Chapter 96: My Dark Prince: Chapter 95

Trial Day Twenty-Eight.

When it came to my inevitable reconciliation with Sebastian, I always wrote it off as a certainty. A matter of when, not if.

I approached our stilted brotherhood with a brand of optimism Sebastian absolutely loathed, knowing that if I stayed by his side, if I showed him he had me in his life no matter what he looked like and how he behaved, we would find a way to bury the hatchet.

And so, Sebastian spent the past fifteen years proving me wrong. Almost intentionally.

Which was why I didn’t register where we were – or what it meant that he was down here – when he materialized beside me in the living room in broad daylight with staff milling about.

I had my body propped up against the wall, peeking at the lake through the open patio doors. I’d ditched the last four days of work, not bothering to show up, since Eli stopped hounding me with calls. Maybe he’d come to the realization that he, too, could function without me.

Sebastian kicked an empty bottle of Jack, watching it roll into the kitchen. “Are you singlehandedly reviving the alcohol industry?”

“The alcohol industry needs no reviving.” I clutched the bottle in my fist tighter, not putting it past him to pry it from my fingers. “It thrives on misery, and there’s plenty of that to go around.”

Realistically, I knew Briar would return to the U.S. eventually, but since our trial began, it occurred to me that between our work schedules and my twice weekly commitment to Sebastian, we wouldn’t see each other for more than thirty to forty days a year.

Sebastian’s toe nudged my limp leg. “This is pathetic.”

“Fuck off.”

“You missed Days of Our Lives.”

“No, I didn’t.” I let my back fall to the hardwood, fighting a gust of wind from the open patio. In the distance, the lake roared with unusually strong waves.

Seb hovered above me, his eyes nervously flicking left and right. “It’s Thursday.”

“Can’t be. I have a business meeting Wednesday, and I haven’t gone.”

“You missed it. Dad took over.”

That snapped me out of it.

“He did?” I poked my head out the patio door, lolling it half onto the pavement because I couldn’t bring myself to move my whole torso.

“What are you doing?”

I stared up at the clouds. “Waiting for the flying pigs to pass by.”

Maybe I hadn’t hallucinated that conversation with Dad. But that didn’t make sense either. That would require doing something other than mourning his still-alive children.

Sebastian sneered down his nose at me. “Congratulations. You’re officially the most embarrassing von Bismarck.”

I straightened, finally getting a good look at him. He wore a pair of Gentle Monster sunglasses and faded jeans coupled with a Harvard hoodie. It was almost normal, save for the hood pulled over his head, scrunched as tight as the strings would allow and triple-knotted to form the tiniest hole possible for him to peer through.

“Wait.” I blinked, wondering if this, too, was a mirage. “You left your cave.”

“Yeah, well … someone has to make sure you don’t drown in a pool of your own puke.” He shrugged, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. “You look like shit, by the way.”

“So everyone’s been saying.” I spun back to the lake. A bitter smile tugged at my lips. “Still remember what the sun looks like?”

It had started to slip below the horizon, casting the room in a hazy orange glow. We had another five or ten minutes before it disappeared entirely, but I figured my hallucination and I could enjoy it together.

“Looks the same as I remember, except with more pollution.” Seb claimed the space beside me, his mouth twitching in an almost smile. It faded into a scowl as I burped in his face. He fanned away the stench. “I should’ve let you drown in self-pity. Unfortunately for me, I’m feeling charitable today.”

I snorted, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Since when do you do charity work?”

“Since my sole source of groceries turned into a drunk cliché from a direct-to-cable movie.” His brows shot up, peeking past his sunglasses. “I mean, seriously … Sitting in the dark, guzzling whiskey by the gallon, and staring into the lake? What’s next? You gonna write her a sad letter, tuck it inside a glass bottle, and throw it in the water? I’ve seen the movie. Spoiler alert: she never reads it.”

“Tempting. Maybe I’ll throw myself in while I’m at it.”

“Let’s refrain from the dramatic gestures. You’re kinda monopolizing the drama in this family. It’s exhausting to watch.”

I swiveled to face him, swaying into the doorframe as I jabbed a thumb into my chest. “I’m exhausting to watch?”

“Eh. You’re a shitty genre. Too much tragedy. Not enough explosions.”

I hiccuped into my bottle. “You’re a terrible hallucination.”

“That’s ‘cause I’m not a hallucination.”

“Prove it.”

“Gladly.”

With that, he bounced to his feet, stormed over to my couch, and proceeded to launch every pillow right at my face. The Jack Daniels clattered to the hardwood and cracked in two. A river of whiskey raced between us.

“What the fuck, Seb?” I shot to my feet, fisting his shirt.

He arched a brow, amused. “You mad?”

No, actually. Not at all.

I just couldn’t believe he’d left his cave.

“You left your cave.” I patted his arms, his chest, his neck, his face, feeling sober all of a sudden.

He swatted my hands away. “We already established that.”

