It had been a day. Just one long, echoing day of silence from Sebastian.
He hadn't replied to a single message. Not a single "are you okay?" or "I'm here if you need me" reached him. Even Eve had gone quiet. No response from her or Luke. I couldn't stop picturing the worst. Was Sebastian hurt again? Had his father done something? Or was he just—shutting me out?
Again.
But even with the panic gnawing at my stomach, I hadn't stopped searching. If I couldn't reach him, I could still dig. Still find something that mattered. Anything that gave me control.
So I went where I wasn't supposed to go—my parents' study.
The room was immaculate, lined with expensive books no one read and framed certificates polished to perfection. I opened drawers carefully, feeling like an intruder in my own house. Project Echo. I had to find something. A name. A paper. A clue. Something to tell me what my parents were involved in. But there was nothing. Not a single damn mention.
And then I got the call My Mom
"Olivia."
My mother's voice, cold and clipped, came.
"We'll be having dinner with you tonight," she said like it was a chore. "Your father and I leave again around midnight."
I said yes and then she cut the call Why couldn't my life ever be simple?
By seven, the house smelled like perfection—Mehusa had set the table like we were entertaining royalty. I stood in front of the mirror in my room, tugging at the soft blue fabric of the dress I'd thrown on. I didn't want to be elegant. I didn't want to see them. I didn't want to sit across the table from people who only saw me as a crack in their glass reputation.
They arrived precisely at seven. I heard the way my mother greeted Mehusa, polite and distant.
"And you, Olivia," she said, looking me over. "You look... different today. How is school?"
"Good," I said, forcing the word out like poison.
My father cleared his throat. "Let's eat."
Dinner was as stiff as ever. They spoke more about other people's children than they did about me—whose son got into Stanford, whose daughter won a robotics award, whose family just purchased a summer house in Italy.
And then I asked it.
"Do you know Mr. Patterson?"
They froze. Forks hovered mid-air. I watched my mother's wine glass tremble slightly before she set it down with a sharp clink.
"What did you say?" she asked, her voice low and tight.
"I—nothing, I mean—there's a new student at school. Patterson. I just wondered if you knew them."
Their faces twisted into something close to fear—and fury. My mother recovered first.
"We don't associate with those people," she hissed. "Don't you dare bring them up again."
I blinked. "Why? Their reputation seems fine. Everyone likes them—"
My father slammed his hand against the table. I flinched.
"You will not speak to them. You will not ask about them. You will stay away from that family."
"Why?" I pushed. "What did they—"
"Because we said so!" my mother snapped. "You're always drawn to the wrong kind of people—first Carter, with his druggie mother. Then Emily, that divorcee with no class. And now—now them? You are tarnishing this family's name!"
"I'm not friends with them!" I shouted back instinctively, even as guilt crept up my throat. "God, I was just asking—why are you both panicking?!"
"You have no idea what they're capable of," my father said darkly, voice low. "And you're too naive to understand."
No. No, they were hiding something. That wasn't fear for me. That was fear of exposure.
I felt hot all over. Sick. Like I couldn't breathe in this house.
By ten, they were gone, leaving a trail of tension behind them like a thick fog.
I couldn't stay. I grabbed my coat, walked aimlessly—my head spinning—until I looked up and realized I'd somehow wandered to the park. The one where I first met Sebastian.
I sat on the swing, tears spilling down my cheeks silently. Why was I breaking again? My parents had always been like this. Cold. Distant. But tonight... it felt worse. It felt like betrayal.
I hate him, I thought suddenly, viciously. Sebastian's father. I hate him for what he's done. For how he keeps breaking the boy I love. And now—now it feels like my parents might also know something about it.
A noise behind me. Footsteps.
I turned. A figure darted through the dark. My heart leapt—I chased after the sound, panic rising with each step. And then—
Brakes screeched. Headlights blinding.
A car slammed on its brakes inches away from me.
"Shit!" I gasped, stumbling back.
And then—
"Are you out of your mind?!" Sebastian's voice.
I blinked.
He was the one who stopped the car. He looked furious. Terrified.
"What the hell are you doing out here at 11:30 at night?" he shouted, storming toward me.
"There was someone following me," I whispered, pointing behind me. "I heard footsteps. I saw someone…"
He looked. But there was nothing.
He grabbed my hand and led me to the passenger side. "Get in. Now."
Once we were in the car, he didn't start it right away.
"What the hell was that?" he snapped. "Why can't you just cross the road like a normal person? What were you doing out so late—alone?"
"I needed air," I muttered, wiping my face.
"And your garden doesn't have air?"
"I wanted to go far from home."
That stopped him.
"Dinner with them?" he asked quietly.
I nodded.
His face softened.
My voice cracked. "Why can't they love me? What did I do that's so wrong?"
Tears came again—fast and hot.
"Why do they hate me so much?"
I froze.
Realized what I'd said.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "God, I shouldn't say that to you. You—you've been through worse. You know what real pain is. I'm being so—"
"No."
He pulled the car to the side of the road.
"Don't do that. Don't minimize your pain because of mine. That's not fair. You're allowed to hurt. You're allowed to be broken."
