Sleet Banshee by S.J. Tilly
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SEBASTIAN
“I
know, Ma” it takes all I have not to groan into the phone. If I show any sign of distress, Mom will get in her car and head over. No matter that it’s nearly midnight. “I’m fine.”
“Promise me, Sebastian.” She’s using her stern voice now.
“I promise, Ma” I say while rolling my eyes.
“Now say it again, without rolling your eyes.”
“What the hell?”
“Language!” Mom says like she’s shocked at the curse. All her kids swear like sailors, but she still acts surprised each and every time.
“Sorry. I promise that I’m okay. I’m not upset. I won’t cry myself to sleep tonight. If I do, I’ll dry my tears on my spun-gold sheets.”
“No one likes a braggart," she chastises me.
“I’m fine. I promise.”
“Okay, son. I love you. Now get some sleep.”
“Love you, too, Ma. Goodnight.”
Hanging up, I drop my phone onto my nightstand and scrub my palms over my eyes.
I wasn’t lying. I am fine. I just always need a little time to get out of my own head after a loss like tonight. I know all the usual pep talks. My parents have been giving them to me for decades. The problem is, it doesn’t matter how much logic and reason you throw at a problem like this, none of it helps. So-and-so could’ve blocked. So-and-so could’ve scored. But - ultimately - I was the one who let the puck into my net. I failed at the one job I have. I don’t like failing. I like perfection. I just need time. And my mom knows that.
I just wish Meghan had known that, too.
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew I'd fucked up. Banshee isn’t a puck bunny. She’s not even fucking close. She’s a feisty little goddess. Every interaction I’ve had with her has been full of spunk and fire. Except for tonight.
Even before I went off on her, I could tell there was something different. I couldn’t place it until afterwards, but she was nervous. She was nervous because she wasn’t sure how I’d react to her concern. I already felt like the biggest piece of shit when I saw how my words hit her. The downcast eyes, the tremor in her lip, the whispered response. I don’t think I’ve ever been more disgusted with myself than I was at that moment. Never, until a moment later when I put it all together and realized she was uncomfortable before she even spoke. And what did I do? I played straight into those fears. I became the bully. The bad guy. That’s not a title I ever want, especially not with my Banshee.
So, yeah, I told my mom the truth. I’ll be fine about the loss. It’s the way I treated Megs that has me wanting to peel my skin from my body.
I’ve upset women before. Not from being deliberately mean, but from ending relationships, and things like that. I’ve even made women cry before. It’s not something I enjoy. I always feel bad. I try to set the right expectations on the front end, but sometimes it doesn’t work out. But tonight... It doesn’t make sense. We aren’t anything to each other. We aren’t even casually hooking up. I shouldn’t care what she thinks or how she feels.
Maybe that’s it though. Banshee didn’t hunt me down for a quickie. She wasn’t looking for me to invite her back to my place. She wasn’t looking for anything. She was just concerned. About me.
Fuck. I don’t know what we are, but I know I messed it up.
