Chapter Eleven

Sebastian

As soon as Enzo and Rosalina are out of earshot, I turn to Nora. "What do you think— should we play or should we go?"

She shakes out her legs and arms. "Let's walk back. My enthusiasm is fading fast, and I have to go hit up a store to buy nineties clothes. I have no idea how long that will take in this mountain town."

"Really?" My stare is pointed. "The girl who wore a fuzzy party hat in her workplace didn't bring stuff to dress up?"

"Oh I would've, believe me. But Benji neglected to tell me about the themed nights. And yes, he will be punished."

We deposit our paddles and start walking until we reach a fork in the path.

Left leads us straight up the hill to the resort. Right takes us on a scenic route. The cracked sidewalk loops around a thicket of pine trees and slopes down to follow the lake's edge.

Her smile is tentative. "Should we?"

Probably not.

But what comes out of my mouth is, "I want to see the lake."

Pine needles crunch underfoot as we walk. She kicks a pinecone off the path as we stroll. "It's too bad Benji and Ro aren't as close as Enzo and Alessia."

It doesn't surprise me at all that she's worried about Benji and Rosalina. She was willing to body block him from pulling an Irish goodbye at his own sister's wedding back in that lobby, so she clearly cares something fierce.

I will the warmth that spurs in my chest to get lost.

"Well Enzo and Alessia are twins," I remind her. "Close is in the job description."

"I'm a card-carrying member of the Only Child Club," she says. "I'm not sure what's normal when it comes to sibling stuff."

"So am I." I nudge her with my elbow. "Haven't seen you at the meetings."

"Ha. I'll have to drop by sometime. Did you ever ask Santa for a sibling or are you normal?"

I chew it over. "I guess I was never bored enough to consider it. I lived with my parents and grandparents. Lots of personalities under one roof."

She lights up at this. "You all shared a house? How fun!"

"More like necessary. My parents work for Doctors Without Borders and always intended to return to service, even after I came along. They took off eleven years to raise me full time, then my dad went back to the field. I could tell my mother was miserable without him, and jealous he was doing the thing they both loved, so around the time I turned thirteen, I all but begged Mom to get back out there. She left me with my grandparents."

Her lips form a circle. "Whoa. And they're still in the field now?"

"Yup. My dad's a pediatrician, and my mom is an infectious disease specialist."

"They sound like saints. And your grandparents, too, for taking care of you when they left."

I chuckle. "Yeah. Anyway, my grandparents always had friends in and out of our house, big loud parties with the worst music you ever heard blasting through their crappy sound system. My whole life, I was always surrounded by people."

A group of three women come into view far ahead of us on the sidewalk, too far away to easily identify yet.

Walking toward us.

"Shit." I tug off my hat and place it on her head. "Here, shove your hair up into this in case it's another Ferraro. This place is crawling with them. Keep your gaze low."

"Sebastian," she laughs. "I think we're probably fine on this sunny path in the middle of the day."

"You say that, but did Benji's grandpa get a good look at you last night? I'm not trying to draw more suspicion by being seen with you twice in a row."

"I don't think he did, though I was lightheaded by the time I rolled out of there. From all the heat, I mean."

She and I both.

"And what if it's a Mazzelli?" she asks. "Without your hat, your face is in even clearer view, and here you are with someone much shorter than your gazelle of a girlfriend."

"Then I guess we're shit out of luck, shorty."

She peeks up from beneath the brim of my hat, gaze gently probing. "Two friends can walk together outside, right?"

I force my attention forward. "Theoretically."

"And we aren't in towels this time."

"Right." I stall on the visual of her in that tiny scrap of fabric for longer than I'm proud of. "What were we talking about, again?"

A weak laugh escapes her as she cups the back of her neck. "Full houses, I think? I always wanted a sibling. My mom was in her own world a lot, and I would've loved someone else to coexist with. It got lonely at times. And worse: I had no one to prank."

"And now you're making up for it by pranking over a hundred Italians about your relationship status."

