Chapter 14

Stephanie

I wait anxiously in the living room, pacing back and forth. My parents landed two hours ago; they should have been here by now. I check my watch again. It’s almost midnight now. I sit back down on the couch and stare blankly at the tv. I would watch something, but I’ve already binge-watched everything I ever thought about watching on every streaming device. I look around my parents’ living room, checking again to make sure it’s spotless.

I’ve been here since yesterday afternoon. I called them after I got those awful flowers and the card and asked if I could escape to their house for a few days. They agreed, telling me they’d be home late Tuesday night. And no, they didn’t come home just for me; that was when they were scheduled to fly home. Between yesterday and today, I’ve driven myself crazy. I don’t know why in the world I thought coming to my parents’ house was a good idea. I call it a moment of mental weakness after Principal Goodman suggested, rather assertively, that I should take a few sick days. I hear a sound, and the lock on the door turns.

“Stephanie,” my father says, coming inside. “What are you still doing up?”

My mother follows him. “Stephanie, why aren’t you sleeping? It’s so late.”

“I wanted to see you guys.” They close the door, and I stand there a moment longer before sitting back on the couch. I’m not sure why I was expecting a hug. We”re not a demonstrative family, never have been. I’ve always been fine with that; I don’t know why it’s bothering me now. I’ve obviously been spending too much time with Brielle. She’s definitely a hugger.

They take off their coats and hang them up before coming into the living room. “You look tired,” my mother says, assessing my face.

“Well, it is almost midnight,” my father points out.

As if on cue, my mother yawns. “Yeah, I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.”

“You guys should get some rest,” I tell them.

“Is everything good with you?” my mother asks. “You still have your job and everything?”

I nod. “Yeah. I just...needed a few days off. There have been a few things going on—”

“At the school?” my father asks, frowning.

“Yes.” I wonder how much I should tell them.

My mother yawns again. “Why don’t we all get some sleep, and we can talk when we’re fresh?”

I nod. “Yes, of course. You guys get some sleep; thanks for letting me crash here.”

“Of course,” my mother says. “See you in the morning.” I nod and swallow. My father nods at me and follows her back.

I drop onto the couch after a minute, settling back into the silence. I stare at the blank tv once again, wondering what in the world is wrong with me. Yes, the whole thing at school is bothering me. I hate not being able to do my job, but it feels like more than that. I feel uncertain, like the ground beneath me is uneven. I feel like a little girl that’s lost and alone. It takes me right back to my childhood, and I hate it. I reach up and wipe away a solitary tear. “Good grief, I need to get some sleep.” I stand to my feet and make my way back to my bedroom.

As tired as I feel, sleep takes forever to come. And when it finally does, I don’t sleep well. I wake several times during the night. I’m out of bed before the sun comes up, not wanting to fight it anymore. I wander out to the living room, desperately in need of coffee. Strong coffee. After that, I need to take a run. I need to run off this anxiousness.

I head into the kitchen and make a cup of coffee and settle into a chair in the kitchen, feeling hopeless. I’m still not sure why I came here. I guess some part of me wanted to spend time with my parents, to feel like a child again. I don’t know why I thought that was a good idea. They didn’t offer me comfort when I was a child. A part of me hoped maybe my mom would sit with me for a little bit last night and ask what was going on, but we’ve never really had that kind of relationship. I don’t know why I thought we’d start now.

I’m hoping to call Principal Goodman and see if I can come back to school on Monday. Scratch that; I’m planning on being in my place on Monday morning. A knock sounds on the front door, startling me. I glance at the clock. It’s only six-thirty. Who could possibly be knocking on the door this early in the morning? I stand up and walk over to the door. A peek through the window next to the front door shows me who’s standing there. I open the door quickly. “Sebastian, what are you doing here?” I pull the door mostly closed behind me and step out into the cool air. When I meet his gaze, his eyes are heated. I become instantly aware of the fact that I’m wearing only short sleeping shorts and a thin tank top...and it’s cold out here. I nearly choke. “I’m going to put on some clothes.” I whirl around and practically run back inside to the room I’m staying in. I close the door behind me, mortified. I take a moment to compose myself before I dress in a pair of jeans and a black sweater, thankfully with a bra this time. I shake my head as I pull my hair back into a loose ponytail. I put in gold hoops before heading back out.

When I get back out into the living room, Sebastian is no longer standing outside. And he’s no longer alone. Before I can say anything, my dad turns to me. “Stephanie, this is a friend of yours?”

I swallow, trying to think quickly of what to say about the fact that there’s a six-foot-three professional athlete standing in my parents’ home at six-thirty in the morning.

Sebastian meets my gaze, and his look is so intense, I forget anything I was going to say. I cough and try to take back control of this situation. “Dad, this is Sebastian, a friend of mine.”

