Chapter 13: Gwen - Hunter or Hunted

The shifting of the bed woke me.

Sebastian sat on the edge, facing the wall. His bare back faced me. And what a nice back it was.

Until the other night, I had never seen him without a shirt. I always assumed the T-shirts and flannels were so big and heavy to hide parts of himself he wasn’t proud of. But those must’ve just been his style, because sure, he had a bit of a dad bod. Certainly couldn’t call him a gym rat with muscles of hard stone.

His chest was soft enough to lay on without something bony jutting into me, yet firm and toned beneath the surface. This angle made it clear that, while his life did not revolve around looking like a movie star, he took good care of himself.

As he pulled a green T-shirt over his frame, I tried to remember everything we’d said yesterday. It was all there. I hadn’t blacked out, but I didn’t know how he felt about it all in the aftermath. In the moment, I hadn’t given as much thought to each word that came out of my mouth as I usually did, and guilt pinched my chest.

What was I supposed to say?

I landed on, “Morning.”

When he turned my way, I braced for a glare or a snap. He smiled instead. “Good morning. How’d you sleep?”

Heavy. Soundly. If I had any dreams last night, I didn’t remember them. “Pretty good. Did you?”

“Sleep?” He returned to the head of the bed and leaned against the headboard. “Way later than you, but yeah. This bed is shockingly comfortable.”

“Did you leave?” I asked, glancing over at his outfit. I didn’t remember exactly what he’d worn yesterday, but I would’ve remembered the color. It brought out the green in his eyes. “Where’d you get the clothes?”

“No, and in my truck.” He rolled his head from one side to the other, stretching out his neck. “I always keep a couple of outfits in there. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten piss or shit on myself at work.”

Something fluttered in my chest. Something warm. Comforting.

Last night was the worst I’d been in so long, and he’d stayed.

He’d stayed even though I yelled and screamed and broke a glass.

“Oh. Right, that makes sense.”

Squinting at me, his smile inched higher. “You’re being weird.”

“I just woke up.” I pulled my blankets in closer. “I’m not being weird. I’m sleepy.”

“I like you sleepy.” He pushed some hair behind my ear. “I like your snoring less.”

Cheeks red, laughing, I pulled the blankets over my face. “I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you.”

He chuckled and tugged the blankets down. “I’m messing with you. You didn’t snore.”

I wanted to laugh or playfully smack him in the chest. But he was looking down at me, and I was looking up at him, and that flutter in my chest returned. Fluttering and warmth and comfort and… and something I hadn’t felt in a very long time. Something I had never really felt with a man. Something I’d only found in friendships.

Safety.

“Still,” I said. “I’m sorry. For everything yesterday, for the mess I was. I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

Sympathy raised his forehead. “Don’t be sorry.” He found my hand, twined his fingers through mine, and squeezed. “I’m grateful you let me deal with it. That you let me be here.”

But I was a mess. For so many reasons.

Sebastian’s dad had been a drunk, and last night, so was I. Messy, and accusative, and angry. I’d shattered a glass and stepped on it. I’d hurled into the toilet and needed help getting to bed.

That wasn’t me. Not who I wanted to be. Not who I had worked so hard to become.

“Well, I’m grateful you were, but that wasn’t…” I shook my head. “I’m not usually like that.”

“I know.” Another squeeze around my hand. “Your friend just died. You’re going through something. The aftermath of that isn’t always pretty.” He paused. “Well, you’re always pretty, but—I—You know what I mean.”

I laughed, and he joined in, and it went on for a while. Then it faded, and silence set in.

He broke it with, “Do you want to open presents with me and Lizzie?”

“Huh?”

“In an hour or two.” He glanced at his watch. “I figured the three of us could go back to the house. Open presents. Maybe have breakfast. Then come back here for dinner with Rhiannon?”

Shit. It was Christmas. I had completely forgotten that it was Christmas Eve last night.

“Oh, no,” I whispered. “You missed out on Christmas Eve with Lizzie.”

“In her words, she’s basically grown now. She doesn’t need me anymore.” Smile teasing, he shook his head. “She didn’t care. She wanted me here with you. And I wanted to be with you, so none of that, alright? Bad day was yesterday. It’s over. Let’s enjoy Christmas.”

* * *

Nothing hit quite like a post–mental breakdown shower.

The water practically baptized me. Or maybe the breakdown itself had.

As I stood there in the steam, letting the hot liquid loosen the muscles around my neck, no thoughts turned around in my mind. No fury burned in my chest, no grief pounded through my skull. All I felt was the sting of water through that cut on my foot.

