my father—”
“Is dead,” I finished so he wouldn’t have to. “I saw the news. I’m sorry for your loss, Sebastian.”
And I truly was, even though I was responsible for it.
He nodded, accepting my condolences. Then he grinned again. “You know, I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said my name.”
I looked at him, not sure what to say. He walked over to where I stood in front of the counter, a wet rag still clutched in my hand. Sebastian stared at me, a hungry look flaring in his eyes. Anticipation and attraction surged through me at his nearness, silencing Fletcher’s voice.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I should have called or sent a note, at the very least. But with everything that’s been going on . . .” He shrugged, then winced, as if that simple motion caused him as much pain as his grief did.
I reached out and gently placed my hand on his arm. “I understand. Again, I’m so sorry. I know how hard it is to lose someone you love. Especially so violently and unexpectedly.”
“You do?”
My lips opened, ready to tell him how my family had been murdered by a Fire elemental, ready to share my own private pain with him, ready to let him see that my broken heart wasn’t as black as my deeds were.
But suddenly, Finn’s voice echoed in my mind. And no matter what, you should never, ever tell someone all of your secrets.
I might be able to shut out Fletcher’s voice and warnings, Finn’s too, but I’d kept my family’s death to myself for so long that it was second nature for me to hide it. I opened my mouth again, but no words came out, and I realized that I couldn’t go through with my heartfelt confession. Not even for him. Maybe not for anyone ever.
“Gin?”
“What I meant was that it seems like violence is a way of life in Ashland,” I finished lamely.
He shrugged again.
“Sit down, and let me fix you something to eat,” I said, shifting the focus of the conversation back to him. “You can tell me everything that’s been going on the last few days. If you want to, that is.”
Sebastian let me guide him over to one of the stools close to the cash register. He put his elbows on the counter, then slumped down over it, as though all of the strength had suddenly seeped out of his bones.
“I feel like this has been the longest week of my life,” he said. “The funeral was today. Charlotte cried through the whole thing. I’ve spent the last two hours at our mansion, dealing with the mourners. Finally, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I had to get out of there, at least for a little while. So I left Charlotte with one of the giant drivers she likes, and I left. Does that make me a horrible person?”
“No,” I said in a soft voice. “It just makes you human.”
Sebastian drew in a breath and started talking. About the funeral, the words the minister had said, everyone who’d shown up at the service. While he talked, I turned a few of the appliances back on, rustled around in the refrigerators, and fixed him the best, most comforting meal that I knew how to make: a cheeseburger with all the fixings; hot, sizzling steak-cut fries; and a thick, rich, decadent triple chocolate milkshake.
Sebastian wound down about the time I finished cooking. I put all the food on a plate, then slid everything across the counter to him. He hesitated, then reached out and grabbed the burger, as if he was suddenly hungrier than he’d thought. He took a big bite of the layers of grilled beef, fresh veggies, and melted cheddar cheese. His eyes rolled up in his head in pleasure, and a sigh of contentment escaped his lips.
That’s when I knew that I was doing the right thing. Maybe it was crazy, maybe it was foolish, maybe it was just plain wrong, talking to the son of the man I’d killed, but I couldn’t send Sebastian away.
I just couldn’t.
Finn and Fletcher would have been cold and calculating about things, would have seen this as an opportunity to subtly pump Sebastian for any information that he might have about the investigation into his father’s death. Maybe I saw things that way too. But I also hoped that it was a chance to soothe his heartache, in whatever small way that I could.
I just hoped that Sebastian never found out what kind of man his father had truly been and how he’d hurt Charlotte again and again. That sort of cruel knowledge would cause him even more pain.
“How is Charlotte?” I asked, after Sebastian had eaten about half of his food.
He sighed and pushed his burger away, as though he’d lost his appetite. “As well as can be expected, I suppose. She’s devastated by our father’s death. She’s been hiding in her room for most of the week. I’ve tried to be there for her as much as I can, but given all the funeral arrangements and the business deals that my father had going on . . .” His voice trailed off.
The helpless expression on his face made me reach across the counter and put my hand on top of his. “I’m sure she understands. It’s hard when you lose someone . . . the way that you did. There are so many details to see to. She’ll realize that you’re doing the best that you can, for her and your father too, given the situation.”