Page 142 of Last Man Standing

“On my orders,” she insists. “My fears. My responsibility. He’s not due back for a little while, my husband is on the other side of the property, and my second son is far enough away he won’t hear my yelp when you punch me in the face.”

Just imagining a scenario where I could sock Arabella freakin’ Aster in the nose makes me giggle.

“Say whatever you want to say,” she presses. “Hit me if you need to hit me. Do whatever you feel you need to do, so when Sebastion arrives back, you’ll have worked through your resentment and none of it lands on him.”

“I’ve suspected my texts and calls were being monitored for a while.”

“You…” Her eyes grow wide. “Really?”

“I mean…” I drag the sleeves of my sweater down over my hands and nibble on my thumbnail. “Yeah. I didn’t tell him it was my birthday: he still baked me a cake.”

“We baked you a cake!” Koda chirps loudly. “I helped! And then my poop the next day came out pink!”

I gesture toward the boy as though to say see? Exactly.

“I mentioned horses to my brother in text, and soon after that, I met Jasper.” I glance toward the handsome beast who watches us through mildly intolerant eyes. We’re too noisy. “I already suspected these things,” I admit quietly. “And yet, I chose action… falling in love, instead of inaction; freezing up. My suspicions were confirmed when I overheard you at the table last night. And still, I chose to love him.” I press my hand to my heart. “Even though it hurt.”

“Will you continue to choose him?” she whimpers. “Even though I’ve shown you nothing but hostility and hate? Even though you’d be well within your rights to walk away and forget us altogether?”

“Y—”

“Because I’ll beg if I need to. I’ll stay away, if that’s what you need. If you want to be with him, but you’re worried I’ll be the constantly interfering mother-in-law, I’ll make a promise to you now to never show my face again.”

“No, I…” Shaking my head, I take a step back and watch in real time how the formidable Arabella Aster’s hope crumbles. “I can’t accept your terms. I’m sorry.”

“I’ve stopped existing once already,” she pleads desperately. “For him, I simply disappeared. I could do it again.” She gulps. Nods. “For him.”

“But that would make him sad.” I take her hand and sandwich it between my palms. “To love someone means we want them to be happy, right? To love him is to know he loves the mother who died three decades ago to keep him safe.”

She chokes out a tearful whimper. “Scarlett⁠—”

“Maybe don’t shout at me anymore,” I snicker. “And don’t look at me like I set your cat on fire. Trust me to love your son enough to know he would never be happy if I let you disappear again, and I’ll trust you enough to know there are no lengths you won’t go to, to ensure his happiness. In the end, we kinda want the same thing, right?”

“To love him?” She swipes her cheeks. “To make sure he’s safe and happy.”

“Exactly. And if it’s not too much trouble, maybe you could have someone teach me how to buckle a saddle on a horse, because I really liked riding Jasper that time, and Koda suggested we could take him and Cinderella out on a walk together.”

“I’ll teach you,” she tearfully snickers. “Promise.”

“And when I leave here, which I will at some point, because I have a home somewhere else, you could trust that I love Sebastion enough not to tell the secret.”

She nods, swinging her head wildly up and down.

“Even though I’m pretty certain I know where we are, and if I tried really hard, I could probably find my way back.”

She coughs out a snotty, sniffly giggle. “I sincerely hope you do. You’re welcome in my home, Scarlett. Always.”

“I heard you’re pretty amazing at Super Mario, too, so maybe we could⁠—”

“Scarlett?”

I wrench my head around and lock eyes with those of my friend. My guide. My confidant, sometimes, when my confession wasn’t as scary as my silence. But instead of staring at me, he wheels awed eyes to Arabella. “I wondered,” he breathes. “I suspected. But I thought it couldn’t be true.”

“Who are you?” Arabella becomes that fierce woman I met on my first night here. The soldier. The soldadera who commands her own army. Painfully grabbing Koda by the shoulder and eliciting a cry from deep in his chest, she tears him around to stand behind her back, and while I merely stare, frozen in place, and watch in horrified fascination as Detective Mills pulls a gun from his holster, Arabella angles her body and stands in front of me, too. “Name,” she orders viciously. “Now.”

44

SEBASTION