Rhiannon had been right. I’d needed to let it all out. Now that I had, I could pull in a full breath.

It didn’t wash it all away. If I paid close enough attention, my throat felt tighter than usual.

But for today, I could breathe. For today, I needed to breathe.

When I got out of the shower, I blow-dried my hair, patted on some foundation, and smiled as I blotted the blush onto my cheeks. The red lip matched the cherry color of my hair. I stepped into a pair of jeans and a cozy sweater. And as I looked at myself in the mirror, breathing came easier.

Yesterday had been a bad day. Today wouldn’t be.

I’d fallen apart, but I’d put myself back together.

But how narcissistic of a thought was that? Because as soon as I walked out of the bathroom, into the kitchen, the reality hit me. I hadn’t put myself back together. At least, not on my own.

Sebastian had.

Everything looked the same as when we’d gotten back yesterday. No bloodied dish towel on the counter, no glass on the floor, no cooking oil splattered on the stove. He had cleaned everything up and put it back where it belonged.

Looking around at it all had me tearing up for the first time all day.

Sitting on the sofa, Sebastian tugged on a stuffed bear. Honey’s jaws clamped around the other side of it. She didn’t pull. Just sat there, pretending to play tug-of-war.

He must’ve caught sight of me or heard my footsteps, because he looked my way. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m good.” I glanced around the kitchen again. “You cleaned.”

“Just wiped up from dinner. Nothing crazy.”

Aside from the glass, he was right.

Still, he’d wiped down the counters, and swept up the glass, and mopped the floors. The counters only spanned a few feet, and the floor only took up about five feet in each direction. It couldn’t have taken him more than twenty minutes.

Such a small thing, but such a big thing to someone who never had it before.

The moment I’d turned eighteen and climbed out into the world on my own, housework became my duty. Living on my own now, I didn’t mind it. But before, when I’d been married, I had more than my mess to clean up. He’d cook something for himself, then leave the pots and pans and cutting board and knives and trash on the counters. I’d ask him to clean it, and he’d say he would, but he never did. Eventually, I got tired of asking and just cleaned it up myself.

Never, not once in my adult life, had someone else cleaned up a mess I had made.

Guilt pinged in my chest too. I knew how resentment festered when one person contributed so much more to a relationship. I didn’t want Sebastian to feel for me how I’d felt for my husband.

“Still,” I said. “You didn’t have to do that. But thank you. I appreciate it.”

A quick smile.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Probably Liz and Rhiannon.” He stood and headed that direction. “She’s dropping her off.”

Sure enough, on the other side of the threshold, there they were. A burst of cold air rushed in. Rhiannon carried some miscellaneous clothing and two plastic grocery bags.

Lizzie held a purse over her shoulder, a backpack over her spine, a pillow against her chest, and a mound of clothing in her arms. “Can you unlock the truck? I need to set all this down.”

Sebastian fumbled in his pocket. When he found the car key, he clicked it a couple times. “Why do you have to bring your whole bedroom every time you go to a friend’s?”

“Some of these are Christmas presents, thank you.” She rolled her eyes at him and started off down the steps, still bundling it all close to her chest. “And hi, Gwen! Merry Christmas!”

Chuckling, I walked to the door and found my snow boots on the plastic mat. “Merry Christmas!”

“She made out good,” Rhiannon said, extending the grocery bags to Sebastian. “She and Aubrey did the white elephant thing at dinner last night. They had a lot of fun. It was sweet.”

“I’m glad.” Sebastian blocked the open door with his foot, keeping Honey from running out, and juggled all Lizzie’s luggage in his arms. “Thanks for bringing her up. I wouldn’t have minded driving back down.”

“I was running up anyway. We’ve got a tree down in somebody’s driveway. Axel’s meeting me up here.” Rhiannon waved him off. Her gaze softened when it turned on me. “How are you doing today, kid?”

“Better than yesterday.” Forcing a smile, I shrugged. “Sorry for my meltdown.”

“Don’t worry about it. You weren’t the only one struggling.” Her expression was kind, but her tone stayed casual. “I don’t know how much it did in the way of closure, though.”

“Yeah, didn’t feel like anything was over for me.” I sat on the edge of the sofa to pull on my boots. “I wish I knew what her family was doing for the funeral. We didn’t really have one for my mom, and I think that made it harder. Didn’t really get to say goodbye, you know?”

