Page 115 of Last Man Standing

I would… but with a shattered heart.

Because if he says Sebastion is no good, while my heart and soul believe otherwise, then this would be bigger than walking away from a man who owns me. It would be about admitting I truly am broken. It would mean giving up on love forever, because it’s clear my compass has been blown to hell and back, and my instincts are a danger to myself.

“Scar?”

Gulping, I lick my lips and nod. “Yes. I would listen to you. And I would mourn very, very much. Because I trust you to keep me safe, but I feel inside me, right in my soul, that he’s good and decent.”

He groans. “Dammit, honey. You’re already in too deep.”

“No.” I snap my lips shut and trap inside a sobbing exhale before it comes out and humiliates me. “I’m okay. I’ll listen to you. Whatever you say. However it goes.”

“That easy?” He sighs, shaking his head audibly from side to side. “You’re already half in love, aren’t you?”

“Half?” I swallow an aching cry. “No.”

He coughs out a pained chuckle. “All the way, then?”

“I’ll listen to you,” I sniffle. “I swear I will. If you tell me he’s no good, I’ll accept your word and deal with the devastation on my own. But it’s better to know.” I tip my head back and stare up at the dark ceiling through watery eyes. “It’s always better to know. So please just⁠—”

“I don’t think he’s a junker.”

“Oh, thank God.” I drop my head and weep. I’m such an idiot. Such a hypocrite. Such a friggin’ cautionary tale, just waiting for a tragic ending. “Are you sure? Are you saying that because you consider me fragile and dumb?”

“I have never considered you dumb,” he growls. Just fragile, then? “Meeting one guy years ago when you were barely out of your teens and still searching for the best in people is not a fuckin’ crime, Scarlett. And it’s definitely not something you should continue to beat yourself up about. You should see the statistics, honey. The number of women duped by that exact kind of fucking parasite isn’t rare. That’s not on you. That’s on him.”

“And Sebastion?”

He exhales a wounded groan. “It was easier with the other guys. To look them up, to run their names and figure out their histories. You weren’t emotionally invested yet, and ultimately, I knew they wouldn’t even be a bump in the road of your life.”

“But?”

“But Tank is a seven-foot-tall mountain parked across your road, and right now, he’s got you at a location I don’t even know. Did I think he’d hit on you?” He scoffs. “Absolutely. But did I expect you to be charmed by that shit? No!”

“Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“No. I think I’m an idiot for expecting that motherfucker to remain blind to how truly special you are once he had more than five minutes alone with you. I know from personal experience that once a man realizes what he’s got, he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure he never loses it again. To make sure he never loses her.”

“Linc—”

“I think he’s a good man,” he sighs. “Underneath the bullshit, and underneath the shield he carries to keep the weak away, I believe he’s spent his entire life protecting a woman very important to him, and I think, if I had to trust my baby sister with anyone, choosing a guy with thirty years of experience and loyalty to protecting women is a good way to go. I think I’m still gonna shoot him in his fuckin’ face for touching…”

I choke out a ridiculous, snotty laugh.

“But I had him in my home for months, Scar. I worked out with him. Trained with him. Hunted with him. I watched him watch Nova, and when you arrived, I watched him watch you.” He inhales a shuddering breath. “If I thought he was a junker, I wouldn’t have left you with him. No matter how much noise he made, no matter the threats he tossed out. If he were like Roy, I wouldn’t have driven away and left you with him. So…” He exhales again. “I dunno. Do with that what you want. Don’t tell me about the touching, don’t get pregnant, and for the love of God, don’t get in a fistfight with his mother.”

The latter sounds significantly more life-changing than the former.

“Okay.”

“Does he like you back?” I know my brother loathes the idea of discussing this. Of combing through the details, but, “I mean, clearly he thinks you’re pretty. The bastard owns a set of eyes. But is this just fun for him? Or will he still treat you right in the morning, so to speak?”

“Well…” Warmth floods my cheeks and down into my chest. Embarrassed, though I have no reason to be, I turn in my booth, only to startle and freeze. To lock eyes with an entirely too smug Sebastion standing a mere four feet away.

Slowly, arrogantly, he brings a single digit to his lips, demanding I keep our secret. Then he nods. Firmly. Confidently.

“Scar?”

“Y-yeah.” I push straight and gulp the lump of nerves in my throat. “I… yes? I think he likes me back.”