⚠️ this chapter contains the topics that might be triggering for some readers

After my birthday celebration with Cara, I'm too drunk to drive, which leaves me no choice but to call Kenny.

Cara and I stand in the driveway, waiting for him. The evening is surprisingly balmy, and the air carries the scent of blooming trees.

"What's going to happen to all this?" Cara motions to our surroundings with her hand. "So many memories. It's your home, too."

I hug Cara's shoulders, and she leans into my side. "I wish I knew," I say. "I can't even talk to my father, and The Flavor is closed. I guess once they let me see him, I'll ask, and if the authorities confiscate everything, I'll use my trust to pay the staff."

Cara clicks her tongue, looking at me as if I've spewed nonsense. "With your trust money? No way in hell, Tara."

"I will if I don't have a choice. Don't argue."

A cab pulls over, and I unlock the gates to let Kenny in. Cara ogles him openly as he strolls toward us. "Even better in person," she whispers, fanning herself.

Smiling, I watch Cara and Kenny get acquainted. He can charm the hell out of anyone effortlessly, and Cara is easy prey.

"Well, it's been my pleasure," Kenny says ten minutes later when I fail to mask a yawn," but our birthday girl's tired."

Cara kisses me and waits until Kenny and I get in my Maserati.

I stretch in the passenger seat to get rid of the stiffness in my muscles. "Thanks for picking me up," I say. "I'll need my car tomorrow, so you saved me."

Kenny starts the vehicle and drives onto the road. "You're welcome. I'm glad you chose to celebrate today. Oh, and someone left a gift for you at the store."

I know it was Sebastian, but what he chose to give me is a mystery. For the remainder of the drive, I reign in my curiosity and answer Kenny's questions about my day, but as soon as we're home, I head to the living room where the gift is waiting for me.

It's lying on the coffee table, wrapped in red paper.

I pick it up and rid it of the packaging carefully. As soon as I see what's inside, a mix of love and sadness shakes me to the core.

Mom and I sit on a bench, holding ice cream cones. She looks at me, smiling like she did in the picture I keep on the nightstand in my childhood bedroom. The Italian cafe we used to frequent is behind us, and stretched above us is the cloudless sky.

Bast would say it's azure. He captured every detail of the atmosphere based on my story alone, giving me a colorful memory that will never fade.

Kenny walks up and draws an arm around my shoulders. We look at the framed painting together for a few moments.

"It's hard not to love someone who sees what nobody else does," he says.

I press the picture to my chest and nod.

***

In the morning, I shower and put on Kenny's birthday gift - a hoodie with his design and sweats he made specially for me.

"I think if you post pictures of my clothes, you'll get requests for a women’s clothing line," I tell him later as we stroll down the street, coffees in hand.

"Never say never." Kenny looks skyward, his chest rising with a deep inhale. "I'm glad you loved your gift."

"How could I not? It's stunning. And comfy. Perfect for a Sunday stroll with a friend."

Kenny tries to hide his smirk behind his Americano, but I see it. "What?"

He takes a long sip. "Nothing. I just wanted to remind you it's Sunday indeed, and you could be strolling down the street with Seb."

My cheeks heat in the most absurd way. "I thanked him for the gift. I can't just call him. Maybe he's busy."

"I'm pretty sure he'd clear his agenda for you. You're just scared, Atla, but you shouldn't be."

I down my drink and pivot to return to Kenny's place. Although he doesn't comment on how his words got to me, a satisfied smile lifts the corners of his mouth.

Perhaps he's right, and it's the fear of the unknown, of a serious relationship, of being honest, of finding something genuine and losing it.

Kenny heads to the kitchen while I go to my room to do at least something work- or college-related.

My bed was a mess when we went out. It's made now.

And scattered over the white sheets are dead butterflies.

I step back, bumping my shoulder against the doorframe. "Kenny."

What should be a scream comes out as a hoarse whisper, and my legs disobey my brain's command to move.

"Kenny."

"You got this. Just call the guy," Kenny yells from the kitchen.

I clench my eyes shut. When I open them, my gaze drifts to the sinister display on my bed.

"Ah, wait, your phone's here."

Kenny's feet slap against the carpet. I feel his warmth behind me, and his hand wraps around my forearm. "What the..."

"I don't know," I mutter, shaking. "Someone must've..."

Kenny yanks me backward and slams my bedroom door shut. "We need to call the police. And Sebastian."