“I actually talked to her parents last night. Just wanted to reach out with my condolences. See where their heads were at.” Rhiannon leaned against the doorway. “The cops are saying they’re going to release her body tomorrow. I’m pretty sure they’re gonna have the funeral sometime next week. If you think the closure would help, I can probably get the information for you.”

Sebastian’s shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath, probably assuming I wanted to go to the funeral to get more information on Evan.

While that was true to some extent, I also wanted to see Delilah again. I knew it wasn’t her. Just the sack of meat and bones that’d once held her. But maybe it would give my mind’s eye a better image than the one it kept conjuring up.

“Would that be alright?” I asked. “I mean, with the ranch and everything. You don’t think it would start any problems?”

“Well, I’d ask you to use a fake name, but that’s more for your benefit than ours.” She propped herself against the doorframe. “Maybe don’t tell anyone there exactly how things run here. But if you just go and say your goodbyes, I don’t see how it could cause any real harm.”

“Yeah, maybe that would be nice.” Boots on my feet, I stood. “Could you keep me in the loop?”

“Sure.” Her phone dinged, and she glanced at her smartwatch for the notification. “I gotta head out, though. I’ll see y’all later for dinner. Merry Christmas.”

As she headed off the porch, I grabbed Honey’s leash off the hook by the door. The whole time, I felt Sebastian’s eyes on me. I only paid him a glance before I bent down to find Honey’s collar. “I know you think it’s a bad idea. But I’m⁠—”

“I think it’s a good idea,” he said. When I straightened up, his hazel eyes were gentle and affectionate. “Seeing my parents’ bodies helped me accept that they were gone. Sarah’s was closed casket. I didn’t really get to tell her goodbye. I wish I could’ve. So yeah, I think it’d be good for you.”

Heart warm, my stiff shoulders relaxed. “I think I’ll go then.”

“Pretty sure you were going to regardless of what I thought.” He stepped back, holding the door open for me. “Would you mind if I came with you?”

I cocked my head to the side. “To babysit me and make sure I don’t do something I’ll regret?”

“To be there for you.” My God, the tenderness in his voice. The love in his eyes. I had never felt so cared for, so loved and adored before this man. But there was no denying the disappointed sag of his shoulders a second later. “And to meet the son of a bitch and judge for myself.”

Propping my hands on my hips, I arched a brow. “You’re considering it?”

He rolled his eyes and gestured outside. “Good day, remember? We want to have a nice, holly jolly Christmas.”

Fair enough. But the seeds were planted, and I had hope.

* * *

We went to Sebastian’s, and we sat in front of the tree.

Lizzie explained that usually she opened her presents first, and Sebastian opened his second, but we could switch it up this year. I could open mine first.

And I froze.

I’d gotten both of them presents. I had also gotten Simone, and Junie, and Rhiannon, and even Delilah a present. Even as a kid with no job and no money, I’d gotten presents for everyone I loved. Whether it was a handmade card or a bouquet of coffee-filter carnations, I got everyone in my life a gift.

But the last time I’d received a Christmas gift was a few months before my mom died.

My ex-husband never got me gifts. Aside from my wedding ring, I couldn’t remember one gift he’d ever given me.

Instead, he would tell me to get whatever I wanted—within reason—on his card. I handled the bills anyway. I knew what we could afford. Never mind the extra pressure that put on me—to stuff both our stockings, to buy the things to put in them, to wrap it all, to think about some random item I needed and could gift myself.

I always got him a video game, or new clothes, or something else he liked. But I got myself a new vacuum. Or combined it with a little bit of cash I had lying around to get something frivolous. Like a trip to the mechanic to fix the leak in my coolant tank that prevented the HV/AC from working in my car.

It felt unnatural now to look beneath the tree and know that one of the gifts beneath it was for me. It should’ve been normal. It should’ve felt heartwarming. But it left me with my jaw hanging open and muttering something about how it was okay, she could open hers first.

She did.

She pulled back the red wrapping paper that covered her new phone, a fancy pair of headphones, a backpack, a pretty overnight bag, gift cards to high-end makeup stores and clothing shops, a new snowsuit, and new boots, all while grinning ear to ear. She smiled and laughed and thanked Sebastian.

Suffice it to say, the gift I’d gotten her paled in comparison.

A vinyl of Billy Eilish’s most recent album, a music sheet clip holder engraved with her name, and a framed photo of the soundwaves from one of our practices. I’d recorded it without her knowledge and had some artist on Etsy print it in pretty colors.

But she smiled just as big, laughed just as loud, and even got teary-eyed at the soundwaves. She thanked me and hugged me, then grinned like a little kid, saying, “Oh my God, you’re gonna love yours.”

