Page 81 of Heart Break Her

“Since I joined the tour?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Since I met you.”

“After the unplugged show?”

He nods.

A whole week before my world imploded, and he showed up at my doorstep.

“Why?” It’s a fair question. He’s had no reason to be faithful to me. We didn’t even have sex until a few days ago. He didn’t owe me any kind of loyalty.

I’ve never thought of Sebastian as a liar, but this comment trips me up.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” He scrubs his palm over his face and tips his head back, closing his eyes. He sits like that for a minute while he thinks.

When he finally looks back at me, there’s something edging on pain in his expression.

“I was a mess when I met you,” he says. “Pretty much had been for the better part of a year. And I’m not talking about thedrugs-and-partying-rock-star kind of mess. I’m talking about the wishing-I’d-finally-do-enough-to-fucking-kill-myself-to-put-myself-out-of-my-miserykind.”

I swallow a hard lump in my throat because I’d gotten the impression the night I met him that there was something fractured inside him. Something much darker under the surface of those honey-brown eyes trying to kick its way out. But for him to say he was hurting enough to wish he could end it… my heart breaks a little at the thought.

“When I met you, I kind of thought I was hallucinating.” He laughs, but it’s not with amusement. “I thought you were some kind of angel who was going to either save me or finally give me the end I deserve.”

“Don’t say that.” I squeeze his hand.

Sebastian shakes his head. “It’s true, there’s still a lot you don’t know about me. About what I’ve done…”

He doesn’t elaborate, and as much as I want to know what he’s talking about, as much as I want to know everything, I get the message that now is not the time to ask.

“Meeting you brought some kind of life back into me, and don’t ask me what that means because, honestly, I have no fucking clue. But ever since then, nothing feels right—no one feels right—except you.”

Sebastian leans in and brushes his hand over my cheek, tracing his fingers down my throat like he’s memorizing me.

“I couldn’t have been with someone else, even if I tried. And I did try, I’m not going to bullshit you. But—” He pauses. “What? You’re giving me a look.”

I let out a deep sigh. “It’s not that I doubt you or anything, and you don’t have to say this all for my sake because I was well aware of what I was getting into—I was warned against it actually. But I’ve seen you with other women. On your arm, kissing them…”

It’s really hard not to gag. Really, really hard.

“I didn’t fuck them,” he says.

I wait for him to elaborate. Instead, he leaves it at that.

“But,” he says, “I don’t do girlfriends. Shit gets complicated.”

And there it is, reality peeking its way in.

“So, what are you saying?” I frown. “Because I didn’t ask to be your girlfriend.”

“I don’t want you fucking other people,” he says, about as blunt as it gets.

“I’m not.”

“Okay then.” He stares at me.

“Are you going to be fucking other people?”

It wasn’t something I intended on bringing up, or even expected of someone like him. But if he’s going to throw down the gauntlet, then I have enough respect for myself to throw my own back.

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