"That's not the same!" She pauses. "It's kind of the same."

"Thought so." I smile, my thoughts wandering back in time. "After my grandpa died, it would've been nice to have someone who understood. It was rough, especially with my parents having just left the country. But Alessia walked up to me the day after his funeral at school and told me she wasn't letting me out of her sight until I smiled again, so I guess you could say I gained a sister that day. We were always friends, but that sealed the deal."

"You found yourself a winner of a friend, Seb." She pauses. "I have no idea why I just nicknamed you. I've been nicknaming the crap out of Benji and it just slipped out. Please disregard."

And that marks the first time I've ever liked being called Seb.

"You can call me whatever you want, Nor ."

She grins. "Bash it is. Or maybe Tian."

"Okay, maybe not those."

Her smile falls away as she slows her gait. "I'm sorry about your grandfather, by the way. That must've been hard on the family. Especially your grandma."

"Thanks. Don't worry, Nella—sorry, Nonna Stella—is back to blasting music on her crappy sound system. Mostly Daft Punk. She's okay."

"Your grandmother is named Stella?" She grabs my elbow, her warm grasp sending a current of energy up my sweaty arm. "There's an older woman with salt-and-pepper hair that comes to the YMCA named Stella. She's really short and funny. We take the same water dan—uh, swim aerobics class on Tuesday nights. Could that be her?"

I shake my head. "You take swim aerobics with my grandmother ?"

Her nose crinkles.

A laugh rockets from my mouth. "You're young and fit! Challenge yourself!"

She scoffs at this. "I take all the classes that place offers from HIIT to spin to water aerobics; it's part of my set routine. But that's not the point here. Your grandma is a local legend. I always try to be near her because she knows all the gossip and tells the best stories."

"That's Nella all right." I shake my head, scratching my chin. "I can't believe you two know each other. Generally speaking, when Nella hangs out with someone even remotely near my age, she tells me all about it."

And had I taken Nora on a date before all this, and Nella caught wind of the connection, not twenty-four hours would've passed before Nella cornered her in the pool and invited her over for a meal.

I dodged a major complication. That fact should make me happier than it does.

"I haven't actually talked to your grandmother, for the record," she says. "I wouldn't just approach her. I hang back and listen to her and her friends."

I side-eye her. "Why do you sound like you are scared of my four-foot-nine grandmother?"

"I'm not! I just don't want to intrude on their time."

I exhale and level her with a look. "You do not have to worry about intruding on her swim circle time, I assure you. Most of why she goes to the Y is to stay up to date on everyone's business. Say hello. She will love it. Though you may want to proceed with caution unless you want an eighty-year-old best friend."

As she laughs, I discern the faces of our approaching friends more clearly.

Mazzellis.

Shit.

I veer sideways and step off the path. "Wow, what a lake."

She leaves a foot between us as she matches my stance. "Great Home Depot dad posture, Seb. Really selling this."

Alessia's relatives wander past our backs with no urgency whatsoever. We remain silent enough to hear their footfalls fade away.

Nora is first to let out a sound. "Okay, maybe that was a little stressful. Who were they?"

"Those were Alessia's aunts," I inform her. "Vinny's sisters, who she claims are about as charming as he is. So not at all."

"Delightful. Good thing we didn't face them head on."

She leads us back to the sidewalk. "So, will you and Enzo play pickleball at the Y? Maybe my new eighty-year-old best friend and I can stop by and watch."

I grin at the thought. "Actually, I'm kind of in a time crunch through the end of summer, getting ready to move. I won't be able to play much, depending on his schedule."

Her pace slows. "Move?"

"Yeah." Something in me deflates. I grab a pinecone, toss it in the air, and catch it with the top of my foot to distract myself. "I'm starting a new Boys and Girls Club."

The breeze off the lake gusts as she looks at me. "Wait a second. I thought you were a mentor now."