And as heartwarming as it was, as much as I adored Lizzie, I insisted that Sebastian open his presents first. Why? I didn’t know. Because it felt different. Foreign. I was more of a giver than a taker. Accepting gifts, kindness, even the care that Sebastian had given me yesterday, left me with a film atop my skin. Like I needed another shower.

Still, Sebastian happily accepted the gifts I passed him. He tore them open with the same childish glee as his niece. A new easel, oil paints, brushes, and rolled canvases he could stretch over wooden frames. When he dug deeper in the bag and pulled out the big one—the one I had been most excited to give him—he gasped with shock, then all but squealed. I doubted he would appreciate that verbiage, but it was pretty close. Even Honey came running over to make sure he was okay.

A sweatshirt with a removable battery pack. He always complained that in the colder months it was a pain in the ass tending to Rhiannon’s animals. This was both gift and solution.

On the last gift, he smiled so big. Tears even welled in his eyes.

The cheapest of all the gifts, in fact, but the most sentimental. A leather-bound sketchbook, embossed with his name and a quote from Leonardo da Vinci. His favorite artist, he’d informed me early in our friendship. He appreciated that Da Vinci was both artist and scientist.

He thanked me, and he hugged me, and we laughed, and we smiled.

Then the two of them scampered off. Hushed voices echoed off the high ceilings from somewhere else in the mansion. Then an odd squeaking sound.

A few seconds later, something slid into the cased opening of the living room. A giant box of red wrapping paper with a big green bow around it.

I asked what the hell it was, and they told me to open it.

I started ripping at the paper. Honey joined in. And then I was the one in tears.

“I don’t really know where it’ll fit,” Sebastian said, “and I hope it’s good quality. But you’re always complaining about how you don’t have one at your cabin, that you have to go all the way down to the rec center and wait for it to be available, so I figured, what the hell? Why not get you a gift you’d really love?”

Silence sat between us while I battled a war with the lump in my throat and the sting in my eyes. For a moment, I forgot to breathe.

A mini grand piano. He got me a miniature grand piano.

“It is a gift you really love, right?” Lizzie asked. “I mean, it’s big, but it’s not that big. I think if you get rid of that one end table by the window, beside the fireplace, it would probably fit right there. If that’s what you’re worried about, anyway.”

I wasn’t worried about where to put it. I was worried about the price. The fact that I’d spent a couple hundred bucks on Sebastian’s gifts, and there was no way he’d picked this thing up for less than a thousand. I was worried about the pressure that came with that. The same thing that’d run through my mind earlier, when I looked around the kitchen he’d cleaned.

That he was giving too much, and I wasn’t giving enough.

“And I got a really great deal on it,” Sebastian said, almost like he read my mind. “It looks brand new, but the box was opened. Somebody was selling it online, and I saw it, and I just had to go get it. So don’t worry about the price either. It was a really great deal.”

He lied. I could tell from the look on his face. It was identical to the expression he gave me that day in the café, right after I had killed David. Something in his eyes, maybe in his speech pattern, that I couldn’t quite pinpoint, but now recognized as his tell.

But saying he got it secondhand was his way of saying he couldn’t return it. I couldn’t reject it. If I did, he would donate it to the ranch, and I’d still wind up using it.

Rather than debate it, I collapsed into his arms with tears in my eyes.

Did the power dynamic make me uncomfortable? The fact that he made so much more money, that he came from so much more money? Most of the time, no. We usually went on dates at diners and bars and chain restaurants. Sebastian wasn’t one to flaunt his wealth.

But today, it did. Whether because I hadn’t received a gift in so long, or because I had never received a gift this extraordinary, I couldn’t say. But that was something I could talk to Rhiannon about in our next session.

For now, I thanked him, and I hugged him, and we kissed, and we went on with our holly jolly Christmas.

Considering he had made dinner last night, and that he had gotten me a several-thousand-dollar Christmas present, I insisted on breakfast. Of all the meals, it was my favorite to cook. Dinner was too savory, lunch the same, but with breakfast and dessert, I got to play with sweetness and complex pairings.

They had a loaf of brioche on the granite countertop, so I used that as the base for French toast. With some soon-to-expire mascarpone tucked in the back of the fridge and an array of fruits, I made a filling and stuffed it into the bread. Then I fried up bacon and eggs while Sebastian plowed the driveway and Lizzie set up her phone on the other side of the island. We talked about her gifts and those shopping plans we had discussed a while back. We set a definitive date—next weekend.

