Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 52713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
“I wish you’d told me. Not just so you weren’t lying, but so I could help,” Sebastian says sincerely. He looks like he’s about to say something more, but then he looks over my shoulder and frowns. “Wait— are those flamingos?”
“Rose gold flamingos,” I say, sniffing— I didn’t realize I was so close to tears, but now they’re flowing freely, like the sudden mood change set them loose.
Sebastian smiles a little, then takes the smallest step closer to me. “Are you alright?” he asks, tilting his head to try and get a good look at my face.
I wipe my eyes with the bottom of my palm and shake my head. “Ugh, no, I’m a mess. I just wish I could go back. I wish we could go back.”
“Really?” Sebastian says. When I nod, he tells me, “I don’t.”
I give him a disbelieving look, but he goes on. “You asked me in the car that day— what if my father did kill your aunt? And so I…I did some reading. I talked to our lawyer. I talked to my father, even…” His voice is wary now, and my stomach is tumbling. I have no idea where this is going, but wherever it is, I think I might be sick when we get there.
“What do you mean?” I ask in a near whisper, unsure if I even want to hear the answer.
Sebastian takes a long, steadying breath, and stares at the fountain, like the ridiculousness of the birds might give him strength. “I love my father despite everything, and I always will. Alright? You have to know that. He’s my father.” For a second, I think I hear a tremble in his voice, but then I’m not entirely sure if it was there or not.
“I understand,” I say. My voice is definitely trembling.
Sebastian rubs the back of his head, then meets my eyes. “I never looked at any of the evidence against him before, Ashlynn. I never thought I needed to. I knew he was innocent. But you questioned that in the car, that day. So when I found out who you were, when I began to worry that maybe I’d said something damning about him, I starting thinking on everything you’d said, everything I’d said. Everything stacked against my dad, and everything stacked for him. I’ve never done that before. Carson asked me to look through it all once with him, and I refused. I thought that even looking at the case against him meant I was doubting him. Like it made me a terrible son.”
“That’s not true,” I say, but he waves a hand— he needs to get through this. He looks like he may break at any moment, strong as he is, big as he is. Perfect as he is.
He swallows. “I’m not saying I think he killed your aunt, Ashlynn. But I am saying that I don’t know, anymore. Not like I used to. And what’s most important to me right now is that the person who is guilty goes to jail. Even if that person is my dad.”
My eyes well up anew. I don’t even know what to say, much less where to look or where to put my hands. “Sebastian,” I start, but then don’t know where to go. I settle on this: “I’m so sorry I lied. I love you. Still, I mean. And I won’t lie to you again.”
“I’d appreciate that. I’m sorry I didn’t understand why you had to do it. I think I do, now. It’s hard to be up front about things when it comes to family,” he says gently, voice calming. He steps closer again, then another step, another, till he’s just a foot away. He reaches out a hand and runs it down my arm, like he’s testing whether or not this is acceptable. When I lean into his touch, he smiles, then lowers his head toward mine.
Then he brings his lips to mine and kisses me in that perfect way— the way that promises me we’ll kiss a thousand more times. And I kiss him back in kind, because I know without a shred of doubt that despite all that lies between us, we will.
27
The first time attending a real pro party full of football players is always intimidating. It’s made more so when you’re the new girl— even if you do have a dress that costs more than your first car to wear for the occasion.
“You look absolutely stunning,” Sebastian says as I make my way downstairs. The fact that I manage to do so without falling is a real feat, both because of the heels I’ve got on and because of the staircase itself. The hardwood steps are still sleek and new, as is most everything in this house. I still can’t quite believe I live here— in Texas, but also in a house like this. Sebastian purchased it the moment he got his signing check— and then asked me to move into it with him. It’s still half empty, since neither of us had remotely enough furniture to fill it, but we will, in time.