Page 106 of Release Me

I’d thought it an odd choice, but I figured he was once again trying to ease me into celebrating another new beginning. Now, judging by the look on his face, I see that I was wrong. My heart starts to pound.

“You did send them right, babe?” I ask the question even though I already know the answer. Even though I know that if Sebastian didn’t send them then there’s only one other person in this world who would have.

My stomach turns, and the small meal I forced myself to eat before I came into work today starts to work its way up my throat. I slap my hand to my mouth and rush around Sebastian to get to the bathroom. He’s right behind me as I bend over the toilet and retch until my ribs ache and my throat burns, rubbing small circles on my back with one hand while the other holds my hair away from my face.

When I’m upright again, he steps back, giving me room to go to the sink and rid my mouth of the taste of despair clinging to my tongue with the toothbrush I’ve taken to keeping in here. Thankfully, he waits until I’ve finished pulling myself together to request an explanation with a silent stretching of his eyes through the mirror. I train my eyes on the reflection of his.

“The first time you sent me flowers, you sent white lilies.” He nods but remains quiet. I swallow around the lump in my throat that’s blocking the rest of my explanation. Why can’t we just be happy? Why does every good thing in my life have to be accompanied by a devastating reminder of the bad. “When I saw them waiting for me in front of my room at the motel, I froze because I thought they were from Beau.”

Sebastian tries to keep his cool, but I see his protective side flaring up, more lethal and potent now than it was even a day ago because he’s not just protecting me now, he’s protecting the life we created together.

“The first time he beat me, he gave me flowers. White lilies because they were his mother’s favorite. It became a routine. Choke Nyla until she passes out and can’t swallow for weeks, and then buy her flowers to remind her that you think she deserves this because your mother died in the same plane crash she lost both of her parents in. Throw Nyla down a flight of steps and fracture her sternum then make her leave the hospital before she can actually get medical attention. Punch Nyla so hard the ring you always wear leaves imprints of the letter M in her skin and buy her white lilies to remind her that she deserve the pain.”

My eyes fall shut, and images of every beating, every bruise and cut play behind my eyelids. My voice is nothing more than a fearful shudder when I continue.

“Crack a vase of those same flowers across Nyla’s head when she refuses to accept them after you break her arm and then use the biggest shard to slice up the inside of her thigh while you give her a lesson on anatomy and how long it takes to bleed out when your femoral artery has been severed. He didn’t buy me flowers after that.”

Sebastian curses, and I feel the rage coming off of him seeping into my skin as he pulls out his phone and starts typing, presumably sending a message to Russ and the rest of the team. I allow the heat of it to soak into me, to warm me from the outside in, but it’s still not enough to ward off the shiver from the fear that’s lodged itself into my bones.

“If you didn’t send those flowers, Sebastian, that means Beau did. That means he’s found me, and I’m not—” my hand goes to my stomach as I turn around to face him “we’re not safe.”

Just moments ago, I was happy. Hopeful. Excited for the days ahead, for a life with the good kind of uncertainty for once. Now I’m just afraid. Now I’m just sad. Now I’m just angry because how dare Beau try to touch my happiness with his bullshit? How dare he try to poison the life I built here with my own two hands?

Sebastian sees the shift in my eyes, and his glitter with the same kind of determination, allowing him to shift gears. To exchange the words of comfort I’m sure were lingering on his tongue for other, more informative ones.

“Tyler and Enzo were the closest to the building,” he says, glancing at his phone where the report must have just come through. “They said there’s no note, so we don’t have any way of knowing for sure that they’re from Beau.”

“They’re from him, Sebastian. I know it.”

“I believe you, precious.” He runs a soothing hand down my back, trying to calm me. “That’s why we won’t be going home tonight. Russ is already scrubbing through security footage while Tyler and Enzo try to find out if the person who left them works for a local florist shop.”

Something about the way he phrases that statement sparks an image of Beau in my building and at my doorstep leaving those flowers for me. Just the thought sends a fresh wave of fear through me. It sweeps away every bit of the anger, leaving nothing but crippling terror. “You think it was him at the door? You think he left the flowers?”

I watched the man approach with the bouquet, but nothing about him seemed familiar through the lens and distance provided by the camera. He was tall, average height and weight. Just like Beau. He was also wearing a hoodie with the hood pulled up and around his face. That didn’t strike me as odd since it’s been so cool outside, but now that I think about it, it could have easily been an attempt to obscure his features from the camera.

“His picture has been given to every security person and staff member in our building, so that’s not likely, but we still have to explore the possibility.”

“Right.” I nod, wishing any of those words were comforting.

Sebastian steps in close, and his fingers go under my chin, lifting until my eyes are on his. “You’re safe, okay? I got you. I’m right here, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” His hand goes to my stomach. “To either of you. We’ll stay here tonight. I’ll have Russ and the entire team post up outside, and I’ll watch over you as you sleep. Whatever it takes to make you feel safe.”

“I’ll feel safest in your arms.”

He reaches out his hand to me, and I take it, allowing him to haul me into his orbit. He drops a kiss on my temple. “Then you’ll sleep in my arms, and once we know what’s what, then we’ll go home.”

“Tomorrow. We’ll go home tomorrow.”

“Nadia, I don’t know if?—”

“Promise me, Sebastian. Tomorrow we go home.”

It’s not fair of me to ask him to promise me an outcome that’s so far out of his control. I know that, but I also know that I need the certainty, the confidence I don’t have and can only get from him.

“I promise. We’ll have all of this figured out by tomorrow.”

38

SEBASTIAN

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