Then we talked about Delilah. Not about her death, but about our memories with her. How much it sucked that she was gone. How much we would miss her. And what the hell I was going to do with the gifts I’d gotten her.

When we reached that point, a pit collapsed through the center of my stomach. My chest got tight. My eyes burned. That thunderous storm swelled in the center of my core, and I pushed it away. I said something to Lizzie about how holly jolly of a day it had been, and she laughed at the dark irony, and the subject shifted onto the next piano song she wanted me to teach her.

By then, the bacon was browning, the French toast was getting cold, and Sebastian was kicking off his boots at the front door. He came in, and we sat, and we ate, and we had a holly jolly morning.

So much was wrong still. With me, with the world, with the justice system, with Sebastian, with the entire basis of our relationship. Twelve hours ago, I’d begged him to help me murder a man.

But it was our first Christmas together, and I wanted it to be holly and jolly, God damn it.

Everything that was wrong could wait. I just wanted one holly jolly day.

When we were done eating, the clock read 12:30. Dinner would start around three. Sebastian offered to take me to my car in town on our way back, which added a few minutes of travel time, but also insisted that we needed to get the piano to my cabin. So why not leave now?

We did just that.

After figuring out how to get the piano out of his house, anyway. Sebastian and I tried to lift it—even Lizzie helped—but to no avail. The thing had to have been three hundred pounds, maybe more. Sebastian found a dolly in the garage, and we loaded it onto there. As far as getting it into the bed of his truck? That involved placing a couple of boards on the edge of the bed to create a ramp. It was then mine and Lizzie’s job to hold those boards in place while he pushed the dolly up.

I almost squished my fingers beneath the dolly tire, but we accomplished our goal.

From there, we loaded into the truck and took off. We stopped in Black Pines to pick up my car, then drove in tandem to the ranch. Now that we had a routine, unloading the piano was far easier than loading it. We got it into the cabin and set it up. Lizzie was right. After we moved the end table by the fireplace, it fit neatly beneath the window there.

Still ambivalent, I expressed my gratitude with a few more thank-yous and a hug.

The clock read 2:36 by then. We loaded into the truck and headed down to town.

Once we unloaded, just as we were starting into the cafeteria, I caught sight of blue-black hair peeking out beneath a familiar black puffer coat. Through the falling snow, our eyes met. She wore a big red scarf that disguised most of her face, but her brown eyes said it all.

Simone.

“Hey, guys, I’ll catch up,” I said to Sebastian and Lizzie. “Save me a seat?”

Sebastian glanced at Simone, then pressed a kiss to my forehead. “See you in there.”

As the two of them scampered off, I leaned against the wall of the cafeteria doors. I held it open for a couple people heading inside. After a few more strides, when she was only a dozen yards from the door, I started in her direction.

“Where’s Junie?” I asked, glancing around.

“Already inside with Rhiannon and Axel.” Simone tugged down her scarf. “I just had to run back to my place to get her an extra shirt. She spilled her drink.”

“As kids do.” Forcing a smile, my deep breath smoked before my face. “I’m sorry. For snapping at you yesterday. I don’t even remember everything I said. I was just⁠—”

“Grieving.” Her eyes glossed over. “I know. And you’re right. If anyone has a good leash around her feelings, a better one around their thoughts, it’s you.”

“Yeah, but you were right too.” I frowned. People walked past us on either side in little groups, so I remained mindful of my volume. And my phrasing. “Getting shit-faced drunk isn’t the best way to handle my emotions. After we left, I ranted and raved at Sebastian for hours. Then I smacked the bottle of apple juice into the kitchen cabinet, shattered it, and stepped in the glass. On both feet, somehow. And spent another hour puking my guts out.”

She snorted a laugh. “Both feet?”

“Got a wad of gauze on the left and a big old Band-Aid on the right.” Acknowledging it reminded me of the pain, made it more noticeable. I shifted onto my left foot to avoid the ache in the right.

She laughed some more, and I did too. As it faded to silence, her smile fell. “Maybe you needed that. Not the injured feet, but the crash-out. I mean, you were right yesterday. I am always telling you to open up more. It was good you did. I’m sure it feels a little better now that you let it all out.”

I made it through most of the day without crying, so I couldn’t disagree with her there. “Probably. But I still shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “So am I. Let’s not fight anymore, alright? I don’t like it.”

“Me neither.” I chuckled and opened my arms. She opened hers. We wrapped them around one another, and we hugged, and breaths came even easier than they had this morning. “Let’s have a holly jolly Christmas.”