My dad looks at me and then back at Sebastian. “Does your boyfriend know about him?”

“My boyfriend?” I repeat dumbly.

“Yeah, you know the guy you’re dating,” he says. He crosses his arms across his chest and gives me a look I know oh so well. “The hockey player?”

I cough. “You’re dating a hockey player?” Sebastian asks nonchalantly. I can’t even look at him.

“Yes,” my father says, looking not too pleased. “He plays for the Green Thunder.”

“In-ter-esting,” Sebastian says, drawing out the word. “Tell me more.”

“You know, I think I’ll just take Sebastian outside. He—”

“I’d love to hear more about the guy Stephanie is dating,” he says, cutting me off and sounding way too pleased with himself.

“He’s a forward, right?” my father asks me.

‘Actually—” I start.

“He sounds like a great guy,” Sebastian says totally unabashed. I shake my head. Before I can say anything else, Sebastian steps towards me. “I think the secret’s out.” He puts his hand on my shoulder.

“Wait, you’re the hockey player?” my dad asks. He looks Sebastian up and down, seeing the worn t-shirt and faded sweats and of course, the backwards cap on his head. “Nah.” I can’t help it; I laugh out loud at Sebastian’s indignant look.

“You can look me up online,” he informs my dad.

“Cocky much?” I mutter.

“Well, actually—” he starts.

“Never mind,” I say quickly, cutting him off. “Sebastian, how about we just talk outside?” I don’t give him a chance to say no. I walk past him, grab his shirt and give it a tug. I am very aware of the fact that he chooses to follow me outside; there’s no way I could make him.

“So this is a new development,” he says with a face-splitting grin.

“Not really,” I say, keeping my expression straight. “You knew we were telling people we’re...dating.”

He grins wider. “That was hard to say, wasn’t it?”

I shake my head. “Why are you here, Sebastian?”

He sobers up quickly. “Aiden told me about the flowers.”

I cross my arms across my chest. “He wasn’t supposed to.”

“Yeah, well I threatened him.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I don’t think that anything threatens Aiden.”

“I made him tell me. Did you get my message?” I don’t answer. “Like I said on the phone, I am so sorry, Stephanie. I should have never said anything at that press conference.”

“No, you shouldn’t have, Sebastian. Do you have any idea the mess I’m in because of it?”

He grimaces. “I know. I’m really sorry. If I could go back in time, I would have never said anything. I really am sorry.” He takes a small step forward but keeps a respectable distance between us. “What can I do to fix it? I can hire private security for you; I can call your boss and demand he let you come back. I can do another press conference and tell people to back off and leave you alone.”

My eyes widen. “No, don’t do that; that will only make it worse.”

His eyes look pained. “Tell me what I can do to fix this.”

I shake my head. “It’s fine; I will deal with it.”

He frowns. “That’s the whole point. I don’t want you to have to deal with it on your own.”

“I’m fine; I’m used to dealing with things on my own. Just don’t do anything, or you’ll make it worse. If enough time passes, people will move on. You’ll go to the next event with another woman, and people will forget all about me.

His frown deepens. “Stephanie—”

Whatever else he was going to say gets cut off when my father opens the door. “Your mother wants to know if you’re going to join us for breakfast,” he says, glancing between the two of us.

“Sebastian was just leav—”

“We’d love to,” Sebastian says over me, putting a hand on my back and ushering me forward. I turn to look over my shoulder at him and shake my head no, but he continues forward. I close my eyes when we step inside, and he closes the door behind us. I”m just getting ready to tell him what a terrible idea this is when he leans forward. “Relax.” His words fall right against my ear, and I stiffen. “Come on, Doll. Let’s get some breakfast.” He heads towards the kitchen like he lives here. I follow reluctantly, knowing this is going to crash and burn.

My mother turns away from her fancy espresso machine. “Should we order for both of you?” she asks.

Sebastian pauses for a moment. “Yes, please,” he says easily. He faces me a moment, surprise in his eyes. I don’t say anything, and he smiles and shrugs. She walks out of the kitchen and disappears. My father walks over to the machine and makes a coffee.

“Can I make you a coffee?” he asks Sebastian.

“I can do it,” Sebastian says, walking over to the machine. He stares at it a moment. “Okay, yeah, maybe you can.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” my father says, taking out a short espresso cup. “Mary’s a little particular about her machine.” It’s quiet, except for the sound of the machine. A minute later, my father hands Sebastian the micro cup. Sebastian takes it, and I want to laugh at the look on his face.

“Where’s the rest of it?” he asks, looking at the tiny cup. I bite back a smile.

My father looks up at him. “It’s a shot of espresso.”

Sebastian opens his mouth like he’s going to say something but thinks better of it. “Thanks.” He downs the drink in one swallow and hands my father the empty cup.