Page 136 of Terms of Exposure
"Sebastian." I lowered myself back into my chair. "What's going on?"
"Nothing." Too quick. "I'm thrilled. Ecstatic. Over the moon. Pick your cliché."
"You're scared."
His hand stilled.
The silence stretched—different from our usual comfortable quiet. This one had teeth.
"Seb—"
"It's nothing." He shook his head, the smile threatening to crack. "Just drop it."
"No."
His brows furrowed, small faltering.
"You've been in here for weeks," I said, steady. "You nearly died. And now you're going home, and instead of being happy, you look like you're about to crawl out of your own skin." I leaned forward. "Talk to me."
His fingers resumed their picking, the edges of the blanket fraying into tiny strings.
The mask slipped.
"I'm an addict, Candace."
The words hung between us.
"Cocaine, mostly. Pills when I couldn't get it." He laughed, brittle. "That's why I'm here. That's what the overdose was."
"I thought you fell."
"I did." A sigh. "After the overdose."
He stared at the ceiling.
"The hospital's been easy, in a sick way. Controlled environment. No access. No temptation." His voice cracked. "But out there? I don't know who I am without it. I've been using since I was fifteen."
He looked at me then, fear bare in his eyes. "I'm terrified."
Not a lie.
"Well." I straightened, summoning my brightest tone. "I suppose I could visit you at Rosie's. A check-in here and there. I'll have to pencil you in though. My schedule is very demanding. Photo shoots. Brand deals. Extremely important debates about whether Edward or Jacob was the better choice."
Sebastian opened his mouth. "Jac—"
"Edward," I added firmly. "Obviously. I will not be taking questions."
He chuckled, the blanket falling from his fingers. "You're ridiculous."
"I'm delightful. There's a difference."
"There really isn't."
His smile came back—wobbly, imperfect, real.
"Thank you, Candace." Softer now. "Really."
"Please." I waved him off. "Someone has to keep your ego in check. Consider it community service."
