Page 52 of Go Back to December

Baz stares at my glass of whiskey, nostrils flaring.

Slowly, I place the glass on the bar, like it’s a grenade. “What happened? Why are you so upset?”

He stills, and it’s scarier than him charging in here.

Justin stammers something about filming and makes a run for the hallway.

“How could you be so reckless?” Baz seethes.

“What the fuck are you ranting about?”

“You, day-drinking and driving. In my car!”

“I didn’t.”

He dangles the keys in front of me.

“They’re the only keys I have to the apartment! Your car is in the garage.”

“How did you get here?”

“The train! Jesus.”

“What are you doing here?”

I drain the rest of my whiskey, and the kind bartender comes over to offer a top-up.

“No!” Baz bellows. Chest heaving, eyes blazing.

Like an overbearing boyfriend.

While I take a long moment to gather my insults, I notice the tight grip Baz has on the keys, and the tension coiled around his mouth.

This has to be about his three hundred eighty-two horsepower engine.

He can’t have been worried about me.

With a glare of my own, I say, “We don’t know each other well, but I think I made it pretty clear in the train station how much I value my life. And it is beyond insulting that you would think I would risk hurting someone else by getting behind the wheel after drinking. Day or otherwise.”

The fire evaporates from his eyes. He glances at the empty bar, then back at me, as if realizing where we are. And how close we’re leaning into each other.

I can smell cinnamon on his breath, feel the heat coming off him in waves.

“I’m sorry.”

This time, I believe him.

Because he reaches forward, cradles the back of my head with his long fingers and pulls me close to press his lips against my forehead.

My arms circle his waist like second nature.

Neither of us really registers the clatter of his crutches crashing to the floor.

“You were gone,” he murmurs against my hair. “I thought something had happened. Again. But this time I wasn’t there.”

His heartbeat is pounding beneath his shirt, and I slide my hands over his back. “I’m safe, Baz. We both are. Nothing is going to harm us.”

“Sebastian?”