He sounds agitated as he calls detective Solano from my phone, and there's an edgy note to his voice when he talks to Bast. All I do is sit on the couch and stare at the coffee table.

"Seb will be here soon," Kenny says, crouching before me. "Are you okay?"

I rub my face with my palms until my skin feels hot and starts stinging. "No, but I will be. I just need a moment."

When the intercom buzzes twenty minutes later, Kenny dashes to the foyer to open the door. I rise from the couch, and as several instants pass, the air leaks from my lungs at the sight of Bast's worried expression.

My sight meanders his face and body, cataloging everything, from the gray sweats and dark green hoodie he's wearing to his rumpled hair and the light stubble on his jaw.

Bast's eyes size me up with the same intensity. A few faltering steps later, he's by my side.

"Is your father coming?" Kenny asks, entering the living room.

Sebastian glances toward him. "They're on their way. Should be here in twenty if they don't hit the traffic. Dad said not to touch anything until they arrive."

"We didn't." Kenny runs a hand through his short hair. "That's just insane. We were away for an hour. To think that someone broke into the apartment...how did they even enter the building?"

"Wish I fucking knew." Bast's lips thin, and a frown line appears between his eyes. "But as soon as the police let Tara go, she's coming with me. Do you have anywhere to stay meanwhile?"

Kenny assents with a downward jut of his chin. "Don't worry about me. We need to make sure Tara's safe."

If I were less rattled, I'd butt in and say I'm the one to decide whether to go or stay. But my mind is replaying the image of the fragile wings someone broke, and my gut tells me it's not a coincidence.

The three of us wait for the detectives. When they arrive, followed by the officers, Kenny's apartment turns into a crime movie scene. They take pictures and dust for fingerprints, and we answer their questions.

"Have you heard from Maverick Hull, Tara?" detective Solano asks during one of his brief appearances in the living room.

I shake my head. "No."

"Tell him about the necklace," Kenny whispers.

Bast's dad joins his colleague, and they listen to the story Cara told me. Bast mentions running into Blake, and I give them the list I found behind the photograph in Mom's locker.

It feels as if we're tossing more puzzle pieces onto the pile without having a clue what the picture we're making is like.

Detective Solano takes out his phone and leaves the room, my mom's list in hand.

Mr. Hutches looks at me. "It's best if you stay somewhere safe for a few days, Tara. We're inclined to believe the latest events weren't coincidental. If what you told us is the motive, you might be in danger. We're going to check more things here, but you can leave."
He retrieves a car key from his pocket and gives it to Bast. "Do as I told you."

Sebastian nods. "Get your stuff, Tara. If they let you."

Detective Hutches accompanies me to my bedroom. If having someone who wants you dead isn't weird enough, packing underwear with three officers and a detective in the room sure is.

I stuff some tees, jeans, and sweaters in a bag and return to Bast's and Kenny's side. "I'm ready."

"Go," Kenny says. "I texted Clay. I'll go to his place as soon as the officers don't need me."

I hug him and follow Sebastian out of the apartment. After the silent elevator descent, we walk toward the row of parked cars. Bast glances around and walks up to a black Ford.

"Dad told me to take his car in case they know mine," he says, scanning the sidewalk as we get in the vehicle.

I put my bag under my seat and buckle up. A frown stays glued to Bast's face until we leave Emerport behind.

"Where are we going?" I ask when he takes a road leading the opposite way from Ashwick.

"Somewhere safe."

I close my eyes, ordering my heart to stop racing, although now the rushed heartbeat is because of Bast's scent and the sight of his hand gripping the wheel. I missed his hands. I missed being with him.

"How are you?"

I swivel my head. "Good. Worried, too. I have no clue who'd do something so sinister."

Sebastian rubs his chin with his free hand. "Right. Only that I think I know."

Heaviness settles in my chest. I'm not stupid. I know who everything points at, but the idea of Mav harming someone is laughable.

My gaze roams Bast's profile. "He wouldn't. He loves butterflies. He'd never kill one."

"And he'd never leave the house, but I saw him in the woods in Ashwick, where someone died later. If he did nothing, where's he? Why would he hide?"

Bast pins me to the spot with a serious stare that makes me want to blend with the seat and disappear.

"He's my friend," I whisper.

Bast's palm slaps the wheel, and a muscle in his jaw ticks. "And you're my fucking everything. While we're trying to find excuses for a guy who was in all the wrong places at all the wrong times, someone wants you dead, childhood friend or not."