“We did?”

“Oh, my god.” He started to leave. “Find me when you sober up. And the next time you miss Days of Our Lives, don’t expect me to give you a recap.”

“No, wait.” I fisted the back of his hoodie, spinning him to face me. “Stay. You came here for a reason.”

“I came here to make sure you’re alive. Unfortunately, the answer is yes. I’ll be on my way now.”

“Stop lying. Why did you come?”

He didn’t reply. In the distance, water lapped against the shore, filling the silence. I started to release him when he finally answered, quiet. Almost shy.

“I’m sorry.”

That simple statement, more than anything else, cut through the fog of whiskey.

I cupped my ear, angling it toward him. “Come again?”

“I’m not repeating myself.”

“Fine, fine. I heard you the first time.” I let go of his shirt and gestured for him to continue.

“I know I started that fight, and even if I didn’t, I shouldn’t have blamed you for this.” He circled his covered face with a finger. “You didn’t intend for any of this to happen.”

“I didn’t,” I promised. “I’m so fucking sorry for it, Seb. You have no idea.”

“I do, though. You’ve only told me a million times. I just needed someone to blame.” He swiped a hand down his face, knocking off his glasses. “And shit, asking you to not be happy for the rest of your life is next-level fucked up, and I’m sorry for that, too. I thought seeing you miserable would somehow make me happy, but it didn’t.”

“That’s not the only reason I dumped Briar.”

“No,” he agreed. “You left her because you blamed yourself for my face, and you thought you couldn’t protect her and worse – that you didn’t deserve her. I didn’t help there. But I can help now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean …” He sighed, dropping onto the couch with a soft thump. “Maybe you don’t need to babysit me all the time. I’m not gonna hold it over your head if you finally have a life beyond me.”

“But I want you to get better.”

“I’m never getting better, Oliver.”

“But you can.” I began to pace, the alcohol wearing off faster as I saw a chance and seized it. “It’s different now. There are better doctors, modern medicine, new technology—”

“And I’ll never look exactly as I did fifteen years ago.”

I tossed my arms in the air. “Of course, you won’t. You’re old as shit now.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Fine. We’ll take baby steps. I’ll visit you every day. Maybe we can hire someone to—”

“No,” he cut me off, a lone pillow stuffed on his lap as if it could protect him from my eager demands. “I came to apologize, not to sit through another lecture. I’ll never get better, Oliver. That’s a fucking fact. Accept it. I just refuse to be the reason you break up with Briar again.”

“We’re still together.”

“For how much longer?” He nudged an empty bottle of Jack off the coffee table with his toe. “This is unsustainable.”

“My liver says otherwise.”

“This is stupid. Just move in with her. Problem solved.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s in Los Angeles.”

He sent me a look that conveyed just how stupid he found me. “So, follow her.”

“But you’re …”

“A thorn in your side?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“But that’s the truth. I am, and I have been for fifteen years.” The tension between us softened. He shifted on the couch cushion, still visibly on edge, but he didn’t back down. “Well, I’m freeing you from the burden.”

The breeze carried in the scent of fresh pine and salt water. I barely noticed.

“Why now?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, tipping his head down as he mumbled something.

“Come again?”

More mumbles.

“I can’t hear you, Seb.”

He finally stared up at me, his face tight and his usual armor of sarcasm slipping just for a moment. “I miss her, too.”

You little shit.

A giant smile consumed my face. I couldn’t help it. Cuddlebug was so damn lovable. The wildest part was that she never believed me when I told her. How could she not? Even the grouchiest motherfucker on the continent wanted her around.

“Me, too, bro.” I hopped onto the cushion beside Sebastian, patting his shoulder. “Me, too.”

“You should get her back before some Hollywood hot shot with a bank account fatter than yours wins her over.”

“First – no one west of the Mississippi has a bank account fatter than mine.” I rubbed my jaw, forcing myself not to entertain Seb’s goading. “And second – I don’t need to get her back. She’s still mine.”

“She might not want you anymore,” he pointed out. “A lot can happen in twenty-eight days.”

I snorted. “Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

“Maybe. You’re drunk, so I figured it’s worth a shot.”

“You’re a terrible therapist, Seb.”

“From all the terrible therapy you forced on me. It’s called osmosis.”

But I accepted his therapy for what it was. A fragile bridge. A rare offering from a man who could barely see past his own tragedy, let alone someone else’s.

I turned to face him, leaning against the back rest. “You know what this means, right? That I’ll be in Los Angeles most days.”

My mind raced with all the logistics. The Grand Regent headquarters belonged here. I didn’t know how I’d shift my work schedule around, but I’d find a way to stay by Briar’s side. Especially if Dad could help me out, assuming he managed to stay functional this time around.

“Just …” Sebastian’s breathing slowed. Each inhale seemed to drag out of him. “Come back for Days of Our Lives. I meant it when I said I’m not giving you a recap, asshole.”