19. Nelly

Chapter 19

Nelly

T his wasn’t okay.

I knew that much. I’d learned that much over the last few years. The way he’d spoken to me, whether it was on a professional level or a personal level, wasn’t something that I could just easily let go. Not when I’d dealt with it time and time again from Morris, not when I’d left clients for less.

Are you insane?

It played on a repeat in my mind as I stood there in the darkness of Sebastian’s kitchen. He’d said that to me, out loud, in public, in front of his coach and half of his passing teammates. The only saving grace was that he hadn’t said it in front of Matty, but I had a horrible sinking feeling that if it was anything else I’d done and Matty had been by my side, it would have come out of his mouth anyway.

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did.

I wasn’t foolish enough to think that we were more than just friends—if I’d even go that far—just because we’d slept together twice, now. I wasn’t foolish enough to think that there was any chance he was interested in me for anything more than pleasure and childcare, and I wasn’t foolish enough to think that if I had any sort of feelings for him, they’d be reciprocated.

But maybe I was foolish enough to think we’d connected on a human level enough that things like that wouldn’t happen. Maybe the overabundance of care that he’d given me willingly the night I’d ended up teary-eyed in his bedroom had been out of obligation and lust, and not because a part of him cared at least a little about my well-being.

I wanted you there. Both of you.

He’d said that to me that night, but I couldn’t help but feel like it hadn’t been true tonight. And no matter how much he liked to reassure me that I was doing great in our lessons , I couldn’t beat back the sinking feeling that maybe whatever had happened to him tonight, whatever made him change his mind enough about me to talk to me the way he had, was because of my performance.

But that wasn’t okay.

It wasn’t okay, no matter what the reason was.

If I was smart enough and old enough and wise enough to have learned from anything from everything that had happened with Morris, it was that nothing he’d done that had made me feel small was okay — and I felt like a fucking infant right now.

I wished I could just retreat to the guest house. I wished I didn’t need to stay in there until Sebastian got home, but Matty had zonked out the moment I’d strapped him into his car seat in the Porsche, and I’d had to carry him upstairs to his bed — and I couldn’t exactly leave him alone in the house.

But I felt like a child standing in the corner waiting to be scolded with every passing second .

I didn’t know how I’d react to whatever he was going to say. I didn’t know if I’d have it in me to even sit and listen if he tried to say anything at all. Most of me just wanted to bolt to the guesthouse the moment the front door inevitably opened.

But I stood. And I waited.

I stared at the clock on the front of the oven, stared at the over-ripe bunch of bananas on the counter. Seb had plucked one from this morning so he could playfully, suggestively eat it. I stared at the calendar with games marked down in red. And I stared at the little picture Matty had drawn in crayon before the gigantic box of every color of crayon in the world arrived in the mail the next day.

Even with me off to the side in his drawing, it was clear he’d already wanted me enmeshed in his little family image from the first week. Do I really want to throw that away just because of what he’d said to me? It made my chest ache to even consider it, and for more reasons than just the potential upset to Matty. The money was incredible, the living situation was perfect, and with every passing day, I was growing to love that damn kid more and more. It would hurt if I chose to walk away from him.

And as much as I didn’t want to admit it to myself, it would hurt to walk away from his father.

Headlights poured through the windows along the front of the foyer. Heaviness ached in my chest and the temptation to run through the back door was nearly overwhelming, but I locked in, either due to my freeze response or the willingness to try to be an adult in this situation.

I waited.

And waited.

And waited .

It must have been at least ten minutes before the headlights shut off and the key turned in the lock of the front door. Whether he’d had to gather the patience to handle the hand-off or felt just as uneasy about this as I did, I had no idea — but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know. I wasn’t sure of what I wanted at all anymore.

The light in the foyer flickered on automatically as he came through the door, hair clean and dry, his uniform likely tucked neatly into the duffel bag he carried as he’d changed into his usual jeans and plain white shirt. I wasn’t surprised that he’d cleaned up at the rink instead of coming home to do that — he’d done that after the last game we went to, and when I asked, he’d said that his car smelled too much like sweat if he didn’t.

I wasn’t sure if he’d be able to see me in the darkness of the kitchen, but the light from the foyer filtered in just enough that I was positive he’d notice me if he looked — and sure enough, just as he set down his bag next to the little table by the door, tired blue eyes met mine across the expanse of hardwood.

Slowly, he rose to his full height, not daring to look away from me. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey.”

He kicked his shoes off and padded across the floor soundlessly, steadily making his way toward the kitchen. There was something about him, something different , in the way he carried himself — strong, but the confidence he usually oozed was faltering. It wasn’t as stark as it had been when Coach had insisted that Matty and I come through to the private area off the side of the rink. Seb had looked absolutely unhinged then, with his hair soaked and his eyes bloodshot and wild, the veins on his forehead protruding angrily. This, whatever this was, was somewhere between what that had been and his usual demeanor .

It was almost standoffish to the point it had been the first week I’d been here, but without the confidence he’d had then. It was… jarring.

“Do you?—”

“I’m sorry we were late.” The words came out before I had a chance to stop them, cutting him off entirely. “There was an accident on eighty-five, and the side roads were packed with people getting off the highway.”

He blinked at me as he stood in the doorway, the light from the foyer casting the front of him in thick shadows and lighting up his outline. His mouth parted just slightly as he watched me standing there, leaning up against the countertop in his jersey, my ponytail starting to hurt and my jeans cutting into my stomach. “You don’t need to apologize,” he sighed.

“Apparently, I do.” Ice. That’s what it felt like as the words left my mouth. Ice.

He pushed a hand through his hair, his fingers tugging just slightly at the black waves, and let out a heavy breath. “Nelly,” he said, a hint of gravel in his voice. “I’m?—”

“No.”

He blinked at me again, a heavy silence falling over us as we stood motionless, the ten feet between us feeling like a mile.

Fuck.

I hated this. This hurt. Why did this hurt ?

“No?” he asked breathily. “What does that mean?”

“I know what you were going to say. And I’m saying no to it.”

His jaw tensed as he watched me, a moment of hesitation hitting like the heavy silence, but he broke it before it could settle again. “Your response to my apology is no ?”

“Is that confusing for you?” I chuckled, but the sound was hollow and wrong, and it ached through my chest as it rang out.

“No, I just wasn’t…” He took a deep breath in through his nose, exhaling heavily from his mouth. “I just wasn’t expecting such an outright refusal to an apology. But it’s fine, Penelope, I’m capable of hearing and understanding the word no . I’m just not sure where to go from there if you’re shutting it down.”

“You can go to bed,” I offered.

He huffed out a breath. “Yeah,” he said. “I can go to bed.”