Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
And on top of all this, Sebastian was frowning, too.
My kneejerk reaction was to keel over and vomit. Not because of his appearance. Well, yes. Because of his appearance. But not because it disgusted me. But because it disgusted him. He couldn’t live with himself, and the thought saddened me.
I forced my shaky hand to reach up and trace the deep frown furrowing his brows. He hissed at the touch, drawing away instinctively, obviously shocked by the touch. I didn’t relent. A beat passed before he leaned back in, closing his eyes to savor the human touch.
A lone tear tumbled from his right eye down his cheek. I choked back on a cry.
His mouth tugged sideways in a grimace. “Not so handsome anymore, am I?”
Oh, no. I wondered if he’d heard me at dinner last night, raving to the girls about his beauty. I’d compared him to a deity.
“The eye patch is super sexy.” I shrugged, smoothing away the persistent wrinkle on his forehead. “I’ve always been Team Captain Hook.”
“Hook was the villain.”
“Villains are just misunderstood heroes.”
“Yes. Well.” A snarl touched his face. “I am perfectly understood. Understandably bitter, that is.”
The dogs wagged their tales and circled us, sensing the profundity of the moment.
“We’ve been sharing this house for so many years, and I never got to see you like this?” I croaked out.
He licked his busted upper lip. “Hmm,” came his noncommittal reply.
“When did it happen?”
“Fifteen years ago.”
Fifteen years ago.
He was now in his thirties. He’d spent half his life in the confinements of these walls, away from civilization.
I cupped his face. “And you sit here all day on your own?”
All I got was a small nod.
Oh, Seb.
He still boasted that same gorgeous tan. He must’ve spent hours every day glued to the window, peering out as the world move on without him.
“It’s better that way.” He must’ve sensed my doubt, because he rushed to explain. “Every time my mother sees me, she begins to cry uncontrollably. My father vomited the first time he saw my face after the accident. Oliver is the only one who can stand to look at me, and even he does it because he doesn’t have a choice.”
What did he mean by that? Why didn’t Ollie have a choice? So many questions raced through my brain, but so did relief.
Guilt surged inside me. I couldn’t help but sag my shoulders at the knowledge that Oliver must have kept this secret for his brother. Not because he didn’t love or trust me.
“I’m sorry for rehashing this, but … what happened to you, Seb?”
He clasped my wrist, bringing my hands down from his face. I had a feeling it was hard for him, rejecting the only human touch he’d had in a while.
“Now’s not the time. I can’t believe I showed you my face. Jesus.” He tore away from me, pacing the spacious room, shaking his head in disbelief. “You can’t tell Oliver.”
“Why?”
Wouldn’t Oliver be happy that I’d managed to reach out to Seb? Talk to him? They were brothers, for god’s sake.
“He’s going to get all cheesy about me showing you my face and sign me up for this year’s Met Gala.”
“I’ll tell him it took me months to bring you to do it,” I promised.
Sebastian shook his head. “He also won’t be happy we’re talking. He’ll be afraid I’ll screw it up for him. Now that you’re his, he is never letting you go.”
“Now that I’m his?” I dusted the place with my finger, running it on the edge of the bedframe. “What do you mean?”
How long had our first break up lasted?
“Shit.” Seb chuckled. “I meant, now that you are discharged and recovered from your injury.”
“That’s not what you meant.” I gave him a look.
He pierced me with a gaze of his own. “I’m not your boyfriend, Briar. You can’t strongarm me into talking.”
Another migraine drilled its way into my brain. With it, came a memory.
Of me, outside this very mansion, standing at the gate, shaking it desperately. It was pouring rain. I was young. Angry. Hungry.
My clothes clung to my body like leeches. Sobs tore out of my mouth as I sank to my knees.
Mud caked my shins. I shivered from the cold, begging for Oliver to open the gates.
He didn’t.
I knew that he was home, but he didn’t.
Why had he been so cruel? So horrible to me? What had I done?
Seb frowned, sizing me up. “You doing okay?”
I hadn’t even realized that I’d begun clutching my head, hyperventilating. This was a memory, not a nightmare. Something tangible that had happened in the past. The scent of wet metal seared in my nostrils, the cold from my soggy clothes deep in my bones.
“Did Oliver kick me out of the house at some point?”
Seb’s face couldn’t hold an expression other than a scowl, but it seemed to smooth over in surprise. “What do you mean?”