A Stone in the Sea(58)

It was strung up from a top metal beam, hanging down amongst a bevy of birds, the super soft stuffed animal nearly half the size of my dainty daughter.

“It’s a Monarch kind,” she said quietly in awe, even though this butterfly was bright colors, mismatched prints, and didn’t come close to depicting a single one of the butterflies Kallie loved to pretend she was, but neither Sebastian nor I were going to correct her.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

Apparently so by the little happy dance she was doing at my side, her eyes wide and so sweet. My heart was beating wildly because I couldn’t stop this man from slipping deeper.

Taking hold.

Sebastian caught the woman’s attention who was working the tent. “Can we get that butterfly there, please?”

“Of course.” She climbed a ladder and was quick to unhook it while Baz was digging out his wallet from his back pocket and, once again, pulling out a small stack of large bills.

“You don’t need to do that, Baz. You already took care of us all day. I’ll get it.”

He frowned at me. “I want to, Shea. Let me do this.”

And I saw that same thing there, the same awareness I felt constantly, that time was stealing away, that he too was rushing to fill up these days with memories, because as hard and rough as he was, I saw the softness, too. Saw that even though I knew he would never admit it, my daughter was impossible not to love.

He knelt down and passed Kallie the butterfly. “There. Right where she belongs.”

Excited, thankful noises flew from her mouth as she squeezed and hugged it tight. She sidled up to his side and slipped her hand into his, and something passed through his expression that stole my breath, something dark and hard and sad.

Silently, we traipsed back through the grasses, passing by people still milling around. Many vendors were beginning to tear down their displays as the show wound down and moved onto whatever city called to them next.

We hit the sidewalk that ran along the riverfront. Goosebumps lifted on my skin as a breeze blew across the waters, the air cool and heavy. I pulled in a deep breath, hoping it would push out some of the fear that kept trying to gather in my chest.

We passed by Charlie’s that was closed down for Sunday night and toward my neighborhood. Kallie began to drag her feet.

Sebastian looked down at her, his voice light. “Are you tired?”

She nodded with a yawn.

“Come here, Little Bug,” Sebastian offered quietly into the deepening night, and that murmured sentiment ripped at my spirit, words he’d never called her, something all his own.

Releasing me, he scooped up my daughter and tucked her close to his chest.

Effortlessly.

Kallie clung to him, her head on his shoulder and her butterfly clutched in her arm.

Simple, simple dreams.

They grew bold and unsettled.

He didn’t hesitate to carry her up our walkway and through the door. His steps were subdued and quieted as I followed close behind, and he toted her upstairs and into her darkened room. Gently, he laid her down on her bed then stepped aside so I could remove her shoes and tuck her in, my child already drifting to sleep.

I peppered her sweet face with kisses, my precious girl, and she smiled a soft, comfortable smile, and my chest burned with the devotion and love I had for her. Shuffling out, I looked at her once more over my shoulder, before I flipped off her light and left her door open an inch, edging back out to the landing where Sebastian had retreated.

Waiting for me.

He stepped toward my room, his chin lifted like a threat while he held open my door.

My heart beat wildly as I approached him.

He was never gentle, his body always desperate, every touch filled with urgency.

I never minded.

I wanted him raw.

Unbridled.

Because it was the truth he could afford to give me.

Even though I also saw the truth in the gentle way he handled my daughter, in those moments when I was caught in his compassion, in the dedication that slipped from his mouth when he spoke of his brother and friends.

It was Sebastian who didn’t know it existed.

He shut the door behind us. Two fumbled moments passed before our clothes were forgotten. Tonight we didn’t even make it to the bed. Sebastian was covering himself with a condom as he took me down onto the floor. He hooked my legs up over his shoulders, my breath gone as I became his. My back chafed against the carpet while my spirit was seared by every inch of him.

“Shea,” he whispered urgently. Regretfully.

And I was falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

I could feel him at the ledge, earth crumbling beneath his feet, frantically trying to hold ground.

I clung to him, a selfish part of me wishing for a way to reach up and drag him over the edge with me.