The air in the car feels thick. Charged with emotions and adrenaline. My eyes sting, and my palms sweat, and nothing- not my physical reactions nor Bast's words - makes sense.

I focus on the scenery behind the car window. Dense woods surround us, and while some trees already sport new leaves, lots are still bare. Lifeless.

Bast rests his palm on my knee. "I meant it. You're everything to me. And I can't lose you. Please, don't take what's going on lightly. We think we know others, Tara, but we don't."

My fingers seek his. My skin warms when our hands lock, and I allow the sensation to push everything else aside.

He said the words without saying them.

***

An hour later, Bast parks next to an old house I recognize from his sketch.

"Your grandpa's place," I say as we climb out of the Ford.

Bast gets a grocery bag and his backpack from the trunk, smiling for the first time today. "Yeah. It was the best option. Give me your stuff."

"It's not heavy."

He rolls his eyes and yanks my bag from my grasp. "I almost forgot how stubborn you are. Come on; let me show you around."

Sebastian leads the way to the house and unlocks the front door. We step into a small foyer and head down a narrow hallway.

Bast opens a door on his right and strolls into the room. "The bedroom," he says, putting our stuff on the wine-red rug by the bed. "The bathroom's here too."

I trail behind him as he marches to the kitchen I'd glimpsed earlier. "Only one bedroom in this house?"

He smirks. "You only need one. There are more rooms, but I haven't eaten anything today. You must be hungry too."

Food wasn't on my mind until now, but when Bast takes sandwiches out of the grocery bag and pours water into a kettle, my stomach protests with a growl.

"Not as delicious as yours," he says when I eye the food, "but at least I didn't forget to pack some."

I help him make coffee once the water is ready, and we head outside to eat in the backyard.

There's an in-ground fire pit and three wooden chairs next to it. I wait for Bast to start the fire, and as soon as the amber flames lick the firewood, we sit by the fire.

The late afternoon announces itself with a chill in the air. Bast goes back into the house and returns with a blanket.

His lips brush against the top of my head as he drapes it over my lap. "Eat and let's talk, okay?" he says.

I try to savor each bite, but the nerves take the better of me. Once my sandwich is gone, I sip the coffee, waiting for Bast's words.

All he does is look at me, hazel eyes burning my skin more than the fire in front of us would.

"You wanted to talk," I say.

He curls his palms around the mug and leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. "I think we should. What I said that day at the cemetery wasn't everything I wanted you to know."

"It wasn't?"

Bast shakes his head slowly, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "You look a bit flustered. Must be the fresh air."

I narrow my eyes, and a wide grin takes over his features. "Say you hate me."

"I hate you."

"Say I'm a nerd."

"The biggest."

Sebastian rests his mug on the ground and stands. "What about a judgemental asshole?"

He draws nearer, and my heart thuds louder with each step of his. "You're definitely one."

He crouches by my chair and slides his arms around my waist. "Agreed. But I love you."

My jaw trembles. Bast cups it with his palm and runs his thumb over my bottom lip. "When I kissed you for the first time, I only thought about you. Nobody else. Each time we were together, it was only you. You make me feel what I never did, Tara. And-"

"Bast..."

His fingers rub my skin. "I need to say this. I need you to hear it. I'm sure of my feelings. I want to be with you. It's my choice because you're everything I've ever wanted."

I throw my arms around his neck and bury my face in it. Bast tightens his embrace, kissing my hair. As soon as I angle my face toward his, our mouths clash, wet and needy.

Relief. Tenderness. Excitement. Love. Sensations flood me with each touch of his lips, and I cling to him, fisting the fabric of his hoodie.

"Looks like you don't exactly hate me," Bast whispers when we stop to catch a breath.

I kiss the bridge of his nose. "Perceptive."

"First, she steals my heart." He wraps the end of my ponytail around his index finger. "And then my lines."

"Want to sit?" I ask. "Your knees must hurt."

Bast chuckles. "Yeah. Let me bring a bigger chair."

He winces, rising to his feet, and throws a wink my way as he goes to what looks like a shed where you'd keep gardening tools.

Sebastian returns with a wicker chair and puts it next to mine. "Come here," he says. "It's comfortable."

He sits first, and I curl on his lap, hugging his neck. He covers us with the blanket, and as the evening settles over the woods, we watch the fire, exchanging small touches and innocent kisses.

Bast pecks my forehead. "Tara."

"Yeah?"

"Did you like your birthday gift? I started overthinking after Mom told me about your parents' picture you found. She said you looked heartbroken."

