Page 44 of Just a Heartbeat Away

Seb shrugged. “I should probably try to start breaking him of the habit of only drinking my water. Like, it’s gotta be a control thing, right? But the truth is, I think it’s kind of cute. And someday he’s not even gonna wanna be seen with me. So whatever, the kid wants to share water? That’s cool with me.”

Via’s cheeks were pink and her eyes wide and dark at the same time. She wore no makeup today, and it made Seb realize that she must usually wear some to school because she looked just a little different. Around the eyes. Her brown hair was up in a messy bun and she wore two gold studs in her ears. He thought she looked casual and, honestly, a little stunning, in her white shirt and jeans. He found it both the easiest and the hardest thing to keep looking at her. His eyes vibrated with the tension of holding her gaze.

And when she smiled and left the kitchen, taking the water to Matty, Seb felt like he’d been released from some sort of invisible force field.

When he returned to the dining room, he was amazed to see Tyler with a flush creeping up from his collar. Serafine was talking to him, and it seemed he was a little flustered. He’d never seen his friend thrown so far off his game before.

Via returned, telling Seb that Matty was asking for him, and he was back in his son’s room in a flash. The lamplight was dim in theCars-themed room; red sports cars smiled down from the wallpaper runner on every side. Seb glanced up and was relieved that Via had seen it mostly tidy. The drawers on Matty’s dresser were closed and the books on his shelves were mostly lined up. His stuffed animals and craft table were another story, but he was a kid. Seb couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Hey, buster. How are you feeling?” Seb crouched at the edge of Matty’s bed, adjusting the ancient Charlie Brown sheets that had been Seb’s as a kid. A wiggling lump under the covers by Matty’s feet told Seb exactly where Crabby had chosen to take a nap. He scratched at Crabby’s back through the blanket and watched as the misshapen lump obviously rolled onto his back, belly in the air, even under the covers.

Both Seb and Matty laughed, but Matty’s chuckle was subdued. “I don’t feel good, Daddy.”

“I know, buddy.” Seb scraped a hand across Matty’s forehead, feeling for a fever, even though he’d never had any idea what a fever really felt like. The kid had a naturally hot forehead anyway. But his hair and the collar of his pajamas weren’t sweaty, so he figured that was a good thing.

“I’m sleepy but I can’t sleep. My body won’t let me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I try to sleep but I keep shaking, and it wakes me up.”

“Yeah. Those are the chills from your fever.” Seb’s heart broke a little as he reached into the closet and pulled out another blanket to tuck around his son. When he turned back around, Matty had his hands tucked under his chin and a tear was leaking from the corner of his eye. Matty had always had teary eyes. Just like his daddy. But Seb knew, instinctively, that this was a real tear.

He crouched next to the bed and slung a heavy arm over his son, holding him close for a second. Matty’s familiar scent washed over him. His kid had always smelled like dinner rolls. Weird but true.

“What’s wrong?”

“I wish Grandma was here.”

“Grandma Sullivan?” Seb tried not to sound quite so astonished. Muriel was competent and confident and...harsh as hell. She was the last person on Earth that Seb would have wanted around while he was sick. She wasn’t nurturing in the least, and it surprised the heck out of him that Matty would want her right now.

But then the reason sifted down and gently landed on Seb. It started out light and became heavier and heavier as it settled over him. Muriel was exactly like her daughter. Matty didn’t want Muriel. Not really. He wanted Cora. He was sick and wanted his mommy.

Fuck.Seb squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead against Matty’s shoulder. Pain, acute and old at the same time, washed right through him. Right after Cora had died, he’d naively waited for the day that he wouldn’t feel this excruciating sadness over the loss of her. It was far less frequent, but he knew now that it would never be gone. Not really.

“I’m gonna send my friends home, and you and me will watch a movie, okay?” He paused. “And I’ll call Grandma Sullivan and see if she wants to come stay for a day or two this week.”

“No, Daddy. Don’t send them home. I like having them here. One of them is a witch. They can stay. But can I watch a movie still?”

Seb laughed a little at his breathless little boy. At everything the kid wanted. His yo-yo of emotions. He planted a kiss on Matty’s hair, smelling like familiar shampoo and sick kid. “Of course.”

He set up the movie, and by the time he got back out to the main room, they’d mostly cleared up breakfast. The group sat with their coffee cups in the living room, and Seb was relieved to see that they looked a bit more relaxed.

“Seb,” Mary called. “Via wanted to see your workshop, remember?”

“Oh right. Now?” He wondered if he should ask if Fin also wanted a tour, but she seemed comfortable where she was.

“Sure.” Via rose and took her coffee cup with her as he led her out the back door and through the postage stamp–size backyard.

He caught Via smiling at the swing set he’d installed for Matty. “It’s nice that you have an actual house. For Matty to grow up in, I mean.”

“Yeah. We were both done living in an apartment building. Here we are.”

They strolled up to a converted garage with an old elm tree shooting yellow sprays of color from every branch and grass a month past a necessary trim. Sebastian bent and unlocked a padlock before rolling up the aluminum garage door and flicking on a few lamps in various corners.

“Sebastian!” Via gasped as she walked into the garage and turned a slow circle on the spot. “Good Lord! How many pieces are you working on at one time?”

He couldn’t tell if she was impressed or put off by the organized chaos that bore down on them from every side. He chuckled and scraped a worn palm over his beard, as much in need of a trim as the grass in his yard. When you were a single father, you had to learn to let some things slide. The noise of his stubble against his dry skin was loud in the sudden quiet. He chuckled to himself, because he was seeing the garage workshop from her eyes and because he was nervous. Good and nervous. Like a damned teenager.

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