Page 31 of Please Hate Me

“To be honest, my case isn’t. But the cases I help close… Let’s just say, I need to be in the right place at the right time.”

“Why?”

Rapid blinks clouded Sebastian’s eyes, and he hesitated, almost like he was close to telling me something he legally shouldn’t.

I had asked Seb about his job a few different times, and each time he explained that most of the details were classified. I knew he was in Hartwood investigating a cult calledThe Sons of Christ,but that was the most I was allowed to know. Despite countless late-night internet searches, I couldn’t find any further information. How did Sebastian evenbeginto solve these cases with nothing to go on?

Eventually, he cleared his throat and answered my question. “Let’s just say... I need to know exactly where the suspect is so that I can handle them.”

“...Isn’t that dangerous?”

“No more questions.” he stated, leaning over to kiss my forehead. As his lips brushed against my skin, I realized he’d taken his piercings out.

“Are you leaving now?”

He nodded slowly, and I wanted to cry. But I fought back the tears. I was a grown woman. I had no reason to cry just because my boyfriend was leaving for a few days.

“I’m going to church and then driving down to Massachusetts,” he explained.

My nose wrinkled at the idea of church. Still, I wanted to spend more time with him.

“Can I come with you?”

His breathing stuttered. “Absolutely not.”

He must have been able to tell I was offended by the look on my face, because he instantly launched into defending his reaction.

“It’s not that I don’t want you with me.” he continued. “I just don’t want you to miss breakfast with Sophia. I also know church isn’t really your thing.”

“It’s not yours either,” I argued.

Despite being raised in the same Catholic family as Lucian, Sebastian strayed away from religion as soon as he had the chance. I once heard him call Christianity a cult. So... why would he go to church?

The gears in my mind were rusty from years of not having to think for myself, but that didn’t mean they weren’t operational. Just as the old cogs began grinding into motion, my daughter kicked the man who’d be acting as her father, causing his hand torise slightly. Sebastian seemed just as amazed now as he’d been last night.

“Do you think we would have started dating if I didn’t get pregnant?” It was a strange question—I was the one who fought his advances for years. But right now, I couldn’t picture life without Seb, nor did I want to. His blue eyes slid over me, taking his time in certain places and not others. I wondered what he was looking for.

“Do I think we would have dated? Yes. But I firmly believe it would have taken longer.”

“Why?”

Sebastian blew out a breath, vibrating his lips in the process. “Ah, well—You’re going to hit me if I tell you.”

“I’ve never hit you.”

“That doesn’t mean you won’t.”

I forced myself up onto one elbow to stare him down. But my intensity was undercut by the weird nausea that followed me anytime my stomach was empty. I probably had fifteen minutes to choke something down before I’d be sick.

Still, I had time to argue.

“I wouldnever.”

He smirked before pulling me back to the mattress. Being horizontal helped my nausea. Sebastian knew this.

“Do you know what a Tootsie Pop is?”

I blinked twice. Part of me wanted to remind him I had lived in America for six years; plenty of time to become familiar with the local sweets. And, more importantly, that they were his brother’s favorite candy—specifically, the blue ones.

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