I juggle the cone between my feet and knees like a soccer ball. "I'm a director of development for the organization. Or I was until I took a small break this last year to help Nella fix up her house. My job is to do everything to get clubs off the ground in new areas. I scout markets and write up proposals for approval from the board of directors. Once it's approved and I'm awarded the contract, I hit the ground running."

Her attention moves between my legs and my face. "What do you do after it's approved?"

"I secure the buildings, fix them up so they're what we need them to be for the kids, get buses and organize their routes, recruit volunteer mentors and staff, train those people, network with schools and local businesses—like your store, for example—and some other stuff. After I get the facilities in order and expand as much as the area can sustain, I hire a manager to run it day to day, and it's off to the next place."

She shakes her head as if shocked. "Whoa. That's really something."

"Honestly, a lot of it is dealing with facilities, manual labor, and grunt work. It takes a lot of that to get any organization off the ground. It doesn't sound like much, I'm sure."

"It does , first of all. But if you don't enjoy it, why do you do it?"

"I never said I didn't enjoy it." My brows knit together. Enjoying my job was never really the point—though I genuinely do.

When it became clear medical school wasn't happening, I spent a good while trying to decide what else I could do. I thought about why my parents chose the paths they did. When people asked them how they ended up in their line of work, they'd answer the same way every time. Just doing our part! I started asking myself what's my part ? What can I do that would have even a fraction of the impact that their careers have had on the world? What would I be proud to update them on when they fly home after eighteen months of saving lives in the field?

No choice I came up with seemed remotely good enough, so I channeled my shame and disappointment into hitting baseballs.

"I had this coach," I begin. "In high school. Leo Fischer was his name."

The month after my grandfather's death, when my parents had to leave again and life was supposed to get back to normal but didn't, Coach Fischer stopped by my house every morning and we ran in silence. Mile after brutal mile, rubber pounding the pavement. He made sure my ass went to school immediately after, and he didn't stop showing up until I was myself again.

When my parents couldn't be there for me, and my grandmother was too deep in mourning to be available, he was there.

Remembering that time in my life feels like zippering a tight jacket around my heart, the teeth digging in where it hurts.

"He made a huge impact on my life," I tell her. "I lucked out when it came to the adults in my life with two superhuman parents, two superhuman grandparents, and a coach on top of that. I've had teammates and friends who had no one to turn to when things got rough. I don't take for granted that I've had people to look up to and trust who were there for me in different ways throughout my life.I decided I wanted to create situations where kids and teenagers, not just athletes, had access to people who cared. Or as Coach would've said, gave two twiddly shits about them. That's why I do what I do—for the kids who have no one. But enough about me."

Her expression is so tender it's almost pained. But as fast as the softness came, it's gone as she shakes her finger at me. "Not so fast, mister. How many of these clubs have you opened?"

I attempt a soccer trick with the cone and fail. "This will be my third."

"Three? Already? And you're only thirty?"

I let out a dismissive grunt. "That's old. In the immortal words of McLovin, old enough to party. My parents had finished med school by my age, and my grandfather was already well on his way to becoming an Air Force flight surgeon. My life is measured by the distance between me and the people I'll never live up to."

"Does it have to be a competition?" she asks. "What they did is great, and what you do is great."

Her tone is way too generous considering it really is mostly renovating buildings and going out of my mind trying to figure out after-school bus routes.

I lob the cone toward the trees and fall into step beside her. "Eh. It's great that I'm able to help those kids, but small in the grand scheme of things. I'm not out there creating new vaccines or anything."

"Listen, the world is a dumpster fire, and no one can fix it all. You're throwing your portion of water on it by working with a cool organization. Take the compliment. Where's the next club?"

My gaze wanders to the view beyond the lake. We're surrounded by mountains, which makes this whole place feel like it's nestled in a bowl. The natural beauty and the smell of pine seeping into my skin makes it difficult to think about where I'm going.

And almost…disappointing.

It's an unfamiliar feeling, as I've never cared where I'm going before.

"Nebraska. About an hour outside of Omaha."