"I loved the painting. It's just hard."

He massages the back of my neck. His touch is soothing, but a storm rages inside me. I owe him the truth because he loves me. So why is it so hard to speak?

"Look." Bast gently takes my chin between his thumb and index. "There's no pressure if you're not ready to talk. I know it's not easy. You'll be ready when you're ready."

I place a kiss on his jaw and snuggle into him, pulling the blanket up to my chin. "I want to tell you."

The fire crackles, and the wind ruffles the tree branches. The scent of burned wood wafts over to us with each gust.

I stare at the mini inferno, letting my memories take over.

"It was right before Thanksgiving," I say. "I came home early and found Mom in the bathtub with her wrists..."

I choke on a sob. Bast wraps his arms around me and squeezes so hard my blood seems to pulse in unison with his.

"There was so much blood, and I didn't know what to do. Nobody was home. Cara was out of town. I called an ambulance, then I called Dad, but he didn't pick up. I tried to stop the bleeding, but she wasn't breathing. They took twenty-two minutes to get to us because of the holiday and the traffic, but it was too late. I didn't save her, Bast. But I tried. I promise I tried."

I wipe my nose with my sleeve and blink several times. "Cara came back later. But I needed Dad. He couldn't even tell me where he was. He was devastated, but so was I. I had to deal with the police, the doctors, and the questions.

"It was the worst holiday in my life. When I came back to school, people murmured and gossiped and stared. My father made sure it wasn't in the local news, but everyone knew. I was the daughter of Inger Hagen, a former Norwegian supermodel who killed herself."

Bast's caresses on my arms and back give me the courage to go on speaking. "Dad arranged for me to be homeschooled because I couldn't take the attention. I had the best teachers and excelled in all subjects, but I wasn't okay. I couldn't forgive him for not answering that call. Even after Mom died, he didn't try to be more present. It was Cara and me. Once, I felt so mad and lost I went to a club. That's when I met Ian. I thought, what do I have to lose? I wouldn't get the trust Mom set up for me until I turned twenty-one. And I didn't want my father's money. He wasn't the one with Mom's blood on his hands and clothes. So I offered myself to Ian, and you know the rest."

Sebastian swallows and brings my hand to his lips. "I'm so fucking sorry," he says against my knuckles, raining tender kisses on my skin. "I wish I'd known sooner."

I rub his silver chain between my fingers, relishing in his closeness. I want him to know everything. I'm sick of secrets.

"Ian treated me well. But he was older and more experienced. He showered me with attention when we were together, but he wasn't someone I could call in the middle of the night, and I was needy. I wanted more time together, not just a few hours somewhere nobody would recognize us. I was jealous and acted like a child. The summer before I started college, I left him, breaking up with him in a note.

"And I didn't want to spend my life living like that. I feared repeating Mom's fate. She wasn't diagnosed with depression, but she had a hard time adjusting after she gave up her career to get married and move here. She missed working, so she volunteered at the Hill Cottage and several charities to feel useful.

"Kenny and I met at the grief support group meeting. I went there first and to therapy after because I realized just talking wasn't enough. When I felt better, I set up my business. Mom was well-known in the fashion industry, and some people who knew her spread the word. I also modeled to save money and give a part to the causes Mom supported. I know she'd want that."

"Kenny told me about Easton," Bast says. "I just didn't know his story was similar to yours."

"East killed himself because his family turned their backs on him, but he had Kenny. Sometimes it's hard not to judge those who choose to go. Because someone always stays behind and misses them. And wishes they'd said they were struggling."

Cheek pressed to Bast's collarbone, I breathe slowly with the deliberate ins and outs, giving him time to process my words as he holds me.

I draw comfort from his presence.

After years of relying on myself, I finally feel I'm not alone.

Well, now we finally know Tara's past. Some of you already guessed a part of it, but hopefully, some things were a surprise.

Do we love how Bast said the words or not? Writing his character is hard because he's reserved and usually not super eloquent. But here your author will tell you a secret. I'm a sucker for this type in both fiction and real life. I'll take this over goofy any time.

Is Bast your type? (and yes that tiktok song totally sounds in my head. By the way, I'm there too as alwynk_author)

And...I know we're all waiting for some NSFW. Believe me, I thought it'd be one chapter, but the outline is very different from the final scene. The chapter is long and emotionally heavy, so I needed to make it two.

Tell me all your thoughts, and don't forget about the little stars.

❤️❤️❤️