Page 47 of Knotting on Heaven's Door

“Nope.” He leaned back and gestured confidently. “Take a left at the next light. I moved into my new apartment today.”

The way he said it—like he’d just conquered a mountain—pulled a smile out of me before I could stop it.

“Well, look at you,” I said, turning the corner. “Functioningadult and everything.”

“I know,” he said dramatically. “Only took catastrophic failure, financial ruin, and public humiliation. But hey, I got there.”

I laughed—couldn’t help it. And gods, it felt good.

The drive was short, maybe ten minutes, with the low thrum of tires on pavement and the distant buzz of my car’s glitchy speakers. A song from theFine Young Cannibalscame on, all sharp vocals and funky bass, and I didn’t think much of it—until Sebastian turned his head, looked right at me, and started humming.

Not casually either. No, this man gave itdrama.

“She drives me crazy…” he sang under his breath, in the most off-key falsetto imaginable, tapping the beat against his thigh and grinning like an idiot. “Ooh ooh… like no one else…”

I gave him a look. “Seriously?”

He pointed at me, eyebrows raised. “Tell me it’s not true.”

I rolled my eyes, but my mouth betrayed me—smiling anyway. “I’m never letting you touch my radio again.”

“Too late. I’ve imprinted on it. This playlist is now part of my soul.”

By the time we parked outside a squat brick building with peeling paint and flower boxes someone clearly tried to make cute, his grin had only grown.

“I’d invite you up,” he said, reaching for the handle, “but until my next paycheck, all I’ve got up there is a mattress on the floor and a half-unpacked box of kitchen knives. Very serial killer chic.”

I laughed again, tired but genuinely amused. “Sounds cozy.”

He turned to look at me, and in the dim light his blue eyes practicallyglowed—warm, teasing, just a little too knowing.

“Good night, Sebastian,” I said, trying to keep my voice even.

He leaned in slightly, just enough to send a spark across myskin. “Good night, boss.”

And then he was gone, jogging up the stairs two at a time, disappearing into the dark with that light still clinging to him like he didn’t even know he was carrying it.

I sat there for a moment longer, smiling to myself like an idiot.

Dammit.

CHAPTER 11

Sebastian

After three nights of sleeping on that damn mattress, I woke up feeling like I’d lost a street fight to a drunk bear.

My neck was stiff. My spine was ninety percent betrayal and ten percent regret. Every time I turned my head, something cracked—probably my last shred of youthful arrogance.

So when I walked into the kitchen Monday morning and winced just from glancing left, Mia caught it immediately.

“Why are you moving like an eighty-year-old alpha who slept wrong during full moon?” she asked, narrowing her eyes like I was a suspect in a crime.

“Ididsleep wrong,” I muttered, flexing my shoulder. “Turns out, foam mattresses are a scam. Especially the thirty-dollar ones you buy off sketchy warehouse apps.”

She winced. “Oof. Been there. Still got your receipt?”

I gave her a look. “I bought it from a man named Tito who delivered it in the back of a pickup truck. There was no receipt. Just regret.”

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