Her exhale is like a balloon losing air in a gust. "Wow. Nebraska . That's far."

"So says my map app. Did any of your adventures ever take you near there?"

"I've driven through Nebraska plenty of times. Not to overstep, but are you sure that's a prime spot for what you're trying to do? It's pretty rural outside of Omaha, if I recall. And boring, unless you're really into farmers' daughters. Age-appropriate ones, of course."

I don't miss her sideways glance.

There's a question somewhere in there.

"I'm not out there shopping for farmers' daughters," I say, biting back a grin. "I've got a job to do."

"People can have social lives even when they work. Allegedly."

I laugh. " Allegedly . Did you just dunk on yourself?"

A flush creeps up her neck. "I'm just saying, you should at least aim to live in the city itself."

"It's still close to Omaha for day trips, which is important because I get antsy when there isn't a city nearby. Doesn't have to be perfect. No place is. It just has to be tolerable for a year or so until it's time to go."

"Talk about living my nightmare," she says. "Not even enough time to find a decent person to cut your hair and it's time to move again? Sounds awful."

"My bar for a decent haircut must be lower than yours."

She tugs off my hat, removes the elastic from her low ponytail, and shakes out her thick, shiny hair in a most distracting way. Without warning, she frisbees the hat back to me. "It took me months to find a salon I liked in Great River. You wouldn't understand."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because look at you. You could strut into a bar with a mohawk or a mullet and any number of gorgeous women would hang on you like those plastic monkey-in-a-barrel toys with the hook arms."

I've opened my mouth to challenge this when she tugs the hem of her shirt up over her head.

"What are you doing?" Heat grips my body as my gaze falls to her perfect chest, barely covered by two triangles of black fabric. And then lower, to her bare stomach. Tiny cursive words I can't quite make out are written on her ribs.

"It's hot. There's a lake. I was going to swim. Is that bad?" Her eyes and tone are pure innocence, which makes her outrageous body all the more devilish.

"I guess not." I clutch my hat in my hands. It's still warm from her.

She nudges off her shoes one at a time and bends over to take off her socks. "Wait, you don't think there are eels or something weird in there, right?"

I swallow, throat tight. "Trust me, if there were eels, the caterer would be sourcing them for dinner by now. We're probably fine."

She freezes . "What?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

"No, you are going to have to explain that one if I have any hope of eating this week."

Considering Nora overheard Alessia and Enzo discussing her relationship with Eloise during our attempted cocktail hour jailbreak, it's probably safe to spell it out for her. "Alessia is in a relationship with Eloise, the caterer, so I know too much about the menu this week. Spoiler: it's a lot of seafood."

"So, Eloise is both the caterer and Alessia's girlfriend. Got it." She unbuttons her shorts. Her fingers pinch her zipper and drag it down. The fabric of her shiny swimsuit bottoms comes into view centimeters at a time. "That's a bummer about the menu, though. I hate all seafood. Except for lobster bisque from Lou's Tavern, which is my favorite food."

My pulse is alarmingly fast as I try to keep up with what she's saying. "That makes no sense. Lobster is the epitome of seafood, so how can you say you hate all seafood?"

She slips her thumbs into her shorts and drags them down, shimmying her hips. "I don't know, but the soup is delicious. I eat it every Thursday. When I don't, I swear I have bad luck the whole following week."

As if that settles things, she saunters off the path in pursuit of the sandy shore. Her bikini bottoms fit her better than a glove. It's like they're painted on her perky ass.

My attention lands on the tattoo just above her elbow. It's also in loopy cursive that matches the style on her ribs.

She peeks over her shoulder and catches me staring. Her lips tip into an almost teasing smile. I can't decide if she's a flirt or completely unaware of her power. The way she's looking back at me with so much of her tantalizing body on display goes straight to my cock.

She lifts her hair off her neck. "You coming?"

I glance behind me. The path is clear of people, and the lake is empty as far as I can see in any direction. We won't be seen.

But this still feels like a dangerous move.