"But it's not the same," I said. "It's not—your father is… he's a monster, Seb."
He exhaled slowly, like something inside him was tearing.
I looked at him. "Do you hate me now?"
"No," he said firmly.
"Then why didn't you respond?" I asked, voice breaking. "Why didn't you just text me back?"
He leaned against the steering wheel, then looked at me again. "Because I was angry. I didn't trust myself not to snap. I didn't want to scare you."
"Did you…?" I couldn't finish.
But he knew.
"No," he said softly. "I didn't. I promised you. And I'm keeping that promise."
I broke.
The dam inside me shattered, and I cried—full-body sobs, shivering in my seat.
He reached across the console and cupped my face.
Then he kissed me.
First my forehead. Then my cheek. Then the edge of my lips.
And finally—he kissed me like he meant it. I kissed him back
Because we were both still drowning. But at least, for now—we were drowning together.
I stayed close, my forehead pressed against his. The silence wrapped around us, thick with everything unsaid.
"I asked them about him," I said suddenly.
Sebastian blinked, pulling back just slightly to look at me. "About who?"
"Mr. Patterson," I repeated, my voice smaller this time. "I asked them about him."
I watched him from the corner of my eye. His shoulders locked up, rigid. His jaw clenched so tight I could hear the grinding of his teeth.
"They didn't even know I'm friends with you, Seb. They just… I said his name, and it was like I dropped a live grenade on the dinner table."
He stayed silent.
"They panicked. I've never seen them like that. My mom dropped her fork. My dad stood up like someone had slapped him."
Still, nothing.
"They didn't even ask why I brought him up," I continued, trying to fill the unbearable quiet. "They just… told me to stay away. From the Pattersons. Called your dad 'dangerous' like they knew something but wouldn't say it."
Sebastian gave a dry, humorless laugh. "Dangerous is one word for it."
I turned toward him fully now. "Do they know what he did to you?"
He finally looked at me. And the look in his eyes made my blood run cold.
"No one knows what he does to me, Liv," he said quietly. "And no one cares enough to find out."
"I do."
"I know," he whispered, voice cracking, "and that's why I didn't want you to get involved. You shouldn't have asked them."
"I had to. I thought maybe they could help—maybe they knew something, anything. But they weren't trying to protect me, Seb. They were trying to protect themselves. Their image. Their fake reputation."
Sebastian looked away again. "They're not wrong. Maybe you should stay away."
My heart dropped.
"What?"
He exhaled, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the steering wheel. "Maybe they're right, Olivia. I bring nothing but pain. I'm the kid whose dad beats him into the floor. The one whose house is full of locked doors and secrets. The one being watched by strangers in the dark. You think that ends well for you?"
"Don't do that," I said sharply. "Don't push me away because he made you believe you're unlovable."
He flinched like I'd hit him.
"I don't care what my parents said," I went on, my voice rising. "I don't care if everyone thinks the Pattersons are made of poison. You're not him. You're not him, Seb."
"But I'm his son," he said bitterly. "His blood runs through me."
"And still, you fight every day to not become him," I snapped. "That matters. That means something."
He looked at me then, like he couldn't believe I was real.
"And you know what else?" I added, voice shaking. "When they said your name at that table, it wasn't fear in their eyes. It was panic. The kind of panic you have when you're hiding something."
Sebastian stared at me, brow furrowed. "You think your parents… know something?"
"I know they do," I said. "They were too fast to shut it down. Too rehearsed. They didn't even ask which Patterson. They just knew."
Sebastian leaned back in his seat, staring out the windshield like it held answers. "If they know what he's done… and said nothing…"
He didn't finish.
He didn't have to.
My hands clenched in my lap. God, I hate him. I hate his father. I hate that man for what he did to Seb. For making him think he was better off alone. For making him believe love was a luxury he didn't deserve.
"I wish I could burn everything he's ever touched," I whispered.
Sebastian turned slowly toward me.
"Even me?" he said softly.
My eyes widened.
"Seb—no. No. Not you. Never you."
"You said everything he's touched."
"You're not his," I said fiercely. "You're mine."
The words fell out before I could even think. But I meant them.
He stared at me, breathing shallow. Then shook his head.
"You're gonna break your own heart, Olivia."
"No," I said. "I already did. The second I let you leave that night without fighting harder. The second I let myself believe I wasn't enough to keep you."
Sebastian ran a hand through his hair, torn between wanting to reach for me and wanting to disappear.
"I've never had anyone fight for me before," he said. "Not like this."
I reached across the console, grabbed his hand.
"You do now."
He held my hand like it was a lifeline.
"Please don't go," I choked. "I can't—I can't lose you, Seb. I know it's not healthy. I know I'm clinging too tightly. But I can't lose you."
He didn't say anything right away. Just looked at me, like he could feel the weight of every word I'd just thrown into the dark between us.
Then, finally, he reached across the console again, cupping my face with both hands like I was breakable and sacred all at once.
"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered. "You couldn't get rid of me if you tried."
I closed my eyes, breath shaking. And when I opened them, he was still there.