Chapter 13

The park felt different now. Quieter, somehow. As if it had absorbed the lingering tension and hope we left behind on that weathered bench beneath the swaying tree limbs. I kept thinking about the way Sebastian had looked at me, as though I was the only person in the world who mattered. And I wanted—so badly—to believe that was true.

But the moment we stepped back into the city’s rhythm, the spell started to fade.

I walked slightly ahead of him on the way back to his car, not because I was trying to get away, but because I was afraid if I looked at him too long, I'd start asking questions I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear the answers to. What did he mean when he said there was more to him than I knew? Why did his touch always seem to burn deeper than anyone else's ever had? And why did a piece of me feel like I’d always been waiting for him?

I hated feeling uncertain. The bakery, my little world of flour and butter and sugar, made sense. Ingredients followed rules. Heat transformed, but didn’t lie. You knew when something had risen too much, or not enough. Life? Feelings? People? Not so simple.

Sebastian was… intense. Confident in a way that should’ve terrified me, but instead it made me want to crawl closer, just to feel some of his certainty rub off on me. I couldn’t deny how my body responded to him. Or how, since that night, I hadn’t been able to stop reliving every sound, every touch, every whispered word against my skin. I’d never felt so wanted. And now? I’d never wanted someone back more.

But that scared me too. Wanting someone meant giving them a piece of you to break.

I leaned my head against the cool window as we drove back. I was tired, but my mind wouldn’t settle. Every now and then, I’d sneak glances at Sebastian—his fingers resting lightly on the wheel, his jaw ticking as if he were lost in thought. Something heavy seemed to press on him too.

I wanted to ask him. About what he meant in the park. About why he seemed to hold secrets behind those storm-gray eyes. But I was afraid of pushing too hard. Of ruining the fragile, beautiful thing we were building before it could bloom.

So instead, I reached out and let my hand rest over his on the gearshift. His eyes flicked to me for a second, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a smile that made my stomach flutter.

We didn’t need to speak.

When we got back to my apartment, I expected him to kiss me goodnight. Maybe whisper something sweet in my ear and then disappear until tomorrow. But instead, he followed me inside without a word, his hand resting gently on the small of my back like it belonged there.

Cassidy wasn’t home. The apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant sounds of the city drifting through the window.

Sebastian kicked off his shoes near the door like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Do you mind if I stay a little while?” he asked, his voice low.

I didn’t trust my voice to answer, so I just nodded and went to the kitchen. My hands were shaking as I poured two glasses of water. I felt him behind me before I heard him—his warmth, his scent, his presence blanketing me like a second skin.

“You always run when you get overwhelmed,” he said softly.

I froze, the glass halfway to my lips. “I don’t run.”

“You do.” He stepped closer, brushing the hair off my shoulder. “You get scared. And then you pull away.”

I turned around, placing the glass on the counter so I wouldn’t drop it. “Maybe I do. But can you blame me?” My voice cracked. “You make me feel things I’ve never felt. And I’m terrified it’s all too good to be true.”

Sebastian’s face shifted, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he cupped my cheek in one hand, his thumb stroking gently under my eye. “It is good,” he said. “But it’s not too good. It’s real.”

I didn’t know how to respond. So I just leaned in. Pressed my forehead to his chest and let myself breathe him in. I felt his arms wrap around me, strong and steady, anchoring me to the present moment.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I whispered. “I’ve never done this before—any of it. Not just sex, but feelings. Being with someone. Letting them in.”

His hands rubbed soothing circles on my back. “Neither have I, Audrey. Not like this.”

I pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. “You say things like that, but… I still feel like you’re keeping something from me.”

He tensed, just for a second, but then it was gone. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said slowly. “Things I haven’t shared because… I didn’t want to scare you away.”

“Like what?”

He hesitated. His jaw clenched. And then, with a sigh, he said, “Things I promise to tell you. Soon. But not tonight.”

Part of me wanted to push. To demand honesty. But the look in his eyes wasn’t avoidance—it was protection. For me, or for himself, I couldn’t tell. So I let it go. For now.

Instead, I nodded. “Okay.”

And then he kissed me. Soft at first. Reverent. As if trying to say all the words he couldn’t with his mouth pressed to mine.

I melted into it, arms circling his neck, my body molding to his. We stayed like that for a while, in the quiet of my kitchen, tasting each other like a promise neither of us was ready to speak out loud.

Eventually, he pulled away. “You can stay.” I whispered softly feeling my eyes start to water with the thought of him not being here next to me.

He slowly got up. “If I don’t leave now you won’t get any rest.”

I didn’t want him to leave. I wanted him to crawl into bed with me and wrap me up in his warmth. But I also knew I needed space. Just a little. To breathe. To think.

“Okay,” I said softly.

He brushed a kiss to my forehead and headed toward the door.

As I watched him go, something inside me shifted. I wasn’t sure what it was yet—maybe fear, maybe hope—but I knew this wasn’t over. Whatever was building between us, it wasn’t fragile anymore.

It was growing roots.

And I was finally ready to stop running.